corridors and at least two courtyards, but with any luck Freddy wouldn’t think of that. “I’m sure Mr. Masters can be a gentleman for
that
long.”
“Masters,” Freddy said, his brow furrowed. “I’ve heard that name before.” He brightened. “Wait, did you bet Lord Jarret that you could drink ten tankards of ale in an hour and still pleasure a wo—” He broke off with a look of chagrin.
“Yes, Giles, are you
that
Masters?” Minerva asked sweetly.
“Absolutely not.” Giles tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, then started down the hall.
As soon as they were out of Freddy’s earshot, she said, “Liar.”
“Not at all,” he said grimly. “It was only five tankards.”
He seemed embarrassed. That wasn’t like Giles, from what she knew. Like her brothers, he’d always acted the carefree rogue with no apparent shame.
“And did you win?” she asked with an arch glance. She hated how much it bothered her that he’d made a wager that involved pleasuring
any
woman, even a lady of ill repute.
“Does it matter?”
“You’re the one who said I should ask questions about what I could expect from my future husband in the bedchamber. I figure that if you won the bet, that shows you have enoughstamina to keep me happy.”
Giles steadied a piercing blue gaze on her. “If you’re trying to shock me, it won’t work. I’ve read your books, remember?”
Yes, that was the trouble.
A niggling suspicion entered her mind. “You didn’t tell Gran that I don’t really mean to marry you, did you?”
His expression turned unreadable. “You promised to kill off Rockton. Why would I jeopardize that by scheming with your grandmother?”
“Good point.” But she still didn’t trust him. “So what
did
you say to Gran? How did you convince her to allow a courtship between us?”
“I told her I wanted to marry you. That I admired and respected you. That I could support you. Why? What did you
want
me to tell her?”
“I don’t know. Something alarming.”
“Like ‘Please let me marry your granddaughter, Mrs. Plumtree, so I can beat her every morning and chain her to the bed every night’?”
She struggled not to laugh. “Something like that.”
“You’re too immersed in your gothic novels, minx. If I told her such a whopping lie, she’d smell a rat. Or she’d refuse to let me court you, kick me out of the house, and that would be the end of your plan. She has to see me as a problem, and how can I be a problem if I let her dispense of me too easily?”
“True. So how exactly do you mean to be a problem?”
He tugged her through the nearest open doorway, which led into the deserted breakfast room. Then he hauled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.
He gave her no chance to think or marshal her defenses, as she had earlier. He just kissed her with a boldness that melted her to her toes. Her pulse jumped into a martial beat, and herhead began to spin. He swamped her with the sheer, visceral power of seduction and turned her resolve to mush. Along with her brain, her knees, and a few other body parts.
Silky warmth stole through her body when the kiss turned blatantly wicked. Even knowing he was just behaving true to form for a scoundrel didn’t keep her from responding. She’d spent nine years remembering their one toe-curling kiss, and she wanted another one too badly. She’d curbed her desires earlier; she couldn’t curb them now.
Especially when his hands began to roam her body with decided possessiveness. He swept them up and down her ribs, making her ache to feel them in more intimate places. Would he dare touch her where he shouldn’t? Did she dare let him?
Then the kiss was over, leaving her shaking with unmet urges she’d never thought to feel again.
He nuzzled her cheek. “Does that answer your question?” he asked in a husky murmur that resonated throughout her traitorous body.
She struggled to regain control of it. And to remember what he was talking