Eugenie knew what sort of reward he wanted. There didn’t seem much point in acting coy, especially when she wanted the contact as much as he did. Stretching up on her tiptoes she brushed her lips over his. With a growl he caught her up in his arms and held her tight against his body, plundering her mouth in a very ungentlemanlike manner.
This was the Sinclair she’d never imagined lay beneath his cold and aloof social exterior. The man few others knew. This was her Sinclair, passionate and fiery and very human. Eugenie wound her arms about his neck and kissed him back, giving herself up to the heat of passion.
When at last, breathless and dizzy, she drew away, the sparkle in his eyes had turned into a blaze.
Eugenie felt the same tingle of doubt begin to build again, the unease she’d been experiencing off and on all morning. Was she really not afraid of him? Somerton had seemed the perfect gentleman but perhaps he wasn’t as easy to manage as she’d imagined. Could she really control him? Could she really expect a man who’d had his own way all his life to listen to a woman like her?
Evidently he read her expression again because he gave a rough laugh and said, “Don’t fear, Miss Belmont, I’m not going to ravish you. Not today. Although I cannot make promises about what I may do tomorrow.”
“You’re jesting,” she said flatly. “Aren’t you?”
“Am I?” His eyes narrowed. “Unless you want to be ravished?”
Warm pink flooded her face. “That is hardly something a lady would admit,” she replied automatically. “Gentlewomen do not ask to be ravished.”
“More’s the pity,” he mocked, a sulky droop to his mouth.
“Oh?” She found herself suddenly curious about his domestic arrangements. “I would have thought the Duke of Somerton would have plenty of women begging to be ravished by him. It is my understanding of the aristocracy—which I admit is limited—that they have a mistress in every house.”
Laughter lit his eyes and the sullen little boy look was gone. “Is this your way of asking me whether I presently have a mistress, Eugenie?”
“I suppose it is,” she said, with a mischievous smile.
He leaned against the tree trunk at her side, gazing down into her face. “You are making me wonder why you would want to ask so personal a question. Most young ladies of gentle upbringing would consider such a topic of conversation an abomination. They are taught not to notice such things and if they do to look the other way.”
“Then I am not like most young ladies.”
“No, Eugenie, you are unique.”
His eyes delved into hers. He was very close now, and once again she felt that frisson. She was beginning to think it was a perverse sort of excitement. He was pursuing her in earnest now and Eugenie would have to make a decision soon. Did she want to be caught?
He reached out, his thumb against her skin, stroking her cheek. She sighed at his touch, closing her eyes the better to enjoy it, while his voice brushed over her like another caress.
“I am wondering, Eugenie, why you would ask such a question if there wasn’t a reason for it. So I ask myself why would you want to know if I have a mistress? Can you be imagining yourself in that enviable position?”
His words penetrated her haze of pleasure. She stiffened and abruptly her heart turned leaden and heavy. The game had become serious. Of course she had known that eventually he would take this direction; it was the only direction he could take. Sinclair was a duke and Eugenie was . . . well, a nobody.
Sinclair was watching her, a frown between his brows. He seemed to know he’d said the wrong thing. His hand dropped to his side. “You appear shocked,” he said, with a humorless laugh. “As the descendant of a royal mistress I would have thought you more broadminded, Eugenie.”
She wasn’t shocked. Not really. She was disappointed. She had been enjoying herself and now she would have to put an end to this game between them.
“Wait!”
Eugenie realized with surprise that she was already several paces across the clearing.
“Please, listen to what I have to say. Eugenie?”
He sounded ruffled, shaken. As if she’d pushed him into speaking of things he wasn’t ready to speak of. As if he was in a position he had never been in before and didn’t quite know how to handle it.
She waited, standing with her back to him, hearing his approach. He waited a beat, and then his hands rested lightly upon her shoulders. She felt his breath stirring her curls and longed to lean her head back against him.
“I accept you are a well brought up young lady of gentle birth, but even you must admit, Eugenie, that your family is far from top drawer. Your father is in debt, and when he does have money from one of his doubtful deals, he throws it away.”
“You do not have to tell me what my father is capable of,” she said angrily. “I do not want to speak of him.”
“Forgive my careless words, Eugenie.”
He took a breath, as if he would say more, but whatever it was he thought better of it. Instead he bent his head and kissed the nape of her neck, making her shiver. Again his tenderness tempted her to stay with him, but she reminded herself that he’d disappointed her. In another moment he’d be asking her straight out to be his mistress and sudden