A Simple Case of Seduction

“Who are these men you’re acquainted with?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know.”

“Then I suggest you check your notebook. That is where you keep a record of your spying activities, is it not?”

He raised a brow and snorted. “Though I have serious doubts over your physical strength in battle, your mind is sharper than a knight’s sword.”

The compliment made her smile. “And while I have no doubt you’re the strongest man I know, I find your logic lacking. Anyone who wields a weapon is a threat, regardless of gender.”

“That is where your lack of experience fails you. The desperate need to escape the hangman’s noose creates unpredictability. I’ve seen a man take a ball in the back so his comrades may escape.” He leant forward, his elbow resting on his knee. “Confronted by a woman, they would take their pleasure before leaving her for dead.”

Thorpe spoke with such conviction Daphne wondered what horrors he had witnessed during his time as an enquiry agent.

“After what I’ve seen of gentlemen’s habits at the molly-house, there is nothing to stop you from suffering a similar fate,” she replied.

Thorpe’s expression darkened. “Trust me, I’d rip their heads from their shoulders before they could rouse an immoral thought.” His penetrating stare travelled slowly down the length of her body. “You, I fear, would be helpless.”

Despite a burning need to prove him wrong, Daphne recognised the truth in his words. While a pistol worked as a deterrent, there were men savage enough, conniving enough, to manipulate events to their advantage. Still, she couldn’t help but tease the sour-faced gentleman sitting opposite.

“I do have some skill with my fists.” Monsieur Tullier insisted she tell no one of his private tuition in the art of pugilism, fearing he might be bombarded with feisty women too headstrong to do as they were told. “Probably not as powerful as the punches you throw.” An image of a hammer smashing down on an anvil sprang to mind. “But I’m confident I could break a man’s nose if necessary.”

Thorpe’s nostrils flared. The surrounding air sparked with a volatile energy. The temperature within the small space rose till Daphne thought the carriage might combust.

“Despite disapproving of your work, I’ve never taken you for a fool.” Thorpe had the look of a man doing Lucifer’s bidding. “So let us put an end to this matter once and for all. Let’s see how capable you are with a man intent on getting his way.”

Without warning, Mr Thorpe grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the opposite side of the carriage. There was no time to react as she tumbled into his lap.

“I am only holding one hand,” he said in a slow, arrogant drawl. “Let us see if your iron fist can r

ender me helpless.”

Anger should have been the primary emotion coursing through her veins. She was eager to prove her worth, equally frustrated at his high-handed approach. But sitting across his muscular thighs, inhaling the potent scent that clung to his clothes, his hair, his skin, proved too much of a distraction.

How quickly logical thought abandoned her when presented with an opportunity to experience close human contact.

“One’s weapon of choice must suit the circumstances,” she whispered, the seductive lilt in her voice evident as her mind raced two steps ahead. “And I do have another weapon in my arsenal, one you have not considered.”

The element of surprise was crucial in any form of attack. Pushing aside her doubts — for when in combat only the confident prevailed — Daphne pressed her mouth to his, leant into his hard body and kissed him.

The hair on his chin proved to be less irritating than expected. The lips hidden beneath were warm and surprisingly soft. Thorpe remained rigid, motionless, while she moved her firm mouth over his. The kiss was supposed to shock him. And so to that end, it served her purpose. But she wanted a reaction.

She demanded a reaction.

With that in mind, she altered the pressure, running featherlight kisses across his lips, nipping at the corners.

Still, he gave nothing.

Damn the man. Was it stubbornness that made him refuse to surrender? Was it his determination to prove a point?

Well, she had a point to prove too.

For fear of looking foolish, Daphne tried the only other option available — she ran her tongue over the seam of his lips hoping to delve deeper inside.

Daniel Thorpe reacted instantly.

The passion that lay dormant burst to life with a sudden flurry of activity. A deep groan resonated from the back of his throat. His free hand slid around her back, gathered the material of her dress in his fist and crushed her to his chest.