Page 8 of The Trouble with Tweed

She narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Two.”

“Delightful.” He settled more comfortably into his seat. “Now, back to the matter at hand. Why on earth would you want to marry a boring man?”

“I’ve had enough excitement to last a lifetime. It’s overrated. I want someone I can depend on.”

It made sense, though Michael didn’t admit it. He might have felt the same had he experienced what Claire had. It couldn’t have been easy to go from having plenty to not enough and back again while the world watched. While the world sniggered.

Claire had only been out for one Season before her brother Richard squandered the family’s fortune. She’d barely had time to get her feet beneath her, socially speaking, before it was all swept away. Now she’d share this next Season with three younger sisters. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to have a plan in place before the social gambit started.

He nodded. “Very well. I’ll play my part. But you must be fully honest with me.”

Her eyes widened. “In what way?”

“You must tell me if you’re interested in a fellow so I can be sure to inform you what I’ve heard.”

So I can undermine him at every turn. Michael smiled guilelessly.

“Fair enough.”

“It might take a copious amount of time to find exactly what you’re looking for.”

“I’m not picky. I already told you—I just want to make sure that whoever courts me is not of your ilk.”

“Of my ilk?” His eyebrows flew upward. “It’s very simple, Claire. I won’t actually court you, and that solves your problem.”

She looked heavenwards. “I mean rakes in general.”

“Would that really be so bad? Rakes are the most experienced gentlemen. Wouldn’t you rather cohabitate with someone who knows how to navigate a lady’s undergarments? Wouldn’t you rather a gentleman be able to take you by the hand, look deeply into your eyes, and seduce you properly?”

Claire blinked rapidly as if alarmed by the notion. But there was something else in her eyes, some flicker of interest that she tried to hide.

Michael’s eyes narrowed. He stood, then sat directly next to her on the sofa.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, pointing across the room. “Sit back over there.”

“Oh no, Claire,” he murmured lowly. “I think you should experience a rake before you decide you don’t wish to marry one.”

Michael took her cool hand in his and began to murmur sweet nothings at her—idiotic things he’d heard from lovesick saps, things he’d never said before, not once.

“Your hair is as soft as silk,” he rambled. “I want to thread it between my fingers and kiss you senseless. Your eyes contain all the colors of fall. Everything warm and lovely. In your gaze I see everything. Everything, Claire—my entire future. Our future.”

Claire’s green eyes grew wide, alarmed. But there was a soft something there too, that propelled him onward. Then, before he knew it, he was telling her truths—things that he hadn’t even wanted to admit to himself, let alone say out loud to her.

“I’ve been so lonely without you, Claire. I’ve missed you. Why did you leave me the way you did?”

Claire’s breathing became shallow. Her dark lashes fluttered over her half-open eyes and color grew high on her cheeks. And yet, Michael was uncertain whether it was she or he who was the most affected. His pulse was a threshing roar in his head that nearly drowned out the sound of his words.

“You’re so beautiful and so smart, Claire. I wanted you then, but not half as much as I want you now. Tell me I have a chance with you; don’t leave me without hope…”

He leaned closer to her, determined to drive home his point. Although with the scent of her—warm lavender and rose—so close, he suddenly could not remember precisely what his initial point had been.

He’d been seducing her—as a joke, he thought. Michael suddenly thought it was a stupid idea. The seducing would do just fine, but the joke part was a mistake. If he was going to whisper love words to Claire Preston, he intended they do their job properly.

“I’ve never looked at another lady the way I look at you. I’ve never seen one, not like I see you, Claire. I could spend all my hours with you, and it still wouldn’t be enough. These years without you have been misery of the acutest kind…”

The more he whispered to her, the more she flushed. His heart pounded, matching the tempo pulsing in her delicate neck. Her breaths were growing shallow, yes, but no shallower than his own. He began slipping the satin buttons of her glove through their loops. Each time one popped free, his heart rate ratcheted higher.

He suddenly wondered, who was the seducer? And who was the one being seduced?