“Do you actually assume that you’re different?” he asked. “Would you ignore the chance to enjoy an amour if it came winging in your direction?”
“I have big dreams, and they don’t include a tedious marriage to a country dolt.”
Blake gave a mock shudder. “Yes, that sounds like a fate worse than death.”
“I shall move to London and have my own apartment. I’ll be acclaimed as a gracious hostess, and every night, I’ll have supper parties that will be attended by the most interesting people in the land.”
It was a sweet idea, but he supposed—before too many more months had passed—her father would announce that he’d selected a fiancé for her. She wouldn’t have a choice in the matter, and the prospect made him sad.
He was glad he wasn’t a female.
She gestured to the manor. “Why don’t you head back? I’m sitting out here because I’m thinking and plotting, and I can’t have you distracting me.”
“Am I distracting you?”
“You know you are. Don’t pretend.”
“I hate your gown and the severe way you’ve pinned your hair.”
“Why would I care about that? Haven’t you been listening? I’m not trying to entice you. If you notice a single one of my stellar traits, I should like it to be my brilliant mind.”
“I’ve never liked smart women—they’re too bossy—so I don’t view feminine intellect as much of a benefit. You’re a beautiful girl. It’s such a waste that you’re working so hard to be plain and ordinary.”
“Real beauty is found on the inside.”
He scowled at her. “Did you read that in a book somewhere?”
“What if I did? The fact that I read it doesn’t make it any less true.”
“I especially hate women who read. When a female constantly sticks her nose in a book, she grows too domineering. A man like me can end up totally emasculated.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are positively deranged, and I can’t fathom why I’m talking to you. You have nothing to say that’s worth hearing. Would you please go away?”
He knew more about women than he probably should. They chased him relentlessly, hoping he’d catch them, and Miss Grey looked absolutely miserable. She was brimming with odd notions, and he couldn’t imagine why her father had allowed her to develop such radical leanings.
If Blake had had a daughter, he’d have been a little more cautious about the reading material brought into the house.
He wondered how much of her diatribe she believed deep down. If a handsome swain swept her off her feet, wouldn’t she succumb? Should he test that theory? She claimed to be modern and independent, but he figured—if push came to shove—she’d jump in with both feet.
Should he give her the opportunity? If he could tantalize her, wouldn’t he be doing her a favor? She needed to be shown that a passionate relationship could be very satisfying. Shouldn’t he prevent her from making idiotic choices that couldn’t be reversed?
“You’re not serious,” he said. “You wax on exhaustively, but I predict—if the right fellow seduced you—you wouldn’t be able to resist. You’ve let a bunch of aged old crones indoctrinate you with nonsense.”
“For your information, the authors I idolize have all been wed, so they’re experts at what they’re writing about. They’re wives, not spinsters, but so what if they were spinsters? It’s not a crime.”
He shifted nearer, using his male body to ease her into the bench. She really was pretty, and it was too bad she was so silly. If he dallied with her, she’d likely talk him to death.
“Let’s bet, Miss Grey.”
“I’m not my brother. I don’t gamble.”
“May I call you Janet?” She frowned, as if it was a trick question, and he said, “You can call me Blake. We’ll be on familiar terms.”
“I’d rather not be.”
“Call me Blake. You know you want to.”
“You’re such a bully.”
“I definitely can be. Now about that bet. . .”
“We’re not wagering!”
He rested a hand on her waist, and he couldn’t help but note that she didn’t pull away and order him to stop being so forward.
“If I begin flirting with you in a dedicated manner,” he told her, “you’ll be delighted by my attention. You’ll revel in it.”
“I would never capitulate in my convictions. I’m too adamant, so you could never persuade me. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
He leaned even nearer, his lips a hairsbreadth from her own. “What shall we declare to be the prize? If I win, what will you give me?”
She tsked with annoyance. “You’re being absurd.”
“Am I?”
He closed the distance between them and kissed her. It was a quick brush of his mouth to hers. Then he drew away.
They stared, both a tad startled. She—because she hadn’t expected him to be so brazen. He—because it had been much more delicious than he’d anticipated.
Perhaps Miss Janet Grey had a few hidden depths!
She regrouped, her tone scolding. “You can’t just bluster up and kiss me!”
“It’s how adults behave, Janet. Didn’t you know that? If you didn’t, maybe you shouldn’t have developed such strong opinions about men and romance.”
“I didn’t like it!” she claimed.
He laughed. “You little liar. You’re all aflutter, wondering if I might do it again, and I will do it again. I promise. I’ll wait until you’re not looking, so it can be a surprise.”
He stood and gazed down at her, and she appeared young and a bit lost.
“How old are you, Janet?” he asked.
“Twenty. Why?”
“Was that your first kiss?”
There was enough light to see that her cheeks heated. “No! I’ve been kissed dozens of times.”
“Well, then. . . good. It means you’ve learned how.”
He bent down, and he hovered an inch away. There was gladness in her expression, but excitement and nerves too, which was humorous to observe. She was completely off balance.
“Goodnight, Janet,” he whispered, then he straightened and walked away.
He headed toward the manor, and he counted the steps he took—four—until she couldn’t stand it and called to him.
“Ensign Ralston! Why did you do it? Why did you kiss me?”
He halted and glanced at her. “I did it because I knew you’d
