As the Devil Dares (Capturing the Carlisles #3)(66)

“If you want to please me,” he told her quietly as the crowd began to shift and couples moved toward the dance floor, the music swirling around them like a swift current, “then dance with me.”

She gaped over her shoulder at him, eyes wide with surprise. “Pardon?”

“Give me the pleasure of your company tonight,” he ordered enticingly. He stole a caress down her arm and felt her pulse spike beneath his fingertips at her wrist as he repeated in a low drawl, “Dance with me, Mariah.”

She hesitated, with a look of uncertain longing clouding her face. His lips curved into the start of a pleased smile, knowing she was on the verge of capitulating.

But pride got the better of the obstinate hellcat, and she gave a tight shake of her head. “I don’t want to dance with you.”

He clenched his jaw against the mounting frustration. Oh no. The little minx wasn’t going to succeed in refusing him so easily. Not tonight. Not when he ached to have her close.

Knowing she couldn’t resist a challenge, he lowered his mouth to her ear and murmured, “What’s stopping you, Mariah?” The spicy scent of oranges and cinnamon intoxicated him, pulling straight through him until his gut tightened into a knot of desire. Until it was far more than dancing that he wanted to do with her. “Afraid you might enjoy being in my arms?”

Her eyes flashed with an angry intensity. “Are you still afraid of getting burned?” she threw back.

He snapped up straight at her unexpected accusation. “Burned?” he repeated, puzzled. “What do you—”

Christ.

The realization struck him as forcefully as if she’d slapped him. Her words echoed inside him, the same ones he’d used against her at the school when she’d gotten too close. When his attraction for her had gone beyond the merely physical and was becoming so great that he’d desperately needed a reminder of who she was and the threat she posed.

His chest sank with leaden remorse as he watched the hurt dance like green flames in her eyes, the defensive lift of her chin in an attempt to replace the pain with pride. She’d opened her heart to him, sharing with him her love for the children of St Katharine’s and her worry about her sister, only for him to callously shatter that tender trust. And the way she’d let him kiss her, trusting him enough to bare herself to his eyes and mouth—

No wonder she’d showered him with cold water. When she’d been at her most vulnerable, he was a thoughtless cad.

“I was wrong to think that and an arse to say it,” he admitted with chagrin. Shifting as close as propriety allowed, he felt her soften at his apology. “It’s the other men who can’t tolerate the heat of you, who aren’t up to the challenge. Who aren’t man enough to handle a woman like you.” He paused, then admitted hoarsely, “You know the effect you have on me. I can’t think straight when you’re near.”

She caught her breath in surprise, but he couldn’t deny it. She drove him out of his right mind, until he didn’t know what to think or say. For God’s sake, he wanted nothing more whenever he was alone with her than to fall into a verbal sparring match, then pull her into his arms and kiss over every inch of her. And to his utter bewilderment, she was the only woman he’d ever met who gave him hope that he, too, could eventually overcome the death of a parent.

Even now he was unable to keep from touching her and dared to caress his hand against the small of her back. “I crave your fire, Mariah.”

She swallowed. Sudden nervousness spread over her and mixed with the alluring vulnerability that drew him so strongly. Yet she managed to reply acerbically, “And risk a second dousing?”

“For a taste of you?” he drawled rakishly, his gaze falling longingly to her ripe mouth. “Absolutely.”

She inhaled a ragged breath. For one unguarded heartbeat, a look of longing sparked in the green depths of her eyes, and her pulse raced in the hollow at the base of her neck. In that fleeting moment he also saw a flash of the same brashness that had led her to push her behavior to the edge of propriety, the same passion that had made her return the boldness of his kisses—it was a look of pure temptation.

But in a single breath it vanished, and her damnable pride rose once more to the surface.

She slipped her arm away from his hold and handed him her half-empty glass of champagne. The gesture was one of dismissal, but the way that her fingers shook told him that their brief conversation had affected her. “Then you’ll be very disappointed to discover that you can’t have what you want, either.”

She turned on her heel and without a backward glance walked through the open French doors and out into the dark night.

His eyes narrowed to slits as he stared after her, long after her slender form had vanished into the shadows of the garden. Damn her. For her to think that she could prick at him so freely, that she could make his heart pound and his blood boil with both desire and fury, then simply walk away—

Not this time.

He tossed back the rest of the champagne and stalked after her.

*



Mariah ducked beneath an overgrown willow tree in the far corner of the garden, the dark shadows and the tree’s thick branches that bent to the ground hiding her from view.

Grateful to be alone, she leaned against the trunk and sucked in a deep breath of air so cold that it tingled in her lungs. Thankfully, the garden was empty, with no one there to witness her confusion and frustration. Only a handful of couples were outside, and they remained on the terrace and close to the house. She thought she’d spied Evie standing among them with Burton Williams, but she couldn’t stop to make certain. Not when she’d so desperately needed to flee before she screamed.