Chapter 5

He has gone mad—most certifiably insane!

Alice looked at the man looming over her like a predator, his blue-gray eyes gleaming with wolfish delight as he gazed down upon her as if he was sizing up her potential as a meal.

Was that the reason, then? Was that why he wanted a fake betrothal, and then the minute she dropped her guard, he would pounce on her like the beast that he was and devour her whole?

She shook her head at such ludicrous thoughts. Still, there was no mistaking the hungry gleam in his eyes or the positively feral smile with which he regarded her. He was like those exotic flowers that she had read about once—so beautiful and yet so dangerous.

"Why would you want an engagement with me of all people?" she squeaked. "I must admit that it would be a great convenience on my part, as it would afford me time to search for a more suitable match… but why would you want one?"

She saw his eyes darken with something akin to anger and fought the urge to press herself against the door until her flesh melted into the wooden grain. She had to admit that it was a most impertinent question, asking a man—a stranger—why he wanted a fake betrothal, but she had to know his reasoning. So much unnecessary misery could be avoided in the future if she knew at least that.

Besides, he himself had framed his proposal as one that benefited her, as if he was so certain she would agree. She was determined not to make it so easy for him if only to derive a small amount of pleasure from being perverse.

"Why would you need to know?" He grinned roguishly at her. "Is it not enough that I have offered myself to you for all of one month?"

Alice shook her head and stood her ground. "Thinks't thou, Your Grace, though her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell?"

He looked taken aback by her reply, almost as if she had just sprouted nonsense.

Almost as the words escaped her lips, Alice wished she could take them back. It was a bad habit of hers, really, and her mama had complained that it only made her appear even more of a bluestocking. Or at the very least, an eccentric.

And no gentleman wants to marry an eccentric woman.

Not that she wanted to marry the man before her, of course! While he was indeed quite handsome and rather distinguished-looking with that lock of dark hair framing his devastatingly gorgeous features, she did not know anything about him.

Nothing good, in any case.

"Was that… Shakespeare?" he muttered. "Are you quoting Shakespeare?"

She nodded morosely. "It is a rather bad habit of mine, you see. I tend to quote the man when I am… uncomfortable."

"And do I make you uncomfortable?"

Alice shot him a glare. For one thing, he was standing much too close than was appropriate. And another thing, he was basically shirtless, his pants stained with what looked like blood. Her gaze dropped uneasily to his crotch once more.

"Just answer my question, Your Grace," she persisted. "Why would you want to fake a betrothal with me other than you wanting to eat me, as ludicrous as that may sound."

She heard him mutter something under his breath, his expression a mix of emotions she could not decipher. She carefully averted her eyes from his once more, only to find herself staring at the bright red splashed across his pants.

"It's not blood."

She looked up quickly. "I beg your pardon?"

He sighed. "That bright red on my breeches—it's not blood."

"It looks decidedly like blood."

"Because I intended it to look that way," he clarified. "It is paint. I was… painting."

"You… were what?"

Alice nearly kicked herself for such an imbecilic response to his confession. He had just explained to her what the stain on his breeches was, and here she was, acting like an absolute half-wit.

"Painting." He grinned wolfishly at her again. "And I am not going to eat you—not unless you ask nicely, of course."

She bristled at that. "Who would I want to be eaten by you?" she muttered, shifting her gaze away from him. The man was certainly much too dazzling for his own good. Alice had no doubt that if she rejected his offer, he could go out and ask the first woman he saw, and she would have accepted it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

But then again, she was truly one who went against her own best interests, was she not?

"Why do you need me?" she asked him again, her voice softer.

She had to know. Alice was never one who wanted to be left in the dark, and if the Duke of Thorns could not be honest with her, then there was no reason to agree on anything, was there?

She gazed defiantly back at him. The ball was in his court now.

