He shook his head. “You would know something of those nighttime pursuits, yes, my lady?”
The wretch would have to fling Sodom at her. She didn’t know what got into her that night. She had no plans to enter into that wager when she sat down at the table. He simply provoked her with his cocked eyebrow and sneering voice. Before she knew it, she had wagered her virtue.
A small, sardonic smile played about his lips as he surveyed her coldly. For a moment she thought his gaze lingered a trifle long on the demure display of her décolletage, but when his gaze returned to her face, there was nothing there. Her generous bosom, she had learned, proved a point of fascination for many gentlemen, and yet the only thing she read in his expression was his usual dispassion. When he looked at her, there was only ever impassivity.
“Much could be applied to your person, Lady Aurelia . . . but dull would not be an apt description. The words I would choose to describe you would not do to be uttered aloud in polite society.”
“Ah, you flatter,” she murmured, well aware that he did not mean to compliment her. Indeed not. She shoved aside the sting of his words and forced a bright smile on her face, knowing that her good cheer in the face of his jibes always irritated him, and irritating him was the only way she could hope to affect him. The only way at all.
Chapter 3
Flattery was not in his intention. Indeed not. Whenever Max spotted Aurelia, the skin at the back of his neck pulled tight and prickled as though crawling with ants. Ever since Sodom when she had divested him of his clothes, things felt decidedly unfinished between them. They danced about each other, striking and swiping. Engaging in brief skirmishes and then retreating. It all felt as though it were leading to something.
He was rather accustomed to females chasing him. He usually let himself be caught. He’d made an occupation of it actually. After all, who was he to deny a lady?
And yet this was not the same game. Aurelia was different. She did not chase him. Ever. She wasn’t after a romp between the sheets. He grimaced. The notion of that was too appalling to even consider. She could not abide him and he could not abide her. He wanted to provoke her. Needle her. Antagonize her. Shake her up so that she didn’t bestow one of her cold, unaffected smiles on him.
He gestured at her. “What could possibly be more fascinating than an evening in your scintillating company?”
Her brown eyes glinted with suppressed emotion. Those eyes had not changed since she was a child. The same could not be said for the rest of her though. Gone was the blushing, awkward girl. In her place was a bold chit with curves abundant. Some might even assert she was on the plump side. The confection of ruffles and ribbons she wore did nothing to improve her form. Indeed, her ruffled and beribboned gowns made it difficult to detect if she even possessed a waist. Except he knew she did. He’d seen it for himself a year ago at Sodom. It was something he had tried forgetting. The image of her in that scandalous gown with her breasts practically spilling out of the bodice. Her small waist and generous hips and deliciously rounded bottom had all been on display.
“Oh, I’m certain there is a lady somewhere in this Town enticing enough to lure you from my company,” she countered.
He blinked and smiled slowly. “You underestimate yourself.”
She eyed him warily. “Are you trying to provoke me?”
“Why? Am I succeeding?”
“Of course not. You give yourself far too much credit, I fear.”
Meaning he did not deserve a reaction. He felt a flash of anger.
Her gaze darted across the room. “Please. Cease scowling.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why?”