Free The Study of Seduction: Sinful Suitors 2 by Sabrina Jeffries Page B

bodies behaved in motion.
    After one such turn, Clarissa muttered an oath under her breath. “I’m astonished that you own a phaeton. And that you drive it so fast. I would have expected you to be more . . . well . . .”
    “Boring?” he said tightly.
    “Cautious. As a general rule, you aren’t reckless.”
    “As long as one first assesses a rig to determine its limits, it is not reckless to drive it to the full extent of its capabilities.”
    “Clearly when you did your assessing,” she grumbled, “you did not take your passenger into account. But then, that is typical of you.”
    Of course he’d taken his passenger into account. That was why he was making all these sharp turns, though he could hardly tell her that.
    He glanced over to see her clutching her large silk bonnet with one hand and the side of the phaeton with the other. She looked quite fetching doing it, too, with her plaid gown of soft blues and reds ruffling in the wind. “You seem to have a great many ideas about me that bear no resemblance to my true character.”
    “I could say the same for you. Though it’s not
my
fault we don’t know each other better. You tend to run off whenever I’m around.”
    “Because you and Yvette chatter incessantly. There’s only so much a man can endure.”
    “Well, if you think
we’re
chatterboxes, you should see Miss Trevor.” Clarissa slanted a glance at him. “Indeed, I feel I should warn you about her. She’s clever, I’ll grant you, but I don’t think the two of you would suit.”
    He bit back a smile. “In other words,
you
don’t want to marry me, but you don’t want anyone else to marry me, either.”
    Judging from the way she jerked her gaze back to the road, he’d hit the mark. “It’s not that I don’t want to marry you in particular,” she said. “I told you, I have no intention of marrying anyone.”
    “And why is that?”
    Her face grew shuttered. “I’m not the romantic sort, that’s all.”
    “You don’t have to be the romantic sort to marry.”
    “No, but you have to be affectionate, at least.” She stared blindly ahead at the road. “And I am also not the affectionate sort.”
    “I see.” But he didn’t see at all. He couldn’t imagine her as a cold, unfeeling woman, no matter what she seemed to think.
    She babbled on. “Men want affectionate wives. They deserve them, just as women deserve affectionate husbands. Since I can’t provide that, I wouldn’t think it fair to marry a man under false pretenses.”
    “If you say so. But that’s all the more reason you shouldn’t try to dictate whom
I
should marry.”
    Not that it would ever be Miss Trevor. He couldn’t endure a wife who dressed so outrageously. But he wasn’t going to tell Clarissa that. He was having too much fun watching her attempt to manage his future.
    “I’m not trying to dictate it. I just think that you . . . and Miss Trevor . . .” She glanced over to see him smirking at her, and muttered, “Oh, forget it.”
    “No, do go on. You’ve told me she’s stubborn as a mule and that you find her sudden appearance in society suspicious, but beyond that, you haven’t said exactly
why
we won’t suit. Unless the reason is simply that you don’t like her.”
    “I like her perfectly well. Just not for you.”
    “Because?”
    Clasping her hands primly in her lap, she murmured, “It wouldn’t be polite to say.”
    “Which means you have no reason.”
    “I should think I know what type of woman you’re looking for.”
    “Oh, you do, do you?” he said with a laugh. “And what type is that?”
    “The type who won’t make a fuss. Who’s a pillar of society and follows every propriety. Who will cater to your every whim.”
    Just like that, his amusement vanished. Grimly he steered the phaeton around a hole. “I don’t have ‘whims.’”
    “You know what I mean,” she said, clearly exasperated. “You’re looking for a woman who will march to the beat of your drum.”
    Blast it, he