Mutual Consent by Gayle Buck Page A

that she flinched at his sudden proximity. He did not touch her, therefore, but merely addressed her. “Do not come on the high ropes with me, Babs. It doesn’t become you,’’ he said measuredly. He saw the spark of anger in her green eyes, and he was glad of it, for the fear that always seemed to spring into the depths of her eyes when he dared approach her vanished with its appearance.
    “You are insufferable, my lord,” Babs exclaimed. “It is you who has been less than kind and you think nothing of baiting me at every turn. How dare you try to intimidate me when I-”
    “Try to intimidate you? My dear girl, if you were any more frightened of me, I dare swear that you would faint dead away from sheer terror,” said Lord Chatworth in derision.
    ‘“I am not frightened of you.”
    “Oh, no? Shall we test for the truth of it, Babs?” With one hand Lord Chatworth caught her chin. As he had anticipated, she made an instinctive move to retreat. But now she stood quite still and he was impressed by her self-control. He smiled down into her furious green eyes.
    Babs defied him with her returning stare.
    The challenge was unmistakable. He could sense the tension in her and he wondered how much of her own mistress she actually was. He had seen so many conflicting sides of her: when she had come to meet with him, he had detected suppressed desperation; when they had dined together, he had dismissed her as dull-witted and inane; when he had accused her of base betrayal, she had determinedly brought him to realize her innocence; when she had been at her most vulnerable, she had nevertheless recognized and drawn back from his advances.
    He had never encountered a more complex woman. Nor one that showed herself to be such a challenge to his own pride.
    He could hardly recall a time when he had not been pursued by the fairer sex, whether it was for the sake of his face and physical attributes, or for his position and wealth. It scarcely mattered when he had begun to pursue and conquer on his own account; he had long since taken for granted that he need not exert himself unduly to have practically any woman he desired. His reputation was that of a confirmed rake, and he had never experienced any wish to alter it.
    The present circumstances hardly gave him cause to regret otherwise. On the contrary, he thought, he had the opportunity to deliver a salutory lesson to a lady whose ignorance of his reputation had led to the insult of his pride.
    Lord Chatworth did not take his eyes from his wife’s face. He slowly bent his head to brush his lips across hers. The sensation was pleasing, her mouth soft and pliable, her breath sweat and warm.
    He caught her mouth more closely. He could feel the tenseness in her body just by the way she held herself, but it scarcely mattered when he found himself able to kiss her without reproof. He broke free of the pleasant exercise to trace her jawline with tiny kisses. His lips touched the sensitive area behind her ear and he lingered. Beneath his mouth, he felt her shiver. He whispered, “Are you not frightened, Babs?”
    “No!” There was a breathless catch in her voice.
    Lord Chatworth smiled to himself, that peculiar smile that had been bequeathed him. Half-hooded, his eyes glimmered with a rousing desire. He straightened to capture her mouth again, this time allowing himself to show her some measure of his banked passion. Her lips parted under his insistence and he deepened the kiss, savoring the clean taste of her mouth.
    His hands came up to cradle her against him. Still he did nothing more than to draw her closer. She remained stiff in his arms, one of her hands awkwardly pushing against his chest while the other had latched onto the arm that he had placed about her small waist.
    At last he let her go, though every part of him had become reluctant to do so. But it was not his intention to seduce her entirely. Not yet, at any rate. His glance dwelled on her parted lips and the breath