* * *

Colin had never met a more intriguing woman in his entire life. Not only did she admit to trespassing into his own estate, but she even boldly admitted that she intended to steal from him. Not just anything, no—she intended to steal a highly scandalous libertine book, the likes of which would send the regular debutante into paroxysms of terror.

Did Lady Alice Barkley have any idea what she was asking for? He would hazard a guess that she did not—the young lady was as much an innocent as a lamb.

A highly audacious, mischievous lamb who dared to wander into the den of a Wolf.

He smirked to himself. The analogy was hard to miss, really.

She was also extremely persistent. Foolishly so. She insisted on knowing the reasoning behind his ludicrous proposal, regarding him with a gaze that doubted his sanity—or his dietary preferences.

The truth, however, was always far less exciting than what one expected.

"My sister will be making her bow this Season," he finally admitted. "As you very well know, I do not exactly have the most stellar reputation in the ton."

"That is putting it rather lightly."

He frowned at her. He was well aware of his faults, damn it, but did she have to agree so easily to it?

"In any case, I need to fix my reputation, and I have been told that a betrothal to a nice young lady of unimpeachable reputation will set things straight," he finished. "Not that it could undo my years of debauchery, but it will be a good start." His gaze roved over her from head to toe. "Although I highly doubt that sneaking into my estate under cover of darkness is commendable behavior for a young lady—" He raised an eyebrow at her. "—you will do."

The sound that came out of her was one of shock and barely suppressed feminine outrage.

"I will do?" she all but shrieked.

He nodded his head firmly. "No one better for the job, I assure you."

"Maybe because of the great lack of women you can blackmail!"

"I am not blackmailing you." He smirked. "I am offering you something else."

"What a nice way of wording it!" she flung back scathingly. "Aside from not divulging my misadventure here tonight, what could you possibly offer me?"

Oh, a great many things, he wanted to tell her. Instead, he held up three fingers.

"Just three words, little lamb," he told her, purposefully lowering his voice in the hope that it would make her drop her guard. "La. Nouvelle. Justine."

She looked at him in surprise. "You would give the book to me?"

"Not give. Lend," he corrected her.

"That is unfair." She folded her arms across her chest, unconsciously pushing her lush breasts up to his hungry gaze. "A betrothal—even a fake one—should cost more than a book."

"The value of the book in question depends on whom you ask," he replied easily. "To some, it deserves to be thrown into the flames. Others would appreciate it according to their perverse preferences. Others still desire it because of its rarity."

Her green eyes darted back to him, and Colin fought the urge to smile triumphantly. He knew she would not relent without a fight, but he could already see her defenses crumbling. It would take only a little more push to get her to agree to his proposal.

She licked her lower lip, her pink tongue darting quickly in a movement that nearly had him groaning before her.

"And if I agree, you will lend me this prized possession of yours?" she asked him hesitantly.

"Of course." He grinned. "Provided, of course, that you do not take the book outside of the premises of Blackthorn Estate."

"What? I cannot take it home with me?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders with a dramatic sigh. "Of course, I am well aware of the extremely controversial contents of this book. I cannot, in good conscience, leave it alone in the hands of an impressionable young lady such as yourself…"

He reached out with a finger to trace the side of her face. Her green eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted.

Absolutely ravishing.

He wanted to trace his thumb over those slightly parted lips, to lay his lips on hers and taste them, plunder them…

He shook his head inwardly at such thoughts. The life of a libertine was something he had left in his past, never to be revisited. If it had not been for Evelyn making her bow, he would not even feel compelled to humor the ton with his presence. But his younger sister deserved his support if she was ever to find her happiness in this world. As her older brother, it was the least he could do for her.

"So, what do you say, Lady Alice Barkley?" He smiled softly at Alice, holding his hand out for her to shake. "Have we come to an agreement?"

She looked at his hand and bit her lower lip, unknowingly sending a bolt of pure desire straight to his groin. He sincerely hoped that after his explanation, she would not dare to look down at his crotch once more. Otherwise, how could he explain to her the evidence of his lust?

