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she shared with a man who deemed her one step above the gutter.
    His voice rustled the tiny hairs that had spilled free from her chignon to frame her face. “Of course if you would prefer to stay here, I’m quite sure we could occupy ourselves.”
    He spoke so calmly. As if he did not care one way or another if she accepted his offer, and perhaps that stung the most. Not the offer itself, but that he would proposition her and not care whether she agreed.
    â€œGet away from me, you wretch!” Grier flung herself back. Twisting around, she fumbled with the door and burst from the armoire. Breath sawing from her lips, she whirled around, her burgundy skirts sweeping wide as she glared at the man emerging from the armoire.
    Taking in his immense size, she marveled that the two of them had fit inside at all. She blew at a strand of auburn hair swinging before her eyes. It still dangled in the most annoying fashion, so she swiped at the offending strand furiously, never breaking her glare.
    His cat-gold eyes followed her movements with mild interest, a notable change. He’d looked bored before. “Is this far enough away? I confess a woman has never asked me to remove myself from her side before.”
    The arrogant jackass!
    His eyes were molten, fire burning as bright as sunlight. How did one possess gold eyes? She’d never seen the like. Perhaps he was the devil?
    Suddenly he looked awake. Not even when she had doused her lemon water over him had he looked quite so . . . alert. Not as he did now, circling her like some sort of jungle cat. A predator.
    A tiny frisson of alarm coursed through her to realize she was the cause for that. She was the reason his eyes burned brightly.
    She sucked in a breath, marveling that her stays had not felt this tight at the beginning of the night. Right now her clothing felt constrictive, her body sensitive, swollen and chafing against her garments.
    Her cheeks burned with mortification. She pulled back her shoulders and regretted the move when his gaze dropped to her décolletage. The modest cut was no more daring than that of any other lady in attendance tonight, but the sweetheart neckline felt very risqué beneath his regard.
    She angled her chin and clasped her hands in front of her. “Was it necessary to accost me while we were hiding?”
    An indolent smile curved his sinful lips. “Forgive me,” he said without a hint of apology. “When I have a woman pressed against me, it’s only human nature to react.”
    Heat fired her cheeks. “Human nature,” she bit out, “does not give you leave to touch me. I don’t care if you’re a prince or not. No one touches me,” she growled. At least not again. Not without the protection of marriage. Never again would she lose control when a handsome man put his hands on her or whispered promises in her ear.
    Not that the man before her had whispered such words. Nor would he ever. On the contrary, he’d said only the most insulting things to her— about her—since they’d met.
    He shrugged one broad shoulder, clearly unbothered by her outrage. And that only outraged her further. Did he think himself so above the conventions that governed the rest of Society?
    â€œYou did not seem . . . opposed.” He drew closer, staring at her in the most perplexing manner. “I thought perhaps you wanted to become friends.”
    â€œFriends?” Her eyes narrowed.
    â€œYou’re not unattractive,” he drawled.
    She blinked. “So therefore I’m worthy of dalliance?” She shook her head, marveling at his arrogance. “This may come as a shock, but I don’t care for your opinion of me.”
    He continued as though she hadn’t spoken, “Your hair isn’t the most modest shade, but it is appealing.” He cocked his head as he surveyed her. “Your skin has seen too much of the sun,” he announced. “Have