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her. “You a-arrogant . . .” she stammered, searching for a word foul enough.
    “It’s true. We would be good together. Can’t you feel it?” He cocked his head and motioned between them. “It’s not like this with everyone.”
    “Oh, here we go again. I’m something extraordinary . . . you and I share something special.” She laughed with a roll of her eyes. “What rot.”
    He lifted his hand so suddenly that she flinched. He waved his fingers slightly as though to prove he was harmless. She silently berated herself for being so skittish.
    Those fingers landed on a loose lock of her hair along the side of her face. He rubbed the tendrils between his fingers as though testing them out. “Like wheat in morning sun.” Her chest tightened at the almost reverent utterance. “So soft. I’d wager all of you is this soft.”
    Her breath caught, mesmerized even though she knew he was doing this on purpose—trying to addle her thoughts and seduce her with his words. He was an expert seducer, she had no doubt. A man like him . . . with his looks and position, he probably need say nothing at all for the ladies to titter and throw themselves in his path.
    He leaned closer, his body encroaching until his breath fanned her ear. “Would you like me to show you how it can be? What your Weston can never give you?”
    The tightness in her chest became unbearable. So tight she could scarcely breathe. She shook her head fiercely even as she gazed at his well-carved lips, imagining them on her, the pressure, the taste.
    Blast him! He was a sorcerer. She would not be one of those debutantes to let him woo her with pretty words. She knew what he wanted and it wasn’t her . Not truly her. This was merely a game to him, and she a conquest. “No. I would not.”
    And just like that he stepped back.
    She blinked, surprised at his abrupt departure, almost falling forward after him. She was certain he had meant to kiss her.
    “I will wait until you are ready.”
    She squared her shoulders, telling herself she was relieved. He would not kiss her. Good. That was very, very good. She was not disappointed. “Then you shall have a long wait.”
    “I’m a patient man. You will say the words. If not in speech, then in deed. I’ll await your express invitation.” He motioned between them. “Then this will happen. You. Me. And we shall wed.”
    The cheek of the man.
    “It will never happen. I leave in a week,” she reminded him. She could hold out that long and resist him.
    His mouth curled in that insufferably melting way again. “A lot can happen in a week.” The words were flung down boldly, confidently, but something lurked in the silvery blue of his eyes. Concern that perhaps a week would not be enough?
    She stepped around him, confident that she could resist him now that he had just promised not to touch her. She merely had to endure the sight of him, ignore his persuasive words . . . and this attraction she felt whenever near him.
    And yet knowing he would not touch her . . . that the curiosity he had piqued in her would never be satisfied left her feeling a little hollow inside.
    No more than how hollow you will feel married to a man who wanted you only for your fortune.
    With that thought bouncing through her mind, she hastened ahead of him down to dinner.

C HAPTER F IVE
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    F or the next few days, he plagued her precisely in the manner he had promised. He was around every corner with a flirtatious smile or a clever compliment. One night she even found a bouquet of flowers on her pillow. She had no idea where he had found flowers in the midst of winter, but she knew he had. She knew they were from him.
    His behavior had not gone unnoticed. Their mothers watched on, beaming at him with approval. And then their gazes changed when they looked at her. The approval altering to consternation for it was clear she went out of her way to discourage him.
    “What’s the matter with you, you daft girl?” Her mother