Relentless Lord by Amy Sandas

himself growing angry that she would refuse to take his word for it. Then realized he couldn’t blame her for doing exactly what everyone else was doing.
    “Ah, what a blasted coil,” he lamented.
    She smiled at his dramatic response and shook her head gently. “You should really just turn your attention elsewhere, Lord Whitely. It will save us both unnecessary trouble.”
    “I tend to enjoy trouble,” he rejoined with a wink. “Yours especially since it occasionally leads to broad glimpses of your stunning anatomy.”
    She gave him a swat on the arm and his words tumbled into laughter. She glanced around to be sure no one was close enough to hear his improper remark.
    Looking back up into his eyes with a narrowed gaze that made her blue eyes flash with annoyance and something else, she said, “Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen. Now let up on this nonexistent challenge and leave me be.”
    “Can’t,” he replied with a grin. “Not until I win.”
    She took two long, steady breaths as they stared at each other. Each of them taking the other’s measure. Neither of them anticipating their opponent’s surrender, nor truly wanting it.
    Then she issued the sigh of a woman tortured by the persistent idiocy of the male species.
    Miles had heard the sigh a thousand times before from his sisters and had learned long ago there were two ways to counter female annoyance—humor and honesty.
    “You are relentless,” she accused.
    “And you are the most fascinating woman I have ever met.”
    “Then you must know a frighteningly dull selection of females. That or you are a recluse.” She tossed him a cheeky glance. “Perhaps the rumors about you are as false as you claim.”
    “Of course they are. Still, I happen to know some very interesting and attractive women. You surpass them all.”
    She shook her head in amusement. “Your flattery is impossible to believe when it goes so far, my lord.”
    “It is not flattery when it is true, Miss Walpole. You should know how much I admire you.”
    “You desire me. There is a difference,” she retorted.
    “There is,” he agreed, “and I do both. I am rather talented in that way.”
    She snorted back a laugh as another strolling couple passed near their spot. Once the semblance of privacy was restored, she gave him an assessing glance. “You are an accomplished flirt, I will give you that.”
    “And an excellent kisser.”
    Her eyes widened fractionally. After a breath, she replied in a low voice, “Yes. Inspired actually.”
    “A passionate lover,” his murmured.
    The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered and her gaze darkened. “There are more important things than passion.”
    “Impossible,” he countered with a heavy brow. “Name one.”
    “Constancy. Trust.” She paused. “Love.”
    Miles grimaced. “I said one.”
    “Take your pick,” she said with a wave of her hand.
    “No, thank you. I have decided to be greedy. I choose all of them.”
    Her mouth was open, ready to retort, when her delightful cousin sidled up beside them. Miles coughed back a sound of irritation as he saw that Miss Tremaine was accompanied by Lord Hathmore, a man with more self-righteous condemnation than any Miles had ever met. The bloke thought himself a saint of the highest order, when he was nothing more than an uptight prig.
    “The two of you look frightfully cozy over here in the corner by yourselves,” Miss Tremaine said with a sly smile. Then she leaned toward Hannah to whisper sotto voce , “Do be careful not to let father spy you so intimately engaged with Lord Whitely.”
    Though Miles noted a slight stiffening of her shoulders, Hannah tipped her head and replied in a light tone, “Your concern is appreciated, but we are hardly intimately engaged. Surely, there can be no fault observed in a conversation.”
    “If I may say, Miss Walpole,” Lord Hathmore intruded, his beady eyes darting to Miles before looking back to Hannah with an earnest sigh, “that