It was strange though—without the evidence of her eyes, she’d guess his interest in Cassandra wasn’t sexual. There was no crackle when they were together. Nothing approaching the sparking lightning that arced between him and Antonia now.
Stupid, stupid girl. That was a rake’s skill, the ability to make any woman imagine herself his sole interest. Common sense, so far remarkably lacking, insisted he couldn’t be attracted to Cassandra’s forbidding duenna.
He used his formidable appeal to overwhelm her. She, silly goose, allowed him.
She felt him staring at her through the shadows. But she was safe. Her disguise had protected her for ten years. Lord Ranelaw just made her nervous.
It was as if he read her thoughts. “You know, your assumption of invincibility is damned challenging.”
She shrugged. “Why would you bother? I’m well below your notice, my lord. Except in my role as Cassandra’s guard dog. Be warned, I take that seriously. You’re not a suitable match. Her father will never agree to a marriage if that’s your hope. If you’ve anything other than marriage in mind, you’re wasting your time. She’s too sensible to allow herself to be ruined.”
“Is that so?” he asked in a musing voice. “What about you?”
His nonchalance caught her on the raw. Anger rescued her from tumbling into beguilement. Anger she’d crammed deep inside for years. It was so easy for men like Ranelaw. No consequences. No dangers. Their swaggering left a bloody trail of broken hearts and lives, but what did they care as long as they satisfied their selfish desires?
For once Lord Ranelaw wasn’t getting his own way.
She spoke with complete conviction. “Your attentions aren’t welcome. Leave me alone. Leave Cassandra alone.” She shoved hard at his chest. Her strength couldn’t match his so she was surprised he stepped back. “Good night, my lord. I hope this is our last conversation.”
“I would be devastated if that were so,” he said in a silky voice that made her bristle.
“I’m sure you’ll recover.” She flicked her meager skirts and marched through the French doors.
She should feel triumphant she put the overweening Lord Ranelaw in his place. Sadly, she was aware she only escaped because he let her go.
This particular duel had hardly started.
Ranelaw watched the dragon flounce away. Unholy excitement bubbled in his blood. With every encounter, she became more intriguing, with her spirit and her resistance and her secrets, one of which he’d long ago guessed.
However much she wanted to hate him, she was far from immune to the heat surging between them.
An owl hooted from the undergrowth, reminding him he wasn’t here to satisfy his desires but to set his mark on the Demarest girl. With luck—and with women, he was always supremely lucky—he’d waylay her after supper.
Wishing he garnered more enthusiasm for the task, he grimly tugged on his gloves and strode inside.
He lurked in the gallery off the supper room and was delighted to see Cassie returning ahead of the crowd in company with another butterfly. Even better, gimlet-eyed Miss Smith was nowhere in evidence.
Perhaps his subtle threats daunted her.
Hell, he mused on the guardian and not the charge again. He needed to be careful. Cassie was innocent and easily flattered, but he couldn’t become too blasé about seducing her. The prize in this game was too important for him to mar his chances with overconfidence.
“Miss Demarest, have you seen this beautiful Claude? Allow me to show you.” He fastened a possessive hand around Cassie’s arm. The girl started but made no attempt to escape.
Miss Demarest’s companion burst into a peal of irritating giggles and blushed red as a tomato. Cassie cast him a skeptical glance that proved an unwelcome reminder of the way her chaperone had received his seductive overtures.
Cassie’s voice emerged steadily. “Miss Smith and I admired the Claudes in the National Gallery last week. I should dearly love to see more of the artist’s work.”
“I’ll find Mamma,” the other girl twittered and darted back to the supper room in a rustle of white skirts.
“How kind of your friend to grant us privacy,” Ranelaw murmured, staring at Cassie in his best rake manner and tightening his hold on her arm. “I’ve longed for a moment alone with you.”
“We won’t be alone for very long,” the girl pointed out coolly.
“All the more reason to take advantage of our chance,” he said, then added with complete honesty, “You’re a devilish pretty girl, Miss Demarest.”
“Thank you.”
What the hell? He’d expected a little more reaction than that to his blatant interest. Blast the chit, she betrayed not one whit of nervousness. Instead she studied him with an utterly sexless curiosity.