you charge for a mildly amusing an ecdote?” Colin added quickly, because he very much wanted her to do it again. By way of persuasion, he offered one of his own smiles, the sultry variety that usually started blushes up in even the most jaded of fe males. He supposed a compliment to her eyes wouldn’t go amiss, in a moment.
Madeleine Greenway’s head tipped a bit, studying him. As though what he’d just said required translating into her own language.
“Oh.” She sounded as though she’d arrived at a disappointing conclusion. “You’re about to flatter my eyes, aren’t you? Like velvet, are they? Midnight skies? Deep, deep poooolllls ?” She gave the l a mocking, aristocratic
trill.
Colin nearly reared back. She was very good.
He was better.
“No,” he said, his voice soft, fi rm, matter-of-fact. “Your eyes in no way resemble midnight skies, Mrs . Greenway. Nor do they in the least call to mind pools. You’ve perfected the art of disguising your emotions, which I think is aided in some way by that great pale forehead of yours—it is, I should tell you, consider able . Though I’ve decided it suits you. And you’ve very severe, if handsomely shaped, eyebrows, and quite a soft, feminine mouth, and your skin reflects light rather like a good pearl, and if you ask any of the mistresses I’ve enjoyed, they will tell you that if there’s anything I know, it’s how to tell the good pearls from the fl awed. Your face is all about contradictions, Mrs. Greenway, and for this reason the whole of it helps you appear enigmatic. But you see, your eyes will always ultimately give you away, if you are not very careful. Because your eyes are soft, like the centers of dark fl owers, and there are little stars in those depths when you smile. And your eyelashes are adequate.”
Her eyelashes were like little fans of mink, but he wasn’t about to say it.
He knew ridiculous pleasure when it became very clear Madeleine Greenway was struck dumb.
Then again, so was he, for that matter. Some com bustible combination of fatigue and fury and pent-up charm had propelled the speech like a geyser out of him. It had been calculated to churn the typical female mind into butter. God only knew what it would do to Mrs. Greenway’s mind, as she was far from the typical female.
A moment passed during which he savored his tri umph, and during which Miss Greenway’s soft bottom lip dropped just the barest hint.
He refused to release her from his gaze.
“Well, Mr. Eversea.” When her voice emerged faint but steady, he knew both reluctant admiration and regret. “What a good deal of effort you put into your speech. You should thank me for inspiring it. Your abil ity to charm might atrophy from disuse otherwise.”
“You interpreted all of that as charm? That bodes well.”
Another flare of surprised humor in those soft dark eyes, another faint smile. He hadn’t invented those little stars; a soft little light did shine in those depths when she smiled. It was a precarious moment, and might be very short-lived, but Madeleine Greenway was dis armed. And in Colin Eversea’s experience, the next step after disarmament was usually conquest. It was some thing he knew as well as he knew how to load a musket, bluff a hand of cards, dodge his creditors. But for now he simply wanted the upper hand he typically had with any woman, because it would help restore a sense of rightness to his world.
“Come, tell me who you really are, Mrs. Greenway,” he coaxed softly into that softening breech.
She blinked, then straightened her spine, subtly, un mistakably, imposing distance.
“I am whoever I need to be, Mr. Eversea. And you are not the first man to find the very fact of this intrigu ing, nor will you be the last. Or the most interesting, I might add.”
It was a goad, and probably meant to either persuade him to become more docile or to challenge him to con tinue trying to be interesting. He wagered, optimistically, on the
Madeleine Greenway’s head tipped a bit, studying him. As though what he’d just said required translating into her own language.
“Oh.” She sounded as though she’d arrived at a disappointing conclusion. “You’re about to flatter my eyes, aren’t you? Like velvet, are they? Midnight skies? Deep, deep poooolllls ?” She gave the l a mocking, aristocratic
trill.
Colin nearly reared back. She was very good.
He was better.
“No,” he said, his voice soft, fi rm, matter-of-fact. “Your eyes in no way resemble midnight skies, Mrs . Greenway. Nor do they in the least call to mind pools. You’ve perfected the art of disguising your emotions, which I think is aided in some way by that great pale forehead of yours—it is, I should tell you, consider able . Though I’ve decided it suits you. And you’ve very severe, if handsomely shaped, eyebrows, and quite a soft, feminine mouth, and your skin reflects light rather like a good pearl, and if you ask any of the mistresses I’ve enjoyed, they will tell you that if there’s anything I know, it’s how to tell the good pearls from the fl awed. Your face is all about contradictions, Mrs. Greenway, and for this reason the whole of it helps you appear enigmatic. But you see, your eyes will always ultimately give you away, if you are not very careful. Because your eyes are soft, like the centers of dark fl owers, and there are little stars in those depths when you smile. And your eyelashes are adequate.”
Her eyelashes were like little fans of mink, but he wasn’t about to say it.
He knew ridiculous pleasure when it became very clear Madeleine Greenway was struck dumb.
Then again, so was he, for that matter. Some com bustible combination of fatigue and fury and pent-up charm had propelled the speech like a geyser out of him. It had been calculated to churn the typical female mind into butter. God only knew what it would do to Mrs. Greenway’s mind, as she was far from the typical female.
A moment passed during which he savored his tri umph, and during which Miss Greenway’s soft bottom lip dropped just the barest hint.
He refused to release her from his gaze.
“Well, Mr. Eversea.” When her voice emerged faint but steady, he knew both reluctant admiration and regret. “What a good deal of effort you put into your speech. You should thank me for inspiring it. Your abil ity to charm might atrophy from disuse otherwise.”
“You interpreted all of that as charm? That bodes well.”
Another flare of surprised humor in those soft dark eyes, another faint smile. He hadn’t invented those little stars; a soft little light did shine in those depths when she smiled. It was a precarious moment, and might be very short-lived, but Madeleine Greenway was dis armed. And in Colin Eversea’s experience, the next step after disarmament was usually conquest. It was some thing he knew as well as he knew how to load a musket, bluff a hand of cards, dodge his creditors. But for now he simply wanted the upper hand he typically had with any woman, because it would help restore a sense of rightness to his world.
“Come, tell me who you really are, Mrs. Greenway,” he coaxed softly into that softening breech.
She blinked, then straightened her spine, subtly, un mistakably, imposing distance.
“I am whoever I need to be, Mr. Eversea. And you are not the first man to find the very fact of this intrigu ing, nor will you be the last. Or the most interesting, I might add.”
It was a goad, and probably meant to either persuade him to become more docile or to challenge him to con tinue trying to be interesting. He wagered, optimistically, on the
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