Beguiling Bridget by Rachel van Dyken, Leah Sanders Page A

or perhaps even slapped?”
    With great strength Anthony refrained from laughing aloud. “It seems to me that your definition of proposition and mine are clearly different. You make it sound as though I’m trying to get you into my bed.”
    Lady Bridget flushed. “Well, I—”
    “And dare I say your cheeks have turned a rosy pink?” Anthony set her to a twirl and pulled her indecently close.
    “I wasn’t referring to your lewd lifestyle, my lord, and I am not blushing! I—” Lady Bridget’s chest rose and fell rapidly in either irritation or passion; he wasn’t certain which — not that there was a terrible difference between the two where this woman was concerned.
    “Sadly, my proposition has nothing to do with mistresses or beds, though I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the idea if you were intent on offering yourself like a lamb to the slaughter.”
    Lady Bridget’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak, but Anthony interrupted her.
    “It has been said one night in my bed is better than hundreds with other men. Surely you know my reputation is to first seek to please the woman. To caress her body with my eyes, using my hands in so many ways as to heighten her passion…” He lifted his gloved hand and briefly touched her neck. “But sadly, as you say, you are not propositioning me, I was propositioning you — and for something entirely boring, I assure you.”
    Lady Bridget’s eyes darted around, taking in everything and everyone but him. Clearly, she was uncomfortable, and he silently cursed himself for coming on so strong.
    “I need your help.” He said help very quietly, for he despised the vile word.
    “Kelp?” Lady Bridget glanced at him. “Is your stomach ailing you, my lord?”
    “Devil take it, I said help !” He all but yelled, inviting stares from several women nearby who appeared more than inclined to offer aid.
    “What could the great Viscount Maddox possibly need with my help?”
    He hated how beautiful his name sounded on her lips — despised that his blood was near boiling with desire for her. And the feel of her body beneath his gloves was the most pleasurable of pain. The dance was drawing to an end, but he needed more time.
    “Trust me. I mean to talk with you about this, but the dance is ending.”
    She tried to protest, which just made him hold her hand all the tighter. He led her down the hall to the first room on the left, first checking for any sort of company and then closing the doors silently behind them.
    “If you come near to touch me, my lord. I swear to you, I’ll scream.” Lady Bridget was standing behind the nearest chair, apparently needing a barrier between them.
    “If I touch you without your consent, I promise you that you may scream and impale me with my own knife.” He slipped it out of his boot and slid it across the floor to her.
    She picked it up and clenched it in her hand. Her eyebrow lifted in suspicion. “Well? What is so urgent that you feel the need to drag me into a private room against my will?”
    Anthony took a deep breath. He had already decided to tell her all. “I never lose bets.”
    “Is that why you’ve brought me here? To tell me you never lose? Truly, my lord, your arrogance is astounding.”
    “Hear me out.” He grew flustered as Bridget tilted her head and put her hands on her hips. The same hips he held just moments ago. He turned around, needing to gain his wits lest he find himself impaled on the business end of his own knife. “My brother and Wilde have issued me a challenge.” She didn’t change her expression, but her impatience was evident in the tapping of her fingers on her hips. “They have given me four weeks to win a certain woman’s affection. Four weeks, or I will lose.”
    Lady Bridget laughed. “Four weeks? To woo a woman? I was right, only a man with an ungodly amount of pride would take such a challenge.”
    “If it was any other woman I would have already been crowned victorious.” Anthony