All the Ways to Ruin a Rogue (The Debutante Files #2)(11)

“Much could be applied to your person, Lady Aurelia . . . but dull would not be an apt description. The words I would choose to describe you would not do to be uttered aloud in polite society.”

“Ah, you flatter,” she murmured, well aware that he did not mean to compliment her. Indeed not. She shoved aside the sting of his words and forced a bright smile on her face, knowing that her good cheer in the face of his jibes always irritated him, and irritating him was the only way she could hope to affect him. The only way at all.





Chapter 3

Flattery was not in his intention. Indeed not. Whenever Max spotted Aurelia, the skin at the back of his neck pulled tight and prickled as though crawling with ants. Ever since Sodom when she had divested him of his clothes, things felt decidedly unfinished between them. They danced about each other, striking and swiping. Engaging in brief skirmishes and then retreating. It all felt as though it were leading to something.

He was rather accustomed to females chasing him. He usually let himself be caught. He’d made an occupation of it actually. After all, who was he to deny a lady?

And yet this was not the same game. Aurelia was different. She did not chase him. Ever. She wasn’t after a romp between the sheets. He grimaced. The notion of that was too appalling to even consider. She could not abide him and he could not abide her. He wanted to provoke her. Needle her. Antagonize her. Shake her up so that she didn’t bestow one of her cold, unaffected smiles on him.

He gestured at her. “What could possibly be more fascinating than an evening in your scintillating company?”

Her brown eyes glinted with suppressed emotion. Those eyes had not changed since she was a child. The same could not be said for the rest of her though. Gone was the blushing, awkward girl. In her place was a bold chit with curves abundant. Some might even assert she was on the plump side. The confection of ruffles and ribbons she wore did nothing to improve her form. Indeed, her ruffled and beribboned gowns made it difficult to detect if she even possessed a waist. Except he knew she did. He’d seen it for himself a year ago at Sodom. It was something he had tried forgetting. The image of her in that scandalous gown with her breasts practically spilling out of the bodice. Her small waist and generous hips and deliciously rounded bottom had all been on display.

“Oh, I’m certain there is a lady somewhere in this Town enticing enough to lure you from my company,” she countered.

He blinked and smiled slowly. “You underestimate yourself.”

She eyed him warily. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

“Why? Am I succeeding?”

“Of course not. You give yourself far too much credit, I fear.”

Meaning he did not deserve a reaction. He felt a flash of anger.

Her gaze darted across the room. “Please. Cease scowling.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why?”

“Please smile. At least for appearance’s sake. I prefer no lecture from Mama this evening because we did not rub along well together.”

“My apologies. I don’t feel like pretense this evening.” He lifted his glass to her in mock salute before taking a slow drink. “I’ve had quite enough of it these many years.”

She shook her head and started to move away, but then stopped. Her chest heaved slightly and he knew he had affected her. He felt a rush of triumph as she glared at him with gleaming eyes. “I’ve explained to Mama that you’re a big boy now. You feed yourself and everything. But for some reason, she thinks you cannot handle yourself and require coddling and protection from me.” She smirked. “We know that’s not true, don’t we?”

“I’ve a tough hide,” he agreed tightly, shoving aside the memory of when she had eviscerated him with a simple drawing. He avoided her gaze and scanned the room, tension tightening his jaw. What was it about her that made him feel as though he were about to come out of his skin? The sensation had only worsened since the incident at Sodom.

“Indeed,” she murmured, her false smile fixed in place for the sake of her onlooking Mama.

“This is an intimate gathering tonight,” he remarked, adjusting his stance. At the idleness of his tone, she shifted on her feet and moistened her lips, her brown eyes watching him warily. “No swains of your own to include in the group?” he added with a tsk of his tongue. “Usually your mother makes certain you have a few prospects in attendance. Whatever is the matter, Aurelia? Scare them all away?”

She hissed out a slow breath, as if battling for control. “Some of us have discriminating tastes.”

“ ‘Some’ of us,” he rejoined, lowering his mouth to the rim of his glass, “are about as appealing as a rabid monkey.” Her eyes flared and then narrowed at the bold insult. He continued, knowing he was close. She was about to snap. “Have you considered hanging a rope of garlic about your neck? That might improve your allure.”

Her smile finally, at last, fled. Hot color suffused her cheeks. Her arms dropped stiffly to her sides, hands curling into fists. “Unlike you, my self-worth does not revolve around how many conquests I can make.”

He chuckled, feeling very much like he had just won a skirmish. “The last I heard, you have no conquests. Pity.” He leaned down close to her ear as though to impart something of great importance. His warm breath fanned her neck and he did not miss the small shiver that rolled through her. Nor did he miss the faint waft of bergamot that seemed to rise up off her skin. Would she taste of bergamot, too? The thought only flared his ire. He did not care what the hellion tasted like. “Might I suggest you cease being such a brat? That might improve your chances.” He stepped closer. Perhaps unseemly so. He did not care. “Perhaps you should cease your inappropriate pursuits.”