"In that case, I'm so glad you approve-Edward."

He laughed, his midnight blue eyes gleaming in a way she ought not find attractive. She shouldn't find the rest of him so attractive either, especially not when she was annoyed and disappointed that her latest attempt to free herself from their engagement had met with such disaster. But happy, sad or vexed, nothing changed the fact that Edward Byron was one undeniably gorgeous man. Particularly when he smiled as he was doing now, tiny lines fanning near his eyes, the seductive hint of a dimple creasing his cheek in a way that begged to be touched. Or kissed.

Her fingers curled against the fabric of her skirt.

Still smiling, he raised his hand and waggled a pair of fingers in a circular motion. "Let's see it all."

"All what?"

"The dress. Spin around so I can take in the full effect."

"Your Grace!"

He raised a brow.

"Edward," she amended. "That is a highly improper suggestion."

"It's equally improper that we're alone in your bedchamber, as you already pointed out. Come along, let's see what Madame has created."

She shot him a mutinous look, but his expression didn't change not by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. Her nerve endings prickled, flutters dancing in her stomach at the idea of displaying herself to him. Swallowing with a self-consciousness she rarely felt, she turned around as rapidly as her feet would take her.

"That was much too fast." He crossed his arms. "Do it again."

"Again!"

"Only slower this time so I can appreciate the view. Of the gown, of course."

"Oh, of course."

And that's when she realized that he was having a tiny bit of revenge after all. He might not bluster and bully like her father. Instead, he found other, far more insidious ways to wring a penance out of his victims. She was surprised his siblings didn't live in more abject fear of him than they did. But as she'd witnessed firsthand, they all seemed to adore him.

As do I, she thought, much to my supreme regret.

Exhaling in silent resignation, she held her arms out at her sides, then turned in a steady circle, one slow step at a time. After a full revolution, she stopped, facing him. "There," she said. "Satisfied?"

A light flickered deep in his eyes, one she wasn't quite certain how to interpret. "Madame's work is lovely," he said in a low tone. "As is the wearer of her design. You shall do me proud, Claire. Every man in Town will be throwing himself at your feet this Season."

Every man but you.

Glancing away, she lowered her arms to her sides. "Yes, well, if that is all, Your Gr-Edward, I believe I should ring for one of the maids so they can set the room aright. As you've already noted, there are a great many gowns to be unpacked and hung in the armoires."

"So there are," he agreed. "But first there is one more detail you appear to have overlooked."

Her brows drew tight on her forehead. "What detail?"

"I'm sure it has simply slipped your mind, but you have yet to thank me. I believe the purchase of more than a hundred and fifty gowns deserves some show of gratitude."

She laid a hand on her chest. "Oh, stars, you're right! How remiss of me not to have said anything earlier. Amid all the talk, thanking you did slip my mind. Pray forgive me for not conveying my sincere appreciation from the very start."

"That's quite all right," he said with a negligent shrug. "Although if you wish to make it up to me, there is something you could do."

"Yes, of course, you have only to ask."

"Do I?" he mused aloud, crossing the distance between them so that he stood barely inches away. "I am glad to hear it. You won't mind expressing your gratitude with a kiss then, will you?"

Her heart leapt, crashing so hard inside her chest that she felt the thump under her hand. Only in that instant did she understand the trap into which she'd fallen and recognize the bait he'd laid out like sweetmeats arranged on a tray.

Oh, he's sly. And dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

Neatly caught, she knew there was no way around it, short of ordering him from her room. And given the circumstances, she didn't think he would simply obey. He was a duke, after all, and used to giving commands, not taking them. If only there was some way she could push him out, she might have tried, but he outweighed her by half a dozen stone at least. Moving him would be like trying to dislodge a tree. And he knew it. She could see it on his face.

Drawing a breath, she linked her hands together. "Very well. You may kiss me."

His mouth curved in an amused little smile. "Oh, I didn't say I wanted to kiss you. I want you to kiss me. You are expressing your thanks, after all."

Her jaw dropped, nerves bouncing like tiny springs in her stomach.

He isn't just dangerous, she thought, he is wicked too.

"I'm waiting," he said, bending his head slightly to compensate for the difference in their heights.

Without giving herself more time to consider, she lifted up on her toes and touched her mouth to his cheek with a hasty brush of her lips. "There," she declared. "Your kiss."

He turned a derisive eye upon her. "That wasn't a kiss. That was a dry-as-dust peck, the sort I might expect from one of my elderly aunts arrived for a holiday visit. Come now, you can do better than that." Moving even closer, he took her hands and laid them on his chest. "Go on, Claire," he encouraged in a husky voice. "Give it another try. After all, it's only a kiss."

Only a kiss.

Maybe for him, but to her it was so much more. And yet the need was there, the impulse to touch him again and find out if the experience was as heady and wonderful as she remembered. She shouldn't. She was ten times a fool for even considering such a thing, when she should simply tell him no and step away.

