generally shared a tray with Shelby in his study. "Actually no." In fact, he couldn't remember when last he'd eaten in this room. "Would you rather have dinner somewhere else?"
In bed with you, she thought, still trembling from his touch, but it wouldn't do to be so forward. Bess had said men never liked women to give orders. "This is very nice. Really."
"Would you like a glass of champagne?" he asked because he badly needed a drink.
"Oh, I would very much. Thank you."
With a nod, he indicated Pomeroy serve them. "The room seems warm, or I'd suggest we sit by the fire, although you're probably not warm," he added with a smile, surveying her scantily dressed form.
"Actually I am… dreadfully warm, I mean—the room is indeed warm…"
Her stammering innocence was charming. "So we'll sit away from the fire."
"Yes, please, I'd like that."
Suddenly she seemed very young, very different from the seductive minx in the entrance hall, and he felt an odd disquiet. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
His sigh of relief brought a smile to her face.
"I didn't realize age mattered."
"It's bad enough—just set the tray down, Pomeroy, we'll serve ourselves." As the butler walked away, Dermott said, "It's bad enough you're a virgin; I'm not, however, about to bed some adolescent child." A grin broke across his face. "Although you definitely don't have the look of a child, Miss Leslie. And I mean it in the most complimentary way." He handed Isabella a stemmed goblet of champagne.
"Molly thought you'd like the gown," Isabella said, a half-smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "Do I look sufficiently seductive?"
"In that dress? Completely, wholly, exuberantly. And white—interesting," he murmured over the rim of his glass.
"A metaphor, I believe." Her blue eyes sparkled. "Molly's idea again."
"She sets the stage well."
"I am also well trained, sir," she sportively noted. "Although not to your standards perhaps. Your reputation is formidable."
He slid lower in his chair, his gaze taking on a faintly disgruntled expression at the reminder of their disparate lives. "I wish you weren't a virgin."
"I could relinquish my virginity to someone else first if you like."
"No," he snapped.
"You could watch," she suggested, innuendo in her tone.
"Not likely," he growled.
"Or we could get this over as quickly as possible."
"You have a sense of humor, Miss Leslie."
"I watched
you
one night."
He glared at her. "Damned Molly should have kept you in your room."
"Don't blame her. I was quite alone, and what better teacher than you, after all. Although you were selfish. I'm not sure the lady enjoyed herself."
He relaxed marginally. Obviously, she hadn't stayed long. He was grateful for that. "I'll try not to be selfish with you."
"Molly says I'm allowed to be as selfish as I wish because you can take care of yourself."
"Meaning?" he asked, grinning.
"Meaning you are an accomplished libertine."
"I can't argue with you there."
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Why do you do it?"
What a startling question. "Why not?"
"You engage in debauch without thinking?"
He shrugged. "Mostly."
"
I've
thought quite a deal about tonight."
"In your case, I have too. Don't look so surprised. I
don't as a rule,"—he smiled—"engage in debauch with virgins. So you see, tonight is different."
"How different?"
One dark brow rose, amusement in his eyes. "Is this a catechism?"
"Do you know?" She wanted her question answered.
"As a matter of fact, I don't. I don't have the vaguest notion why you fascinate me."
"I fascinate you?"
He shrugged again. "It seems so."
"Because of this?" She swept her hand over her gown.
"Definitely a factor," he said with a boyish grin.
"I confess your good looks are a most potent lure for me."
"Then we can both be accused of being shallow," he sportively affirmed. Although he knew better. He'd slept with scores of great beauties and never felt what he felt right now.
"Do you actually want to eat?"
His heart missed a beat. "You
In bed with you, she thought, still trembling from his touch, but it wouldn't do to be so forward. Bess had said men never liked women to give orders. "This is very nice. Really."
"Would you like a glass of champagne?" he asked because he badly needed a drink.
"Oh, I would very much. Thank you."
With a nod, he indicated Pomeroy serve them. "The room seems warm, or I'd suggest we sit by the fire, although you're probably not warm," he added with a smile, surveying her scantily dressed form.
"Actually I am… dreadfully warm, I mean—the room is indeed warm…"
Her stammering innocence was charming. "So we'll sit away from the fire."
"Yes, please, I'd like that."
Suddenly she seemed very young, very different from the seductive minx in the entrance hall, and he felt an odd disquiet. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
His sigh of relief brought a smile to her face.
"I didn't realize age mattered."
"It's bad enough—just set the tray down, Pomeroy, we'll serve ourselves." As the butler walked away, Dermott said, "It's bad enough you're a virgin; I'm not, however, about to bed some adolescent child." A grin broke across his face. "Although you definitely don't have the look of a child, Miss Leslie. And I mean it in the most complimentary way." He handed Isabella a stemmed goblet of champagne.
"Molly thought you'd like the gown," Isabella said, a half-smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "Do I look sufficiently seductive?"
"In that dress? Completely, wholly, exuberantly. And white—interesting," he murmured over the rim of his glass.
"A metaphor, I believe." Her blue eyes sparkled. "Molly's idea again."
"She sets the stage well."
"I am also well trained, sir," she sportively noted. "Although not to your standards perhaps. Your reputation is formidable."
He slid lower in his chair, his gaze taking on a faintly disgruntled expression at the reminder of their disparate lives. "I wish you weren't a virgin."
"I could relinquish my virginity to someone else first if you like."
"No," he snapped.
"You could watch," she suggested, innuendo in her tone.
"Not likely," he growled.
"Or we could get this over as quickly as possible."
"You have a sense of humor, Miss Leslie."
"I watched
you
one night."
He glared at her. "Damned Molly should have kept you in your room."
"Don't blame her. I was quite alone, and what better teacher than you, after all. Although you were selfish. I'm not sure the lady enjoyed herself."
He relaxed marginally. Obviously, she hadn't stayed long. He was grateful for that. "I'll try not to be selfish with you."
"Molly says I'm allowed to be as selfish as I wish because you can take care of yourself."
"Meaning?" he asked, grinning.
"Meaning you are an accomplished libertine."
"I can't argue with you there."
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Why do you do it?"
What a startling question. "Why not?"
"You engage in debauch without thinking?"
He shrugged. "Mostly."
"
I've
thought quite a deal about tonight."
"In your case, I have too. Don't look so surprised. I
don't as a rule,"—he smiled—"engage in debauch with virgins. So you see, tonight is different."
"How different?"
One dark brow rose, amusement in his eyes. "Is this a catechism?"
"Do you know?" She wanted her question answered.
"As a matter of fact, I don't. I don't have the vaguest notion why you fascinate me."
"I fascinate you?"
He shrugged again. "It seems so."
"Because of this?" She swept her hand over her gown.
"Definitely a factor," he said with a boyish grin.
"I confess your good looks are a most potent lure for me."
"Then we can both be accused of being shallow," he sportively affirmed. Although he knew better. He'd slept with scores of great beauties and never felt what he felt right now.
"Do you actually want to eat?"
His heart missed a beat. "You
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