"But you want me to beg," she whispered, her eyes glittering with heat. "Don't you?"
For a second, he felt an answering heat swell within him too. He'd thought this would be a challenge, but no more than any other woman who guarded her heart. It had seemed a forgone conclusion. He was the Duke of Malloryn, an expert in both understanding the base desires of a person and wielding such desires with a metaphorical lash. Adele would surrender. A fun game while it lasted, but not a long one.
But the challenge in her eyes....
She'd read him too.
And she knew exactly which buttons to push to ignite his own sense of curiosity.
"Yes," he whispered as she settled directly in front of him, her shoulders squared. "I want you to beg. I want you to scream with pleasure, my dear. I want to own you."
"You couldn't," she shot back, "even if you engaged all of your prowess. My heart does not rule me. I will never allow any man to own my happiness, or my desires."
Now it was getting interesting.
He stroked the back of his gloved hand down her bodice, barely touching the silk. Adele's breasts lifted as she smothered a swift intake of breath.
But it was there.
And they both knew it.
"Are you daring me to try?"
She set one hand to his chest and pushed.
He stepped back.
"Be careful, Your Grace, that I do not consider my own attempt. I'm not the only one who can fall."
Malloryn captured her hand and held it there, where she could feel the thump of his heart. "I should like to see you try."
A breathless moment extended as they beheld each other.
Adversaries always.
But for the first time he felt something else between them. He'd been furious when she'd first trapped him into marriage, but there'd always been a tiny little part of him that had been intrigued.
Nobody got the better of the Duke of Malloryn.
But Adele had.
The constant sparring between them grated at first, and yet he had to admit it had become a little bit of a game between them. Now this....
He had a horrible feeling he might have finally met his match in this woman.
Lifting her gloved fingers to his lips, he brushed his lips there, soft and decadently slow, even as he never took his eyes from her.
"What are you suggesting?" she murmured.
"War."
"Isn't that what we've been engaging in all along?"
"Not like this." He slowly turned her wrist, mouth whispering over the thin black silk that hid her pulse point from him. "Carnal warfare. The first to surrender loses. I'll even allow you a head start. You dictate how far each encounter goes."
"That's too kind of you."
"You're the one who said you were innocent," he pointed out. "It seems I have an unfair advantage."
His cock strained against the placket of his trousers. He'd said it to give himself the luxury of extending this chase between them—to give himself time to discover if his wife was innocent or dangerous. But the flex of his cock warned him: Adele was dangerous in more ways than one.
Because he wanted her.
Here.
Now.
And desire was possibly the only thing that could undo him.
"Innocent of pleasure, perhaps. Not of men's desires. Or their arrogance. I accept your deal. You were right," she said with a devilish smile. "You did make this worthwhile."
Then she set her hand against his chest and pushed insistently.
"But since I am in control of our game, it seems I must decline tonight's advances. Tonight you can go unfulfilled."
He trapped her hand there. "You don't accept my apology?"
"I'm fairly certain I didn't hear one."
Her smile glittered as brightly as the diamonds around her throat.
"'Til tomorrow then." Malloryn couldn't deny it wasn't disappointment that filled him, but interest.
He allowed her to escape.
"Dream of me," she whispered, backing away from the folly, lantern-light gleaming on her blue skirts. "All alone, wearing nothing more than my diamonds."
Why had he ever thought inexperience took away her edge?
"I will," he promised darkly.
And then she turned and dashed away through the gardens, glancing back over her shoulder, just once, to make sure he was watching.
Malloryn felt his weight shifting forward, the predator within him drawn to chase her. To capture her. To win. Adele's silvery laughter caught his ear as she read it on his face.
And then she was gone.
He crushed his fingers into a fist and forced himself to rein his darker urges in. Every part of that act had been choreographed to an inch, designed to intrigue him. And she'd succeeded. If they'd been dueling, then she had drawn first blood.
He could practically sense the jaws of her trap woven carefully around him. What a dangerous, dangerous woman.
He'd never been more convinced she was working for the enemy.
Chapter 6
Adele felt breathless as she clutched her skirts and dashed up the stairs back to the ballroom. An odd mix of victory, curiosity, and challenge filled her as she left her husband staring after her, and her cheeks ached from smiling so much.
For the first time since their wedding, she finally felt as though she held a little of the power between them.
And he'd given it to her.
Thoughts of Malloryn so distracted her that she hurried into the ballroom and slammed directly into a firm male body.
Hands caught her forearms and a husky laugh escaped her assailant. She was two seconds away from panicking when the scent of Devoncourt's familiar cologne caught her attention.
"If it isn't my favorite duchess," Lord Devoncourt mused, though his eyes flashed dark for a second, and he reached up to brush his thumb against her mouth.
Adele jerked her face away. "What are you doing here?"
Oh, God. If Malloryn followed her there'd be bloodshed.
She could still hear the chill in his voice when he cast that cursed photograph in her lap.
"This ends. Right now."
"When I saw your husband lure you into the gardens I thought all was lost, but here you are, rushing away from him as if you had the hounds of hell on your tail."