But he was like forbidden fruit. Ripe, delicious and tantalizingly within reach. Was this how Eve had felt when she'd gazed at that apple? No wonder the poor girl had succumbed to the serpent.

Leaning up again, she gazed into Edward's eyes for a long moment, then slowly touched her mouth to his.

Chapter 8.

Edward didn't know why he'd started this lunacy of playing kissing games with Claire. But considering her antics over her trousseau, he hadn't been able to resist teasing and tormenting her just the tiniest bit, barely able to contain his amusement as she'd grown round-eyed at his suggested method of thanking him.

He had to admit she looked adorable in her pretty lavender dress, as bright and fresh as a new spring day and every bit as lovely. Despite knowing he should bid her adieu and return to work in his study, he'd found himself lingering, unwilling to let her off the hook without at least a token measure of retribution.

Not that he really minded the expense, since to be blunt, he was rich and could well afford the extravagance. As he'd told her, he had far more liberally minded views on spending money than her father. And yet he sensed there was a great deal more to this excessive dress-buying business than met the eye. Particularly since her father was such a nip cheese and she'd obviously been anticipating an explosive reaction on his own part.

What he wanted to know was why? It was almost as if she'd wanted him to be angry, as though she'd deliberately purchased an outrageous number of dresses just to irritate him.

He'd nearly questioned her on the subject, but decided that he would let the matter go for now. She was still settling in here in London, still getting used to her new situation and status as his fiancee. Perhaps she was simply testing her boundaries and stretching her new wings, as she boldly explored what she could and could not do as his duchess-to-be.

Then again, perhaps she'd simply wanted to get his attention, since he had to admit he had been distracted of late with this Everett matter and hadn't devoted as much time to her as he'd originally promised.

Well, if gaining my attention is her goal, he thought, as he clasped her little palms against his chest, she has it now!

The question was, would she take his dare or refuse? Would she give him a real kiss and not another sexless peck on the cheek? He supposed he was asking a lot of Claire given her innocence. But a man could hope, he decided, his senses alert and ready for whatever she decided to do.

Without any further warning on her part, she arched up on her toes again and touched her mouth to his. Satiny soft and tender as rose petals, her lips pressed against his own with a guileless determination that made him want to smile. He remained still, giving her time to explore, despite the fact that her efforts were tentative and unsure. Trembling, she pressed harder, sliding her closed mouth over his in a way that was decidedly pleasurable, yet uninspiring all the same.

On a small gasp, she drew away, her sweet breath stealing over his senses with a fragrant warmth that made him want to pull her back. Instead, he remained motionless.

"Was that better?" she asked on a near whisper.

He smiled. "Better, yes, but you could do with a little more practice. Why do you not try again."

Her eyelashes fluttered, her gaze growing faintly lambent. "Again?"

"Exactly," he confirmed, careful to keep her hands trapped beneath his own. "And relax this time. Let your lips and jaw loosen up a bit. After all, it's a kiss not a competition."

Her gaze locked with his, her hesitation plain, as though she were battling some inner demon. For a moment, he thought she was going to retreat, but then she gave a small sigh and leaned toward him again. "All right," she murmured, "but only one more."

"Only one," he repeated. "If that is what you wish."

Seemingly relieved by his response, she leaned up, then joined her mouth with his. Her eyelids slid closed, concentrating as though she were determined to prove herself this time.

He could have taken control of the embrace. Could have kissed her back with an intensity that would have moved things along quite nicely. But he decided to wait a little more, wanting to know what she would do and how far she might be willing to push the embrace.

Having obviously taken his instructions to heart, she parted her lips and moved them against his with a gentle caressing action that set his senses abuzz. Tipping her head one way, then the other, she deepened the kiss, testing each angle as though searching for exactly the right fit.

And suddenly she found it, using the most sublime combination of friction and finesse to send his senses winging skyward. His pulse raced faster, his thoughts growing lazy and slow as she drew him deeper into her spell.

Throwing off the yoke of restraint he'd kept around himself, he drew her hands upward and looped them around his neck. As soon as her fingers curved against the back of his cravat, he slid his arms down and around to clasp her body snugly to his.

She shivered and kissed him harder, finding the honeyed spot again that made him groan with pleasure. She whimpered in response, opening her mouth a little wider as she increased the range of her exploration.

Then, without so much as a hint of her intentions, she drew the warm, wet tip of her tongue against his bottom lip. He shuddered and pulled away, staring into her bemused gaze.

"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked on a husky demand.

She blinked, eyelashes fluttering as though he'd asked her to solve a rather perplexing riddle. Her fair brows drew together with concentration. "Fr-From you. Last time." Pausing, she met his gaze. "D-Didn't you like it?"

His arms tightened around her waist. "Of course I liked it. Do it again and don't be shy."

