Page 18 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“You—I—” Her hands went from her mouth to her blazing cheeks, and she glared at him.

“Don’t cover up. Your looks are stunning when you blush,” he added.

“I never blush!” she said, her tone full of accusation.

He grinned. “Then occasionally, you have a florid complexion.”

Her hands dropped to her sides. “You are an odious man.”

And right there was what he’d come to discover. She obviously still held him in contempt, but for the life of him, he couldn’t see why.

He shifted his weight so he was sitting more fully on the table. It wasn’t a proper way to be in front of a lady, but he wanted her to feel less proper around him. Especially since they were alone. It was a lucky stroke that Lady Illston’s butler was amenable to bribery.

But far from becoming more casual her hands twitched, and her brows narrowed. She didn’t like his air of insouciance, so he relaxed even more. He did love vexing her.

“I have a wager with one of my oldest friends,” he began.

“I’m sure you do—”

“It’s about you.”

She blew out an annoyed breath. “I’m sure it is.”

He leaned back to study her closely as he spoke. He wanted to memorize every nuance of her reaction.

“He believes you hold me in such contempt that if I were to propose to you right now, you would throw my words right back in my face. Worse, you would crow to every one of your intimates the insult I had done you by offering to make you my countess.”

She lifted her chin, and her eyes flashed fire. He hadn’t thought amber eyes could make him think of searing heat, but her expression burned.

“Do you mock me, sir?”

“Not in the least.” He leaned forward. “My position is that you would be appropriately flattered and would weigh my offer with the consideration it deserves.”

“Well,” she said with a laugh, “I would certainly do that.” By which she meant she would discard his proposal like bad meat.

He shook his head at the insult. “I cannot credit that a woman of good sense would toss aside a future earl so cavalierly.”

“Good sense? Is that how you would describe me?”

“Well, of course—”

“I thought it was wayward.”

He sighed. “You cannot still be angry about that.”

She jolted forward a step, and he jumped off the table to maintain the semblance of decency. One of her fists landed where he’d been. It was a startling, masculine gesture, one that made him want her even more. Especially as it put her face close to his.

“Of course, I am still furious! How can you be so thickheaded? Do you know what my last six years have been like? Everyone thinks me wild.”

“Wild? I thought that was your sister.”

She hit him. She flat-out punched him across the jaw. Then she stepped back and shook out her hand, muttering under her breath.

“Fisticuffs! That is what he brings me to. Damn, that hurts.”

The blow wasn’t painful. She didn’t have much power to her punch. “Obviously, you have no brothers to teach you how to do that properly.”

“I do most certainly have a brother!” she snapped.