Page 11 of The Rogue’s Offer

“I shall accept your offer of introduction, and nothing more.” At her firmly worded reply, Mathias narrowed his gaze at her before he accepted her reply with a slight tilt of his head.

“I shall leave instructions with Sabine to receive you this afternoon. I have no doubt she’ll find something suitable for you to wear this evening when we attend the opera.”

“The opera,” she said with a grimace.

“You dislike Puccini?” Amusement glittered in his eyes as he arched an eyebrow at her.

“I can think of other things that are far more enjoyable.”

“As can I,” he murmured in a silky voice as a slight smile curved his lips. “However, if you’re to have the men of the Marlborough Set vying for your company, there will be times when putting aside your distaste for certain entertainments will endear you to the male sex.”

Ophelia eyed him with a wary expression then acquiesced with a sigh. A look of satisfaction on his face, he stood up, and before she could rise to her feet as well, he closed the space between them. Heat instantly enveloped her skin as he bent toward her. With great effort, Ophelia managed not to shrink back into the cushions of the small couch as he took her hand in his.

“Shall we practice?”

“Practice what?” she said in confusion as a small tremor spiraled through her at his close proximity and the warmth suffusing her hand.

“Make me believe you’ll enjoy attending the opera this evening.”

“But I won’t,” she said with a sniff of derision.

“I can see you intend to be a difficult student,” he said in a wry voice.

With a quick tug, he pulled her to her feet without letting go of her hand. The distance between them was mere inches, and Ophelia swallowed hard at the way her pulse was racing out of control. His forefinger tapped her mouth lightly.

“Now then, convince me you’re looking forward to attending the opera tonight, not because you like opera, but because you’ll be in my company.”

The stern look of a taskmaster darkened his face as he met her gaze. Ophelia frowned and shook her head slightly in puzzled contemplation. Flirtations came so easily to others, but she’d never developed a talent or taste for it. She bit down on her bottom lip and lowered her gaze.

“I’m looking forward to this evening, Mr. Gilchrist.”

“That sounds like a debutante fresh out of the schoolroom, Ophelia. Make me believe you’re a woman counting the hours until we see each other again this evening.”

The command made her stiffen, and she jerked her head up to glare at him. His reaction was to simply arch his eyebrows at her in an arrogant fashion. It signaled his belief he held the upper hand, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one bit. The man was supposed to be teaching her, not irritating her. Ophelia frowned as she tried to think of a way to level the playing field between them.

Out of all the thoughts careening through her head, one in particular pushed its way to the front. Honey. He’d said she should use honey when dealing with a suitor. It was a game she’d agreed to play, and suddenly it was important that she prove she would be a worthy pupil.

“I read once that Oscar Wilde believes there are only two tragedies in life, Mr. Gilchrist. One when we fail to get what we want, and the other is when we do.” She allowed a small smile to curve her lips as she looked up at him. “At long last, I’ve come to understand what he means.”

“I see,” he murmured as amusement darkened his green eyes. “And I trust you will enlighten me as to your revelation?”

“Anticipation.” She tipped her head to one side in an effort to appear as if she was considering a deep philosophical question

“Anticipation?” he chuckled.

“As you said last night, it can be quite…pleasurable.” A shiver skimmed its way down her spine as she breathed in the warm spicy male smell of him. “The more we long for something—ache for it, the more intense the pleasure. So I shall enjoy the anticipation between now and this evening.”

Without realizing she’d done so, Ophelia lowered her voice so that her final words were little more than a husky whisper. As their gazes locked, she saw a fire flare in his gaze. Slowly, he raised her hand and brushed his mouth across the tips of her fingers. A second later, he turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist.

The intimacy of the gesture tugged a sharp gasp from her as fire streaked through her body. Instinctively, she tried to tug free of his grasp. Mathias thwarted her effort, and she was certain his mouth deliberately lingered in retaliation for what she knew had been a provocative reply.

“Brava,” he said softly as he lifted his head. “That was enough to stir the blood in any able-bodied male. Perhaps a week would have been enough time to transform the swan.”

“Then we can—”

“I said perhaps, Ophelia. I’m not about to relinquish my claim on your time so easily.” The low laugh that parted his firm lips made her heart race even faster. Mathias released her and took a step back. “Until this evening, my lady.”

With a quick bow, he turned around and left her standing in the parlor staring after him.