Page 45 of Outrageous

She nodded, swallowing hard enough that he could see the muscles of her throat moving. The action plucked at heartstrings he’d forgotten he even possessed. The girl was certainly an enigma: last night she’d participated in an act that was so erotic and earthy, most Englishwomen married fifty years had never even heard of it. She hadn’t just participated, she’d watched him with hungry eyes, encouraged him with spread legs and thrusting hips, and reveled in the sensations he’d given her.

Yet today she was back to being a naïve nineteen-year-old.

He had to admit it: he was . . . intrigued. “How many Seasons have you had?”

She frowned and for a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer his rather abrupt question. “This was my first.”

“Isn’t that a bit late?” Hell. Why didn’t he just shut up? What did he know about young ladies and their come outs? Until five months ago he’d not set foot in a London ballroom in his life.

She looked out the window, her mouth turned down at the corners. “Yes, I should have come out at seventeen, or eighteen at the latest. But I became ill and was allowed to stay home.”

“It must have been a serious illness.”

She said nothing.

Godric wanted to break down this new barrier between them before it had time to grow, thicken, and obstruct the little bit of ease they’d begun to share. Christ. The last thing he needed on a daily basis was conflict with the woman he’d be tied to for the rest of his life.

“Yesterday you mentioned your younger sister—Melissa, was it?”

Her head turned slowly in his direction and he could see she was suspicious.

“What?” he asked. “Surely it is not unheard of to wish to know about one’s future relatives?”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. “How many do you have? Why don’t we talk about you if you are so eager to be sociable and chat?”

His first impulse was to repay her aggression with a punishing setdown. But then he looked at her—really looked, beyond the pugnacious expression and beyond her extraordinary beauty, seeing the scared young woman hiding behind those façades. Why wouldn’t she be wary of kind or friendly overtures from him? From her point of view, he’d been an ass ever since the first moment they’d met. Hell, he’d been an ass from anyone’s point of view, truth be told.

He’d been a cruel, taunting ass; until last night, when he’d knelt and worshipped her in a way that was entirely inappropriate for a man with his young bride-to-be. No wonder she was confused and angry.

He sighed. “Very well. Let me tell you about my family.”

* * *

Eva was surprised by his calm capitulation. She’d been expecting one of his cutting setdowns delivered with his characteristic sneer—hoping for that, actually. She couldn’t say why, but she wanted to goad him into another argument.

But she looked at him now, yet another version of the man who’d knelt in front of her last night and done such shocking—yes, she had been shocked, in spite of what she said—and pleasurable things. This new, friendly, interested man bore no resemblance to the one who’d either ignored or taunted her for half a year.

“I am a third son, with only one younger sister. I was encouraged to purchase a commission and serve king and country. I joined when I was sixteen.”

“Why so young?”

“I was an indifferent pupil at school and had no interest in going to university. I’d been army mad since I was a boy, so it seemed like the best decision. Besides, sixteen is not so young. There are plenty who are younger.”

“But those aren’t usually officers.” He gave her a look of surprise and she shrugged. “What? I may only be nineteen but I’m not utterly ignorant of matters beyond balls and Venetian breakfasts. I know two boys in the village who signed on at thirteen and fourteen. But they did menial labor.”

He sat back, as if she’d poked him with a stick. “How the devil is it that you know village boys and what they did in the army?”

The anger that surged through Eva surprised even her. “It’s hardly any of your affair who I know and how I know them, is it?”

He made a noise of frustration. “What is it?”

Eva frowned. “What is what?”

“What is this compulsion of yours to turn every conversation into an argument?”

She opened her mouth to refute the accusation, but then decided to tell the truth. Why not? He’d find out soon enough in any case. She shrugged. “I like to argue.”

He gaped, his expression priceless.