Three more lemons spilled as she jerked upward to see Sebastien Deville lazily lounging on top of one of the stone arches above her. Shock tore through her in the same way the lemons split upon the rocks. Every memory, every touch and sigh, played through her mind. She forcibly strangled them into submission.
She swallowed heavily, gathering her defenses to the fore. "Have you no shame, sir? Those arches are over a thousand years old."
One leg swung indolently like a pendulum in need of winding. "As old as all that? Were you alive to see them built then? An old maid such as yourself?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Get down."
"Perhaps." He smiled, swinging his leg, relaxing on one hand. "I‟ve been waiting for you, and now that I have this lovely view, just able to peek down the valley of your dress, I‟m not sure I want to relinquish my vantage point in the least."
Her free hand automatically pressed against her chest. Everything in her that was sane told her to run, but her limbs seemed lethargically frozen in a parody of immobility.
He leaned forward, his hands splayed to the rock on either side of his thighs, rich brown hair falling into his eyes. "Now that wasn‟t a very nice thing to do in my view. Should we cast bones to determine whether I hop off or whether you resume the show?"
"I believe I shall abstain."
"From which?"
"From both ."
"Perhaps you‟d rather climb up here? We could test the sturdiness of the arch together." One side of his mouth lifted. "You put in quite the effort on the bench the other night."
Her cheeks burned. She reached down to gather the broken lemons. "I don‟t know what you are referring to. Good day, sir." She stepped forward.
"Do you really wish to leave?" he asked in a voice full of humor. "I‟ll just have to ask again in front of a crowd at the manor."
She stopped and turned back. "I can‟t believe I—You are a wretched man."
He smiled devilishly. "I believe you mean a wonderful man. I helped you with your sketch, after all."
"You took advantage of me."
"Such an ugly phrase. I prefer to think of it as persuading you to use my heavenly body to your advantage." His eyes dropped to her lips. "Which I‟m pleased to say you did."
Her mouth dropped. She tried to utter any number of set downs, but nothing emerged.
"Catching the butterflies again?" He whipped the hair from his eyes with a jerk of his head. The lock slowly slid back. "Which shall it be? Are you coming up or am I going down?" There was a wry tug of his mouth. "I must say that both options sound appealing. I believe a toss of the dice may truly be in order."
"I dislike gambling," she said automatically.
"Dislike gambling? It is our country‟s favorite pastime."
"Indeed. Perhaps you should return to the house; there are plenty of horrid men there who will wager with you. Gambling your lots away." Gambling her friend away.
His fingers played over the stone. His eyes turned heavy and jaded. "A Puritan, Miss Sculler? Against all sorts of things? Like gambling, alcohol, the manner of one‟s birth?"
Anger pulsed through her, but at least he hadn‟t learned her name. Surprising.
"Mrs."
"Married? Even better." One edge of his mouth curled.
He was in fine form today, as if truly happy to see her, which was ridiculous—he could no more care for her than she did for him. His eyes were still shadowed and cynical, thankfully, which kept him from being undeniable. His flashes of spark and creativity intrigued her, but the set of his features, which promised he could turn derisive and cruel—his reputation only confirming that to be true—repelled. He reminded her too much of Patrick before he‟d gotten himself killed by a vengeful husband. A charming scoundrel turned bitter and jaded, looking to move to greener pastures.
"Widowed," she said tersely, immediately irritated she had said anything at all.
"The news just keeps growing lovelier." His smile curved further. "And since you mentioned all of us sinners at the house, I can only presume to have the pleasure of the company of Caroline Martin, a long-distance relative who lives on the edge of the estate. Not much of a scullery maid after all."
So much for him not knowing her name. Her lips pinched. "Very good, Mr. Deville. Now if you don‟t mind, my Puritan spirit would like to return home."
A sinful pull of lips followed. "Now that we are all introduced, it would be a shame to part ways so quickly."
"I wouldn‟t find it a shame in the least."
"I‟m not sure I believe you. Not after your body‟s reactions at Roseford." He stretched, his shirt pulling across his chest. "What is so important that you have to return home posthaste? Perhaps I may be of assistance."
Since she was plotting ways to destroy him, she doubted it. "I‟m planning a midsummer celebration for the villagers. Do you care to speculate on the placement of the poles?"
A gleam entered his eyes. "I can speculate quite a bit on the placement of a pole."
She narrowed her eyes. "You are not a gentleman."
His smile grew more deadly, and his eyes hooded. "Never."
He stared at her. She stared back. She shifted but did not relinquish whatever battle of wills they were playing. "Was there something you wished for, Mr. Deville? Or do you simply plan to annoy me this afternoon?"
He vaulted from the top of the arch and landed on cat feet, stealthy and sure.
She scrambled backward, lemons scattering. Two steps brought him closer to her, and she stopped herself from taking a step back like a hare hunted by a fox.
"Have I frightened you, Caroline?" he asked innocently, but his eyes said he knew better.
"What a silly question. And I did not give you permission to use my name."
She crouched to collect the fallen fruit, never letting her eyes stray from his as she lifted each one.
He stepped closer. Lethal blue-green eyes pinned her. Stalking her like prey.
"You seem unsure of my presence. I seem to have a rather unsettling effect on your nerves."
"My nerves are perfectly steady." Her hands gripped the last lemon in one hand and the basket in the other. "I am simply tired, and being in your ghastly presence has made me long for a year‟s nap."
He put a hand over hers. She tried to pull hers away, but it was trapped in silk.
"Then why are you still here?"
"Your threats bullied me into staying. It is impolite of you to suggest otherwise."
"Excellent." And suddenly he was mere inches in front of her, leaning into her, a finger tipping her chin up. "Then if I were to kiss you, it would be impolite to resist."
The pad of his finger held her chin tipped toward his. Zings of sensation pulsed from the point.
Trapped like the hare in the fox‟s net.
Her brain screamed for her to move. His face came closer, the aquamarine of his eyes glowing brighter as his head blocked the sun from view. A feeling beat in her throat, throbbing downward to deep within her belly, a conduit of charged lust and anticipation. A feeling that had long lain dormant before he had entered her well-regulated life, and had revived tenfold in magnitude.
"Mmm…I don‟t think you quite understand the picture you make at this very moment." His lips were a breath from hers, his voice low and deep. "Your eyes are nearly black with desire, the blue all but swallowed from within." The finger traveled down her chin, down her neck, to the hollow of her throat. Her head stayed perfectly still, as if he had sculpted her to the position.
His cheek brushed hers, his lips barely touching her ear. "Don‟t you wish to unlock that passion again, Caroline?"
"No," she whispered, unsure how she‟d managed to do so.
"Are you sure?" The little whispers of air made every small hair in her ear and on her neck stand on end.
"Quite." Her heart thumped an erratic beat.
He pulled away slowly, the look in his eyes satisfied. Clearly disbelieving her.
"I think I could take you here. Prop you up against one of these ancient pillars and drive into you until you bucked and screamed to the ancient gods for release. I think you would simply tip your head back and let me do untold things to your body and mind."
"Never."
He hummed something. "Yes, of course you wouldn‟t be passive. I‟d hardly be interested in driving you against those pillars if you were."
She squeezed the lemon in her hand. "I meant that your scenario will never happen."
"That sounds like something of a challenge, Caroline. Are you attending the party tonight?"
She tried to hide her anxiety. An entire night of this cat-and-mouse game loomed before her.
"I‟ll take that as a yes." He smiled slowly and backed away step by step, still looking at her. Even stepping away from her, he was still the hunter, she hunted. "See you tonight, lovely."