““I'll never come to you willingly." When he caught her hand, the jolt of heat threatened to blast his control to ashes. He drew her down beside him on the window seat. "I'd like the chance to convince you otherwise, bella." When had her willingness become so important? Sometime since he'd kissed her and caught a hint of how sweet she'd be in his arms when she finally gave herself up. She tried and failed to pull away. "Only a swaggering coxcomb would hope to change my mind in a mere week. I won't change my mind in a hundred years." He fought another smile. Did she feel the vivid energy flickering between them? He couldn't believe he burned alone, for all she denied him with words. "You make the challenge so delicious." "I'm not... flirting with you, Mr. Merrick. I'm pointing out you waste your time with this absurd scheme." "In which case, you'll return to your sister none the worse," he said calmly, efficiently stripping her glove away. He ached to touch her skin. The cynicism in her expression made her look older than her twenty-four years. "You don't for one moment expect to lose, do you?" He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a fervent kiss to her soft palm. Her scent filled his head, intoxicating him like the finest wine. "I rely upon my fatal charm." She tugged at her hand. Her cheeks were pink with outrage and what unfounded optimism read as grudging pleasure.””