Well, if she is going to read what she wants to read, she better prepare herself for it,a sarcastic voice whispered in his head.

La Philosophie dans Le Boudoir was not for the faint of heart. He did not think Lady Alice Barkley was a shrinking violet, anyway.

But, oh… how exciting would it be to spend lazy afternoons reading just what might be one of the most sensual books in all of Europe!

"Fine!" she scoffed. Colin watched as if in a daze as her hand shot out to grasp his in a firm handshake. "Thirty days," she warned him with a dark look. "No more, no less."

"To the day," he confirmed.

"And no touching!" she warned him darkly.

Colin looked at her in surprise. "Why not?"

There were countless who would jump at the chance to be touched by him, even in the name of a fake betrothal. Bloody hell, they did not even need an excuse.

"Because you are a Wolf," she told him primly. "And this is only a temporary arrangement. If this is meant to buy me more time to find a more suitable match, then I cannot have my reputation ruined by you."

The thought that she was going to be husband-hunting while still technically betrothed to him left a bad taste in his mouth. In fact, it made him irrationally angry, thinking of her in the arms of another man who probably did not know the first thing about pleasing a woman, let alone initiating her to the delights of bedsports.

Besides, that nickname was so ancient that he wondered why it still stuck. Certainly, the ton could be more inventive than that, and he had stayed away from the public eye for more than half a decade already.

"All right," he acquiesced magnanimously. "I might not agree with the rule, but I shall merely wait for you to beg me to break it."

She glared at him. "You wish!"

Oh, he wished, indeed! She just had no idea how much.

He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Will that be all, then?"

"Not quite." She shook her head. "You will let me read the book in all its entirety."

"What book?"

Oh, he was enjoying teasing her so, so much. He could not recall ever having so much fun in a long time.

Alice looked as if she was going to stomp her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "La Philosophie dans Le Boudoir—or the English translation of it." She fumed.

"Of course. As long as you read it here in my private library," he affirmed with a wide smile. "And in my presence, so I might assist you."

She rolled her eyes. "I do not know why you think I would need assistance, when I can read very well on my own."

"And you will help my sister with her debut."

"I do not see how a near-spinster without prospects can boost her popularity, but I shall do my very best."

"And you are to tell no one about what you saw here—including the paint."

"I do not see how divulging the fact that I was in your estate unchaperoned would be good for my reputation," she retorted sarcastically, and then belatedly added, "Your Grace."

He smiled slowly at that. "Call me Colin," he told her. "I am going to be your betrothed very soon. It would be very awkward if you insist on addressing me by my title."

"Colin, then."

"Alice. Little lamb."

Her hand was so small in his much larger one, more delicately boned. A single rough twist and he could break it.

But there was strength in her grip and the steely glint in her eyes.

"If that is all, Your Grace—Colin—then I shall be taking my leave," she declared, making a move as if to turn around.

"Wait."

She turned around with a look of confusion. "Is there something else you want to say?"

He made a move to grab his coat. "As your betrothed, I should at least provide you with a carriage to take you back home."

"Oh, do not worry about that." She laughed. "I can manage well enough on my own. I made it here on my own, did I not?"

"Then I shall personally see you to your carriage," he insisted. "Just to ensure the safety of my beloved betrothed, of course."

Fortunately, she did not quibble anymore with him, and she even allowed him to graciously help her board her carriage. Just before she stepped inside, however, she leaned over to the coachman.

"Thank you very much, Thomas," he heard her say. "I shall put in a good word for you with Jane if you keep this a secret."

"Thank you so much, M'Lady!" The coachman beamed gratefully at her.

Colin could only snort at this exchange. Lady Alice Barkley, it would seem, was not above using bribery to achieve her aims.

He kissed the back of her hand, much to her consternation, and bowed theatrically to her before closing the door to her visible displeasure.

Already, he was looking forward to seeing her again.