My Lady's Dare by Gayle Wilson

Author:Gayle Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“More wine?” Dare asked.

Elizabeth lifted her gaze from its unseeing contemplation of her plate to meet his eyes. They were sapphire in the candlelight. Jewellike, surrounded by their frame of long black lashes. Incredibly beautiful.

And, she decided in disgust, she had already had quite enough wine. Too much wine. It was totally out of character for her to notice the color of a man’s eyes, much less to describe them in such hyperbolic terms, even to herself.

“No, thank you, my lord,” she said, her voice colored by that discovery.

“I had thought you were enjoying the wine, Elizabeth. We agreed it is an excellent vintage.”

“I was enjoying it, my lord,” she said, amending her tone. After all, she hadn’t intended to be rude. Dare had done everything possible to make this evening pleasurable. And surprisingly, despite her misgivings this afternoon when he had invited her to dine with him and her trepidation as the dinner hour approached, the experience had been enjoyable. “The claret is excellent, as you well know. If I drink any more, however, I fear it will go to my head.”

His eyes assessed, and then his lips tilted slightly at the corners. Despite her refusal, he turned to his majordomo and signaled with a raised eyebrow.

Without further protest, Elizabeth watched as one of the footmen stepped forward to refill her glass. Just because it was full didn’t mean she had to drink it, she told herself, watching the liquid sparkle in the candlelight as it flowed into her glass. At the beginning of the meal, she had felt a need for the courage the wine would give her. Now, however…

She was aware of the subtle effects of what she had already drunk. A slight relaxation in her customary wariness. A willingness to engage in the flirtation he had begun this afternoon in the library.

Of course, it was possible those feelings could not be attributed entirely to the wine. It had been so long since a man had treated her to anything but insult, she had found herself unconsciously, almost against her will, responding to the earl’s attentions. And other than the gift of the dress, Dare had not put a foot wrong.

She had not worn the gown, of course, although watching Maggie unpack the modiste’s box had caused an unaccustomed, and unexpected, surge of anticipation. Fully revealed, the dress had proven that the earl’s claim was not without merit. His taste was excellent, and apparently he had known as well as she what would become her. There was no doubt the gown would have.

Her coloring was delicate, and it had been overwhelmed by the garish hues Bonnet forced her to wear. Dare’s gown was fashioned of a subtle dusk-rose silk, with a cunningly designed overtunic of cobweb fine lace, the color of old ivory. She had spent far too much time in her room this evening fingering the material and dreaming of how she would look in it.

She had not dared to try it on, because she had known it would be perfect.

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