With an agreeable nod, she slid her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, then claimed his mouth again. Her kiss was long and slow and utterly delicious. He was beginning to wonder if she'd let nerves talk her out of making a second attempt at the rest, when her tongue eased out and trailed like hot velvet across his lower lip once again.

He shivered and intensified the kiss, mirroring her last move with a slow, gliding lick of his own. Her mouth parted on a pleasured gasp, granting him the opportunity to press his advantage. Unable to resist her unwitting invitation, he eased his tongue inside, reveling in the sweet suction as he began teaching her an entirely new set of skills.

To his gratification, she caught on quickly, following his lead as their kisses grew more ardent and intimate, wilder and increasingly more perilous as the passion spiked higher between them.

He couldn't help but think about the fact that her bed stood only a few feet distant. A couple of strategic steps and he could have her off her feet and on her back before she even realized what he was doing. He could tumble her amid her trousseau, stripping off her pretty new gown while he played with her among the silks and satins.

But I can't, he thought on a near groan. Not only would he be taking unfair advantage of her inexperience, he would be stealing her innocence at the same time. She was a virgin and his bride-to-be. She deserved a proper wedding night, not a hasty, impromptu fling on the guestroom bed.

Besides, he'd promised her time. Time to settle into her new life. Time to get used to the idea of marrying him. Time for the two of them to learn more about each other and find common interests, and even friendship, if they were lucky.

And here he was on the verge of tupping her like some doxy.

Good Lord, now that a few drops of blood were leaking back into his brain, he remembered that her door wasn't even closed. Meaning that anyone could walk in-her maidservant, even Mallory. The thought hit him like a bucketful of cold water, desire falling away as quickly as it had come.

Breaking their kiss, he reached up to unlock her arms from around his neck. She swayed, her eyelids opening with obvious confusion. Rather than let her fall, he caught her, but kept his embrace loose and impersonal.

"Edward?" she murmured. "Wh-What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," he told her in as even a tone as he could manage. "It's just time that we stopped."

"Oh, I see." But it was obvious that she didn't see, too caught up in their kisses to even realize how fast matters had been progressing between them.

Reminded again of her innocence, he knew he'd been right to stop, even if his body was still complaining about the matter.

"I had best be going," he said. "Hughes is probably pacing a hole in my office carpet right now, wondering where I've disappeared to."

"O-Of course." She clutched his arms for a moment to steady herself, then straightened and stepped away. "Don't let me keep you. I'm sure I have taken up a great deal more of your time today than you ever envisioned."

"Not at all. Our encounter has been quite enlightening. Thank you for the..." He paused, searching for the right words, but finding none that came easily to mind. "Well, thank you for the thank-you. It was most enjoyable."

Color crept like a budding sunrise into her cheeks. "And thank you for the new wardrobe, Your...Edward. It was most generous of you to provide."

Her remark ought to have pleased him. Instead, he found himself disturbed by the tenor of the conversation. Suddenly it was as though they were discussing a business transaction instead of a gift between bridegroom and bride. It was as if she'd kissed him not for pleasure, but as payment. And considering everything that had passed between them, perhaps she had. Their engagement was based on convenience and duty. Was her passion as much about obligation as it was about real desire?

He scowled, not liking the thought at all. "I shall leave you now so that you may ring for your maid."

She hesitated as though she might say something more, then inclined her head instead.

Executing a neat bow, he turned and left the room.

Claire waited until she couldn't hear Edward's footsteps anymore before she crossed the room and closed the door.

Shutting her eyes, she leaned back against the door's thick, polished wood surface and wondered how everything had gone so topsy-turvy. Not only had her plan failed-again-but she'd found herself lured for a second time into Edward's devastating embrace.

She trembled, remembering their heated kisses, her lips throbbing even now to recall the delirious pleasure of joining her mouth with his. When he'd asked her to thank him with a kiss, she'd been startled, but intrigued, tempted beyond her ability to resist. Unsure at first, she hadn't known exactly how to proceed. But then he'd coaxed her into trying it again and zounds, what bliss! What delight!

Curling a fist against the flutters in her stomach, she pushed away from the door and went across to her bed. Finding a spot that wasn't covered in her new gowns, she sank down with a sigh.

As wonderful as Edward's touch was, giving in to the impulse to kiss him had been a dreadful mistake. He'd had only to crook his little finger and she'd turned as gooey as a dish of warm toffee, melting against him as she practically begged for his regard. Her behavior was so pitiable she nearly disgusted herself, she was so weak-willed and compliant.

Was she so desperate for his attention that she was willing to cast aside her resolve in order to partake of a few crumbs? Was she so pathetic that she was ready to turn into that silly, stupid girl who'd once hung on his every word and worshipped the very ground on which he walked? If she wasn't careful, she could see herself turning back into the wretched creature of five years before, willing to do anything for even a hint of his affection.

Not that she was deluded enough to imagine that what had passed between her and Edward had anything to do with affection. After all, he'd invited her kisses out of a kind of teasing retribution. Who knew why he'd decided to continue the embrace.