Page 10 of The Rogue’s Offer

“Last night you challenged me to teach you how to feel passion and how to arouse it in a man.” The blunt statement took her by surprise, and she gasped.

“That was a mistake.” Her tea cup rattled violently on its saucer as she set it down on the table with a small clatter.

“No. Your mistake is that you believe your husband’s lies.” Mathias slowly leaned forward in his chair. The intensity of his green-eyed gaze hypnotized her as he studied her as though she were a butterfly on an entomologist’s board. “Tell me, Ophelia, despite my abysmal behavior, did you do as I told you when you were alone in your bedroom last night?”

“No, I did not,” she gasped.

Hot color flooded Ophelia’s cheeks as she quickly denied the truth. She had done as he instructed, and it had been the most hedonistic thing she’d ever done in her life. Not because she’d never touched herself before in the privacy of her own bed, but because she’d done as he’d ordered. She’d imagined he was with her. Touching her—caressing her. Her heart thudded a fast beat in her breast as she tried to school her expression into one of serene denial. A small smile tilted his lips, and her mouth went dry at the way he was looking at her.

“Why do I think you’re lying?”

“You may think what you like,” she huffed as she regained some of her composure and tipped her chin slightly upward in haughty manner

“Then let me tell you what I think. I believe you long to feel passion, Ophelia. Your husband was wrong, and I would like to prove it to you.”

Mathias’s words made her draw in a sharp breath of surprise. How could he possibly know what she’d only just acknowledged last night in the dark? It had been scandalous enough to offer herself in exchange for Marymont, but to consider his current proposition was reckless.

But she couldn’t deny the way her body had reacted when his mouth had briefly caressed hers or the wild imaginings that had filled her dreams. Now, as she considered his suggestion, she found herself wavering between dismay, alarm, and an excitement that sent her pulse skittering along at a frantic pace.

“Are you suggesting…we have a…liaison?” she stammered.

“More a student teacher relationship. Allow me to prove Havenstock knew nothing about women, especially his wife.”

“I don’t…”

“Fear, Ophelia?” The mockery in his voice angered her.

“I am not afraid of you,” she snapped. She narrowed her eyes at him as she stiffened and straightened in her seat.

“Then let me transform you into a swan every man in London will be willing to come to blows over.”

The comment made her stare at him in surprise for a moment before she laughed. Her feet were firmly rooted on the ground when it came to her effect on men. Even if George had not convinced her of her inability to incite a man’s passion, she had never been under the illusion that she was anything more than passably attractive.

“It is highly unlikely any man would be willing to fight over me,” she said as she eyed him with amusement. An odd expression crossed his features before a sinfully wicked smile curved his firm lips.

“As your tutor, I’ll show you just how likely such a possibility is,” he said. Mathias leaned forward, and the look on his face was that of a man not about to accept no for an answer. “Unless of course, it’s not me you’re afraid of, but yourself.”

“The only thing I’ve ever been afraid of is losing my home, Mr. Gilchrist,” she said with irritation.

“Then say yes.”

“Very well, I agree to be your student for one week.” Exasperated by his persistence she agreed to his proposal with an abrupt nod.

“No, that’s hardly enough time,” Mathias shook his head. “I can work miracles, but not in a week. I shall require at least a month.”

”A month then,” she murmured in agreement. The look of triumph that crossed his handsome features immediately stirred trepidation inside her, but he didn’t give her the opportunity to retract her acquiescence.

“If you are to learn the art of seduction, you need to arm yourself accordingly, and the first place to start is your wardrobe.” Mathias waved his hand at her gown in a dismissive manner. “I believe the answer to that problem is a visit to Sabine Marchand’s shop.”

“Madame Sabine?” Ophelia gasped with a shake of her head. “My finances do not allow me to even enter her dress shop.”

“Sabine is a personal friend. I will ask her to give you every consideration where you’re concerned,” he replied. As Mathias’s gaze flitted around the room, she straightened her back.

“If you think I will allow you—I did not agree to be your mistress.”

“Lesson number one, Ophelia,” he murmured. “Be agreeable. Use honey when dealing with the opposite sex. You need not surrender your independence, but if you must protest, do so in a manner that assures the gentleman in question understands you’re grateful for his thoughtfulness. As I said, Sabine is a friend.”

Ophelia studied him for a long moment, debating whether she’d made a terrible mistake. Of course, she’d made a mistake. Mathias Gilchrist was a man used to getting his way. She’d already allowed him to persuade her to engage in this madcap adventure. He arched his eyebrows at her, and she winced at her inability to retract her agreement. Doing so would make her look like a coward, and she was anything but that. Liar. A small voice whispered the accusation in her head.