She turned and gave him a look of real dislike. “Of course it did. But that doesn’t matter when true love exists. ”
“Of course not,” he said soothingly. “So he deflowered you on your bed, and it was tender and beautiful. And painful. How many times did you do it?”
Her brow was wrinkled. “Once. ”
“Once the first time, or only once with the music teacher?”
He could practically feel her annoyance. Unfortunately her body was pressed up against his, and no matter how she tried to keep her distance the warmth of his leg against hers, the feel of his body next to hers, even through the many layers of petticoats and cloth, was loosening some of her tension.
“Many, many times,” she said between gritted teeth. “We did it in my bedroom, in the music room, in…”
“Where in the music room?”
She looked at him with real dislike. “Underneath the pianoforte. On top of the pianoforte. Unfortunately Nanny Maude caught us, and my mother dismissed the piano teacher, and I never saw him again. ”
“Very tragic,” he murmured. “But I’m encouraged by your inventiveness. Who came next?”
“There was an actor at the Comédie-Française. His name was Pierre duClos and he was quite beautiful—with dark hair and an angelic smile. ”
He was enjoying himself immensely. Scheherazade was doing an excellent job with her stories. Which were just that—stories. “Apparently you favor beautiful men. How fortunate for me. ”
She looked at him. “You don’t suffer from an excess of self-doubt, do you?”
“Why should I? It’s a waste of time. You and I both know I’m exquisite. ” He flicked his flowing lace cuff. “My valet puts a great deal of effort into making me look glorious—it would distress him greatly if he somehow had failed. Perhaps I should get rid of him. ”
“He hasn’t failed,” Elinor said in a disgruntled voice. “You’re very beautiful. So much so that you put everyone around you to shame, like a strutting peacock surrounded by little brown hens. ”
“Do you see yourself as a little brown hen, my sweet?”
“Thinking of me that way might be a very grave mistake,” she said, appearing unmoved.
He leaned back against the side of the chaise and smiled at her. “I seldom make mistakes, precious. And I haven’t underestimated you since the moment I first saw you. I know just how dangerous you are. ”
“Then why don’t you let me go?”
“Let you go? I wasn’t aware that I was imprisoning you. Exactly where was it that you wanted to go?”
She bit her lip, which annoyed him. He wanted to be the one biting her lip. “Perhaps you could be kind enough to offer me shelter at the château?”
“I could most certainly do that,” he said gravely. “I can have Charles drive you out there first thing in the morning. ”
“You can?” She actually looked hopeful. He almost hated to dash that hope.
“It doesn’t do to underestimate me either. You may go, and Charles will bring your sister back in your place. ”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a bastard, you know. A heartless, manipulative monster. ”
“Oh, surely that’s too harsh. I’m not a monster. I wouldn’t even say I’m a bad man. I’m just not a very good one. ” He picked up one of her cool, limp hands and brought it to his lips before she jerked it away. He kept his grip on it, letting her drop it into the covers, but his fingers were like steel, unbreakable.
She took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm herself, and he could almost imagine her counting to ten to try to settle her temper. It was simply too bad for her that he liked arousing her ire. He liked the thought of arousing everything about her, and intended to do just that. Slowly but surely.
“So tell me about this handsome actor of yours. I have seen him onstage. He is indeed very pretty, though his performance was at best mediocre. How did you happen to form a liaison with him?”
“Easily. I sent him a note praising his acting ability and suggested we meet. And we did. ”
“And what did you do?”