Surrender The Heart

“A sporting chance of seducing you.” He spoke lightly and the smile that still played around his mouth was easy.

“What?” Ariane stopped so suddenly that her crinoline swayed like a boat in distress.

Her exclamation had the chatter around them stilling as all eyes turned toward them.

“You heard me.” Chris covered her hand, which still lay on his arm, with his and gave it a small tug. “Come along now and keep your voice down unless you want to create a scene.”

Skillfully, he navigated them through the crowd. Deciding to forgo refreshments, he guided her onto the gallery that ran around the main staircase. The moment he closed the door to the ballroom behind them, Ariane snatched her hand away from his arm and spun around to face him.

“How dare you?”

He leaned against the marble balustrade, which was richly veined in reddish brown and black, and crossed his ankles, the very picture of relaxed, self-confident masculinity.

“I thought you appreciated direct speech.” The corners of Chris’s mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. “Was my impression mistaken?”

“I do appreciate direct speech. But I do not appreciate indecent proposals”. She pushed away the uncomfortable suspicion that she sounded priggish.

“I didn’t ask you to become my mistress, Ariane,” he said softly, “although that thought has its own appeal. I asked for a sporting chance to seduce you. There is a world of difference between the two.” He allowed his mouth to curve fully. “If you like, I’ll explain it to you.”

“I’m not a child.”

“My thought exactly.”

“Don’t be coarse.” She glared at him. He looked so at ease, so sure of himself, and her insides felt like a mass of not-quite-settled aspic.

“I have no wish to entrap you. I have no intention of using flattery or wine to get you into my bed.” He leaned forward a little. “Look, it’s like a card game with two players doing their best with their skill—” he paused for a heartbeat “—and their luck.”

His wicked grin infuriated her. “I am not interested in your games.”

“Oh, but Ariane, they are such pleasant games.” His smile warmed. “You have just finished telling me that you are not looking for a husband. What good reason do you have then to deny yourself a little pleasure? Pleasure should be taken when it is offered. Life is too short for anything else.”

Damn him, she thought, he knew far too well just how attractive he was. His velvet voice alone was enough to conjure up all manner of delights.

Bracing herself against the impossible images that assaulted her, her voice was cold. “Your conceit is gargantuan. Pleasure, indeed. How do I know that it will be a pleasure?” She tilted up her chin, defying him, but even more defying her own terrible premonition that he spoke the truth.

“I guarantee it, comtesse.”

In one swift, supple movement he straightened, captured her hand and brought it to his lips.

“I guarantee it personally.”

She tried to free her hand, but Chris did not relinquish it. Instead, keeping his eyes on hers, he began to remove her glove—slowly tugging it off finger by finger, making as sensual a ritual of it as if he were divesting her of some intimate article of clothing.

Ariane forgot to breathe as he slipped the glove off and tossed it aside. Then he raised her hand again and pressed his mouth to the center of her palm.

Chapter Five (#ulink_cd036384-56f4-5d7e-84aa-e180d504d9e8)

Heat. That was all Ariane could think of as Chris’s mouth pressed against her palm, as his breath skimmed over her skin like a hot desert wind. When he touched the tip of his tongue to her hand, she jolted as if she had been burned. And, indeed, an unfamiliar ache swept through her like a firestorm.

“Don’t” Her voice was so low and smoky that she barely recognized it, and something resembling panic licked at her nerves.

“Don’t what?” Chris asked.

His lips shifted seductively over her skin as he spoke. She knew that she should pull her hand out of his grasp, but it was as if she had lost command over her body.

“Don’t do this,” she managed.

“This?” He traced the width of her palm with his tongue. “Or this?” Moving his mouth downward, he nipped at the fleshy pad beneath her thumb.

She managed to suppress the soft sound that rose in her throat, but she was helpless to prevent the sinuous curl of heat that spread through her to pool in her belly. The desire to close her eyes, to savor this new sensation was so strong that she almost gave in to it. But some last shred of wariness had her bracing against it.

Yet it was that very tension that had her fingers spreading and pressing against his cheek. The slight abrasiveness of his skin tempted her beyond measure, making her want to rub her fingertips against it to acquaint herself with this new texture.

“Go ahead,” Chris murmured, fascinated by her expressive eyes, which were able to conceal neither the curiosity nor the temptation. “It is not forbidden to touch.”

His words pulled her back from the sea of sensation where she had been foundering.

“Let me go.” The words that had been meant as a command came out sounding like a plea. Anger at her own weakness flared within her. Anger—and the traitorous desire to take the words back.

Slowly, his eyes on hers, he lowered her hand and released her.

Fighting an unreasonable sense of loss, Ariane grappled for the right words.

“Is this how your game of seduction is played?” Alarm, masked by indignation, colored her words.

“Would you care to be more specific?”

“Insidiously.” She filled her lungs with air in the vain attempt to soothe her raw nerves. “Unscrupulously.”

Even as she said the words, she understood that her accusation was excessive, but she was trembling. Trembling, damn it! And she had sworn long ago that she would tremble for no man.

“I played my hand with the cards a kind fate dealt me.” He shrugged, trying to rid himself of the sharp desire to feel her fingers on his skin again. “You are making me responsible for your own weakness.”

Ariane stared at him, appalled at his nonchalant words. How could he be so indifferent when he had turned her world and her vision of herself upside down with a few words and a touch?

Forcing herself to move, she paced a few steps away and linked her hands to steady them. A measure of self-control returned, reminding her that it was not her wont to blame others for her own mistakes.

Why was she having this absurd conversation? she asked herself harshly. What had possessed her to pick the most dangerous man she had ever seen for her scheme? Why had she not asked someone safe, someone like Roger de Monnier, or one of those baby-faced young men she had danced with?

But she hadn’t asked someone else, she reminded herself. She had asked the insolent, beautiful American. And she could not back away now, any more than she could have backed away from a wager or a card game simply because she had discovered too late that the odds were against her. Her pride would not allow it.

The turmoil in her eyes made Chris want to reach out and reassure her that he meant her no harm. Even though it occurred to him that his notion of harm was possibly very different from hers, he pushed away from the balustrade, his hand raised in a placating gesture. Before he could take more than a single step toward her, she whirled around to face him.

“Yes, my weakness. That is exactly the point, Monsieur Blanchard.” The fact that her voice was even, showing little sign of the agitation of a moment ago, settled her nerves still further. She was in control, she told herself. And she would stay in control. “You have challenged me to a game where you have an unfair advantage.”

The cool determination on her face made him wonder if he had imagined her confusion, her vulnerability a moment ago.

“If you think so,” he answered, “then perhaps we should lay down some rules.”