Unclaimed by Courtney Milan Page A

silently for a while. Jessica set her jaw and returned his gaze.
    “You are quite right,” he eventually said. “I agree with your every sentiment, with my whole heart.” And then he did smile at her—not just a bemused little curl of his lips, but a brilliant grin. “Pardon me. I agree with almost every sentiment.” He leaned back against the door. “I must make an exception for one tiny particular. You see, I rather like myself.”
    She’d never met a man before who preferred facts over flattery. He seemed torn from the pages of a child’s fable—a dazzling hero, pure and upstanding. Incorruptible. And what role did that give her in this fairy tale?
    “You would be a more comfortable man if you were not so good.”
    “No, Mrs. Farleigh. You mustn’t believe that. You were doing so well at avoiding all those pesky illusions. I’ve told you before, I’m no saint. In fact, I am eaten up by mortal sins. It’s refreshing for someone else to notice.”
    “Sin? You must not mean the typical ones that gentlemen engage in.”
    “Typical enough.” He shrugged. “I harbor a great deal of pride.”
    “Oh?”
    “Oh.” He met her eyes. “You see, I’m not some shiny bauble to be strung onto a necklace and displayed for all the world to see. I’m too proud to ever be anyone’s conquest.”
    It was both warning and explanation all at once. She could see that now, in the set in his jaw. Her direct approach to seduction would never have worked even if he’d been more inclined to sin. This was a man who wanted to work for his prize.
    “Besides,” he added, “I’m much too proud to ever want a woman who did not like me.”
    “Liking has nothing to do with it. Can you tell me the difference between a mounting block and a male virgin?”
    He shook his head.
    “The virgin,” Jessica said, “is a far easier conquest.”
    He laughed—simple and uncomplicated. “Yes,” he said. “I far prefer this side of you. For what it’s worth, Mrs. Farleigh, I don’t hate you. I don’t even hold you in dislike, however disreputable your intentions may have been this afternoon. I don’t imagine your situation is easy.” He looked down briefly and then glanced up, his blond radiance almost overwhelming. “I’m willing to forgive a great deal from clever women who see through the veneer of saintliness.”
    She wasn’t certain what he meant by that. But he was smiling at her. He’d not thrown her out and told her never to speak with him again. She had a chance—one last chance at success. It was going to be hard. Practically impossible. And she was going to have to move with painstaking slowness.
    “It’s becoming harder to hate you, knowing that you’re more than a collection of moral aphorisms. But I am rather perverse.”
    “Be careful.” His words were a warning, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m proud enough that I might decide to convince you to like me after all.”
    “No, no. We can’t have that.” She pitched her tone to playfulness. “If I actually liked you, I might decide to tempt you again—not to prove a point, but just for the pleasure of having you in my bed.”
    She hadn’t realized she meant it until she said it. She didn’t want Sir Mark in her bed in any sexual sense—it had been years since she’d felt true desire.
    No. She meant what she’d said in the most wistful sense possible. Despite his protestations, he seemed like a nice man. She’d never had a nice man in her bed.
    But standing as close to him as she was, she could hear his indrawn breath. She could see his pupils dilate. He didn’t rake his gaze down her body in possessive desire, as the jaded roués of her acquaintance might have done. But he didn’t squeeze his eyes shut, like a young boy trying to deny the truth of his vision.
    Instead, he raised his head. His gaze caught hers—steady and just a bit mischievous. And she swallowed. Sir Mark wasn’t anything like what she had imagined a virgin would