The suggestion sounded straightforward, yet Charlie wasn’t all that sure; the look he sent Simon said as much. But he had little choice; with a graceful bow to her and a nod to Simon, he headed for the far corner of the room.
Simon released her; turning, they strolled toward the open French doors.
She glanced at his face. “Did Lady O really want Charlie? Or are you just being your usual pompous self?”
He met her gaze for an instant, then waved her through the door. “It’ll be fractionally cooler outside.”
She stepped out onto the flags. “You made it up, didn’t you?”
He ushered her along; she swung around and stared at him.
He searched her face. His eyes narrowed. “You’re tipsy. How many glasses of champagne have you had?”
Again, he moved her on, his long fingers closing about her elbow as he steered her along the shadowy terrace. There were couples and groups strolling on the terrace and the nearby lawns, availing themselves of what relief there was in the fresher night air.
“That’s beside the point.” She was quite certain about that. “I’ve never been tipsy before—it’s quite pleasant.” Realizing how true that was, she plucked her elbow from his grip and twirled. “A new experience, and a perfectly harmless one.”
The look on his face was odd—patronizing, but also something else. Something more taken. A frisson of hope ran through her; would her wiles work on him as well?
She fixed her eyes on his face, and smiled winningly. Then she laughed and turned to walk on beside him. They were heading away from the bustle and the ballroom into less frequented areas; they could converse freely.
How silly, now that she thought of it. “No point getting you to talk about
yourself—I know all about you already.”
The end of the terrace loomed near. She felt his gaze on her face.
“Actually”—his voice dropped to a deep murmur—“you know very little about me.”
The words slithered across her nerves, tantalizing, tempting; she merely smiled and let her disbelief show.
“Is that what you’re after—learning about gentlemen?”
She couldn’t recall hearing that peculiarly beguiling tone from him before; tilting her head, she considered. Her mind wasn’t, in truth, operating with its customary facility. “Not about gentlemen in general, and not just about them.” They turned the corner of the terrace and continued on; no one else was strolling on this side of the house. She drew in a breath, let it out with, “I want to learn about all the things I haven’t learned about before.”
There—that should hold him.
“What things?”
She whirled and stopped, her back to the house wall; some instinct warned her they were straying too far from the ballroom. Yet she smiled, openly delighted, at him, letting the happy confidence welling inside her show. “Why, all the things I haven’t experienced before.” She flung out her arms, her gaze locking with his. “The excitement, the thrills. All the things gentlemen can show me that I haven’t bothered with, until now.”
He’d halted, facing her, studying her eyes. His face was in shadow.
“Is that why you were so keen on strolling out here with Charlie?”
There was something in his tone that alerted her, that had her wrestling her wits back into place. She held his gaze steadily, and answered with the truth. “I don’t know. It wasn’t my suggestion—it was his.”
“Hardly surprising, given your wish to learn. And you did come out here.”
The accusation in his voice focused her wits wonderfully.
She lifted her chin. “With you. Not him.”
Silence.
The challenge lay between them, implicit, understood.
Their gazes remained locked; neither shifted, broke the spell. The heat of the night intensified and closed about them. She could have sworn things swayed. She could feel the blood beating under her skin, at her temples.