Free Pleasured by Candace Camp

to keep his thoughts from straying to the erotic. If she had not taken such a dislike to him, the hours could have passed quite enjoyably, but he doubted that he could repair the damage done.
    Clearly he had taken a serious misstep with the woman, but he was confused as to exactly where he had gone wrong, much less what it would take to melt her resentment. He should not have sent her an invitation via his valet, of that much he was certain. But had the offense lain in sending Blandings? Had Blandings said something insulting? Done something? Damon had to admit that his valet could be something of a snob.
    Or was it the note itself? Had his wording been clumsy? He could not remember precisely what he had said, but he was certain it had not been anything blatant or crude. It struck him as decidedly peculiar that she would resent an attempt to be discreet, but what seemed to anger her most was that he had sent her a note at all instead of showing up at her door. Was it that she wanted others to know he desired her, that it gave her a certain cachet to be the object of an earl’s attention? His assumption that she was a woman of easy virtue had infuriated her, yet she had readily admitted that she wanted no husband, that she chose men as she pleased. So it was not actually an issue of her virtue, but of the way he’d acted regarding her virtue. Perhaps she wanted him to play a game, pretend that he thought her a maiden who must be seduced into letting him into her bed.
    He cast another look at her through his lashes. He did not like to engage in pretense, but the thought of seducing Meg Munro struck him as delightful. Unfortunately, he had already put himself at a grave disadvantage. She despised him, and whatever he said to her only seemed to make the situation worse. What was it she would want? He counted himself a sophisticated man, and it was rather dismaying to find he wasn’t sure what to do when it came to a simple country girl.
    “Are you all right?”
    “What?” He turned toward her in surprise.
    “Any cuts? Sprains? Anything broken when your horse tossed you off?” She surveyed him assessingly.
    “I wasn’t ‘tossed off,’ ” he corrected, affronted. “I dismounted so I could save you from drowning.”
    “Save me?” She raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t need ‘saving.’ I am quite able to swim out of three feet of water.”
    “Yes, no doubt that is why I saw you go under twice.” Sweet heaven, this girl was prickly. “Clearly the undertow had no pull on you.”
    “Yes, well . . . it was rather forceful.” Meg looked abashed. “I was frightened.” She paused, then added in a softer voice, “Did you really jump into the sea to help me?”
    “Yes, of course.” He looked at her, puzzled.
    “Oh. Well . . . thank you. That was kind of you.”
    “Did you think I would not?” He scowled. “That I would have ridden off and left you to drown?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t really know you.” She turned away, smoothing at her skirts.
    “Yet, not knowing me, you are ready to believe the worst of me.”
    What was he doing even contemplating trying to win this woman over? Tempting as she was, she could not possibly be worth the trouble. Meg Munro was prickly and baffling and odd. She made him feel off-balance and . . . foreign. Those flickers of hunger whenever he looked at her could easily be fed when he returned to the city. He would be here only a month or two; he could live that long without a woman in his bed. After all, he had had no expectation of bedding anyone while he was here.
    He changed the subject, determined to be civil during the time they had to spend together. “How long will it be before the tide goes out again? I assume we must wait here until that happens. I see no way up this cliff.”
    “There’s not, unless you can climb like a cat. But we don’t have to wait. I know another way out.” She pointed at the opening in the face of the cliff.
    “That hole?” he