Her chin came up. "I am not like you," she stated coolly. "I am sensitive to his

feelings."

"Then why don't you marry him?" He didn't give her the chance to answer.

"Ah, yes. Because you intend to marry only for love."

She sent him an arch look. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Justin shrugged.

"I've heard it said that your brother married for love," she reminded him.

"But he didn't intend to. He set out in search of a bride who would fit his requisites for a

wife. He was simply lucky enough to find love in the process." Again he gave her no chance to respond. "But we stray from the subject. What I find difficult to believe is that you are capable of that tender emotion."

Her lips clamped shut. She was practically spitting, just itching to launch into a tirade.

Admittedly, he found the prospect rather intriguing.

He tipped his head to the side. "What are you thinking, Arabella?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Believe me," she stated with forced politeness, "you do not

wish to know."

"And if I said I did?"

"Gra.s.s before dawn," she said between her teeth. "Does that give you a

hint?"

"A duel," he drawled. "How delicious. Oh, but I should have known you'd be contemplating ways to attack."

And indeed, he decided with wry amus.e.m.e.nt, her glare left him in no doubt she was contemplating the

possibility. If she were a predator, he'd be gnawed to the bone.

"Forgive me, but did you not just claim to be a tenderhearted woman? My, but you certainly pulled the wool over Walter's eyes, didn't you?"

"My G.o.d," she gritted out, "if I had a pistol, I do believe I would shoot you on the

spot!"

"Ah. Clearly my charm is utterly lost on you."

"You have no charm."

"Arabella!" He affected shock. "What a thing to say to a gentleman!"

"You, sir, are no gentleman!"

Ye gads, but she was a hoyden! As impetuous and strong-willed as ever, he suspected. And yet their

encounter last night and tonight provided him the most entertainment he'd enjoyed in quite some time. He was enjoying her wit and their sparring - never mind that foolish, careless bet with Gideon. In the back of his mind, he made note to mention it the next time he saw him*

It was odd, but he felt suddenly buoyant. Alive as he hadn't in longer than he could remember.

"It's a good thing you declined poor Walter," he said smoothly.

"It's clear he's simply not up to the rapier slice of your tongue. But I promise, you'll find me a worthy opponent."

Her eyes narrowed. "What the devil is that supposed to mean? And why are you smiling in that

wolfish way, as if there's something you know that I don't?"

She was nothing if not forthright, he decided. "I don't know. Certainly it can't be the company."

"I shall ignore that," she announced. "Now, then. I should like to discuss the matter

of your spying on me -"

"I was not spying. I thought we established that."

"We did not. But may I trust you will not disclose the nature of what you overheard?"

"Why?"

"Because I abhor gossip, that's why."

He arched his brows. "You mean you don't relish your reign as The

Unattainable?"

"I do not," she muttered. "And if anyone else calls me by that horrid name againtoday, I swear I shall scream."His mouth quirked. "That should help to discourage gossip."Her eyes found his. "Do I have your a.s.surance you will say nothing?" she demanded."Well," he murmured, "I might be persuaded.""For what?"A kiss, he almost said. Indeed, it was only at the last instant he quelled the unexpected impulse.He was all at once vastly annoyed with himself. A kiss with Miss Arabella Templeton*how the blazes had his mind conjured up something so preposterous?

It was a startling admission, considering she was the most vexing female he'd ever had the misfortune to encounter. Yet on second thought, perhaps it was neither startling nor preposterous.

His gaze had drifted down to her lips. She had a mouth given to laughter, he decided. A mouth fashioned purely for a man's pleasure, full and lush and pink like the rest of her. He'd already mentally approved her choice of gown - the b.u.t.tery yellow made her skin glow.

He found the prospect of kissing her - G.o.d, what was the matter with him? - provocative, at the least. In her zeal, she'd moved closer. That wasn't helping matters. Nor did the earnestness of her regard. She was staring up at him intently, awaiting his answer, her lips parted, offering a glimpse of small white teeth. Christ, he wondered crazily, what would she taste like?

"You haven't answered me. You won't tell, will you?"

Wicked. That's what he was. Wicked to even think what he was thinking*

The music had commenced. Hearing it, he c.o.c.ked a brow. "Dance with me," was all he said, "and I shall consider it."

And he whisked her onto the dance floor.

Five.

They wheeled so suddenly she clutched at his shoulder. "Justin!" His name was a sound of pure dismay. Belatedly it occurred to her she'd just called him by his given name. "What are you doing?"

"I should have thought it would be obvious."

They whirled past the Misses Wilmington, Abigail and Lucinda, who regarded him with open admiration.

Justin inclined his head and directed a devastating smile at the pair. Abigail t.i.ttered behind her fan, while Lucinda openly batted her eyelashes at him.

Arabella's jaw snapped shut. "Did no one ever tell you it is the height of bad manners to

dance with one woman while making eyes at another?"

"Jealous, are we?"

"In a pig's eye!"

He threw back his head and laughed. "Arabella, you are truly a delight."

He didn't mean it, of course. Indeed, she was well aware he meant the complete opposite.

"I've not forgiven you, you know," she told him stoutly.

"For what?"

She bared her teeth.

A heavy black brow climbed high. "My dear, is something wrong? Do you worry there is perhaps

a bit of basil left from the cream sauce at dinner? Set your mind at ease, then. There is none." Arabella longed to screech at the top of her lungs. She was forced to settle for a whisper. "This is revenge, isn't it? Your way of getting back at me for the prank I played on you as a child."

"My word, but you are suspicious! Why would you possibly think that?"

"Because I should have thought you would avoid me like the plague."

"Why would I avoid you? That would imply I am afraid of you."

"And you, of course, fear nothing, least of all a mere woman."

Their eyes caught. Within his, glimmered a spark of something*something she couldn't quite decipher. She knew only that whatever it was, she didn't trust it.

"Must you stare at me?"

"I'm sorry," he said smoothly. "I didn't mean to. It's just that I never before noticed your freckles."

No doubt he was comparing her to the elegant sophisticates with whom he usually a.s.sociated. But Arabella had never hated her freckles more than she did at that moment. When she was a child, she'd scrubbed until her skin was raw. When she was older, she'd prodigiously applied Gowland's Lotion each and every night. Nothing had worked.