Page 65 of Why Do Rogues Fall in Love?

“Why ever not?”

“Because you know perfectly well what effect they have upon me.”

His smile deepened. “Do I?”

Cordelia gave him a reproachful look.

“Then I must confess to being a very selfish fellow, for I find myself wanting to discover just how much more I might make you blush.”

Her lips parted, but no words emerged.

He glanced at her mouth again, and the expression that crossed his face was so openly appreciative that she felt a strange, melting sensation low in her belly.

For one reckless instant, she wondered whether he meant to kiss her.

Worse, she wondered what she might do if he did.

“I never imagined you would come here,” he said at last, his voice gentling. “Genteel ladies of quality do not often frequent this establishment.”

There was something in his tone that suggested he knew of exceptions. Cordelia lifted her chin.

“My mother taught me that one must adopt different manners for different company. I behave as a well-bred lady before true gentlemen. But before a rogue?” A faint, daring smile touched her lips. “How could I not allow myself to be a little wicked, perhaps even a little rude, so that you understand I am not a woman prone to fainting spells, but a formidable one?”

George laughed, the rich, warm sound doing the most extraordinary things to her composure.

“A formidable woman, indeed. And one who has apparently decided that the surest way to humble a rogue is to follow him into Aphrodite’s Gallery of Forbidden Pleasures.”

“I did not know you would be here.”

“No?” His brows lifted. “Then I suppose you wandered into this rather scandalous gallery quite by accident, bearing refreshments and wearing that enchanting contrivance upon your face.”

She flushed, knowing she had been thoroughly routed. “You are enjoying this far too much.”

“Immensely, Cori. I have not been so thoroughly entertained in weeks.”

His gaze traveled briefly to the feathered mask before returning to her eyes.

“Since you are feeling so formidable this evening, might you care for a proper view of the paintings?”

Oh God.

“What paintings?” Cordelia asked, far too mortified to confess how long she had studied several of them.

George’s smile turned positively wicked. “Come now, my sweet. I watched you lift your hand to your mouth as you looked them over. I even heard that sweet little sound you made when you reached the third painting.”

Her stomach fluttered. “What sound?” she demanded, mortified fury flaring. “I made no such…”

“Oh, but you did.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “A rather lovely little gasp. I confess it made me exceedingly curious about what had so captured your attention.”

“I was merely appreciating the artistry!”

“Of course.”

“I was!”

“I do not doubt it for a moment.” He leaned a fraction closer, his smile deepening into something wicked. “Though I must confess, Cori, that sweet, breathless little sound you made was enough to rouse a man’s ardor. I have been imagining what it might be like to hear it again, perhaps when I am the one giving you such pleasure.”

Her mouth fell open. “You are utterly incorrigible!”