He was silent for a moment, watching the way she stood, eyebrows raised, waiting for his answer. None was forthcoming.
Infuriated, Lily gritted her teeth. ‘I am not usually contrary by nature, sir. There are many who would find me the perfect companion, I assure you, and none of them would presume to speak of me—or to me, for that matter—as you have done. It is no failing in myself that I find you so extremely…’
‘Provoking?’ he suggested helpfully.
She resisted the urge to stamp her foot for fear it would send her up to her ankles in mud. ‘Now you are laughing at me?’
‘I assure you, I would not dare.’
‘Then explain to me why you make such judgements about women you do not know!’
He raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘Perhaps you should explain why you are so eager to hear my explanation.’
‘Because…Ugh!’ Lily threw up her hands. ‘We are going around in circles. I bid you good day, sir. I will walk from here.’
With that she set off, out from under the tree and across the soaked grass, furious, humiliated and all the while wondering at the strength of the emotions that coursed through her. It had been true, what she told him of her character. She was mild, courteous Liliana Pevensey: unassuming, quiet living and, of late, tastefully coquettish in polite company. How had she turned into the type of woman who shrieked at men in the rain?
It was all his fault—and she would have no more of it! He was an uncivilised boor and about as far from a gentleman as she had ever encountered.
The ground squelched under her shoes, and the rain still had not let up, but Lily gave little thought to these trivial matters—she wanted simply to be as far from Major Westhaven as possible.
Unfortunately, he seemed to be following her.
‘Miss Pevensey.’
Those long legs apparently allowed him to cover ground much faster than she—he was gaining on her.
She swung around, narrowly avoiding losing her balance.
‘Leave me be, sir!’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To the gates to flag down a cab, of course!’
‘I have a perfectly good carriage.’ He sounded as if he was trying to pacify a child, and it infuriated her. ‘And, even if I was willing to explain your unchaperoned departure to your friend, you are unlikely to find a cab out here, I assure you.’
She scowled as he drew level with her. ‘I cannot wait another moment if you are to wait with me!’
He took her arm again as she turned away.
‘Stay.’
It was said with such calmness that she actually paused. She looked at him, his hair plastered to his head with rain—and all of a sudden she felt more wretched than she had in a long time.
‘I just want to go home,’ she said, shoulders drooping as the anger drained from her body. ‘You are quite right, my lord. I have not the character for running about the country with mud in my shoes. If that is what gentlemen wish for these days, then I shall happily remain an old maid.’
A frown crossed his face as she met his eyes but fleetingly.
‘I have truly upset you, haven’t I?’
Something in his expression stung her straight back into fury. She wiped rain from her face and scowled at him. ‘Upset me? Why ever would you think that I have enough substance of character to feel upset?’
‘Perhaps if you would—’
‘You must forgive me,’ she interrupted, ‘but it is not easy to learn that your temperament is out of fashion, sir. Even the most vacuous—the most vacant—of us have feelings!’
She stalked past him, tears stinging her eyes. Must she endure such comments from such a man? Not, she reminded herself firmly, that she cared a fig what this particular man thought.
‘Plenty of your peers find my conversation perfectly satisfactory,’ she snapped over her shoulder. ‘Perhaps you should consider that it is yourself who is wanting, not those of us who are merely trying to make things pleasant for others, so we may all—’
‘It seems I was wrong,’ he said from behind her.
Lily stopped. ‘What?’ She turned to face him as he reached her side once more, mud sucking at his boots.
‘It seems you can carry on a conversation. With or without a partner, it would seem.’
She frowned, disarmed and ruffled. ‘Now suddenly you wish to agree with me?’
‘It seems so.’ Was that amusement in his eyes? Was he laughing at her, again?
‘Well—how terribly convenient!’ She glared up at him, eyes blazing. ‘What about my mindless chatter, sir? Does it not grate on your nerves how I can speak of nothing but dancing, and cannot comment on foreign policy in the Colonies, the role of the British Army or the state of the economy? Do you not wish there was a fishwife somewhere to divert your attention with her witty banter? Or perhaps you find my banality soothing, as you yourself are so very—’
Her tirade turned abruptly into a startled squeak as, taking her chin none too gently in an iron grip, he stepped forward and covered her mouth with his.
His kiss was almost fierce in its intensity, his lips warm and firm against hers. It was a sensation quite unlike anything she had ever experienced.
Lily, jolted out of her temper by the oddest feeling of awakening, felt with wonder the way her mouth moulded to his, the way her body was filled with an unexplained and tingly longing that started in her belly and spread rapidly outwards. Her lips were tender beneath his, and she felt her eyes closing, unspoken reservations swept away on a tide of arousal.
As if feeling her response, he pulled her closer, his kiss hard, insistent, leaving her in no doubt as to the passion that lay just beneath the surface of his cool manner. She found herself pressed against him, surrendering to the depths of his mouth, allowing his long fingers to brush the rain from her face.
She clung to his lapels, his arm around her back the only thing keeping her upright. Her mouth actively sought his now—and she felt no shame, only an odd sense of completeness, as though their quarrel had in some way been leading to this point all along.
At last he broke away, still holding her to him, eyes smoky with suppressed desire. He was very close, rain glistening on his skin, and Lily, too shocked to speak, could not take her eyes from his mouth. Her knees were threatening to deposit her on the ground at any moment, yet all her brain could focus on was the woody scent of cigar smoke that clung to him.
Then he released her and, abruptly, she came to her senses.
She wished to scream at him, but she could not quite catch her breath. So instead she drew back her arm to slap him as hard as he could.
He stopped it inches from his face, pulled her hard up against him and looked down into her face.
‘Try that a second time,’ he said silkily, ‘and I will show you what it is like to be really kissed.’
‘Let me go,’ she ground out between her teeth, almost sobbing with frustration, humiliation and desire. For she knew, pressed against him, that if he was to keep his promise and kiss her again her body would respond just as ardently. She was disgusted with herself.
He let her go.
Dropping her eyes, she stepped away from him, trembling now not only from the chill rain that still poured upon them, her anger dissolved. Her teeth were beginning to chatter as, utterly wretched, she wrapped her arms about herself for warmth.
‘Is that what I can expect if I