But the instant her half boots touched the grass in the park, she jerked her hand from his arm and strode out. Away from him. Away from the temptation of hitting him—trying to hit him; she knew he wouldn’t let her.
Gall burned her throat; she’d thought him out of his depth in the ton, but it was she who had had her eyes closed. Lulled into doe-eyed trust by a wolf—who hadn’t even bothered to wear wool!
She gritted her teeth against a scream, one directed against herself. She’d known what he was like from the first—a remarkably ruthless man.
Abruptly, she came to a halt. Panic would get her nowhere, especially with a man like him. She had to think, had to act—in the right way.
So what had he done? What had he actually accomplished? And how could she negate or reverse it?
She stood still as her wits slowly realigned. A measure of calm descended; it wasn’t—couldn’t be—as bad as she’d thought.
She spun around and wasn’t the least surprised to discover him two feet away, watching her.
Carefully.
She locked her eyes on his. “Have you said anything to anyone about us?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “No.”
“So that girl was simply…” She gestured with both hands.
“Extrapolating.”
She narrowed her eyes. “As you knew everyone would.”
He didn’t reply.
She continued to look daggers at him as the realization that all was not lost—that he hadn’t created a social snare she couldn’t simply step out of—seeped through her. Her temper subsided; her annoyance did not. “This is not a game.”
A moment went by before he said, “All life is a game.”
“And you play to win?” She infused the words with something close to contempt.
He stirred, then reached out, took her hand.
To her utter surprise, he jerked her to him.
She gasped as she landed against his chest.
Felt his arm lock her to him.
Felt smoldering embers burst into flame.
He looked down at her, then carried the hand he’d trapped to his lips. Slowly brushed his lips to her fingers, then across her palm, lastly pressed them to her wrist. Holding her gaze, holding her captive all the while.
His eyes burned, reflecting all she could sense flaring between them.
“What’s between you and me remains between you and me, but it hasn’t gone away.” He held her gaze. “And it won’t.”
He lowered his head. She dragged in a breath. “But I don’t want it.”
From under his lashes, his eyes met hers, then he murmured, “Too late.”
And kissed her.
* * *
She’d called him a fiend, and she’d been right.