Lord of Scoundrels - Loretta Chase [22]
All Dain could see was an exceedingly pretty girl teasing him with a toy he wanted very badly. He had offered her his biggest and very best toy in trade. And she had laughed and threatened to throw her toy into a privy, just to make him beg.
Much later, Lord Dain would understand that this— or something equally idiotic— had been raging through his brain.
But that would be much later, when it was far too late.
At this moment, he was about eight years old on the inside and nearly three and thirty on the outside, and thus, beside himself.
He leaned toward her. "Miss Trent, there are no other terms," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I pay you fifteen hundred quid and you say, 'Done,' and everyone goes away happy."
"No, they don't." Her chin jutted up stubbornly. "If you will not send Bertie home, there is no business on earth I would do with you. You are destroying his life. No amount of money in the world will compensate. I should not sell the icon to you if I were in the last stages of starvation."
"Easy enough to say when your stomach is full," he said. Then, in Latin, he mockingly quoted Publilius Syrus. "'Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.'"
In the same language she quoted the same sage, "'You cannot put the same shoe on every foot.'"
His countenance betrayed nothing of his astonishment. "It would appear that you have dipped into Publilius," he said. "How very odd, then, that so clever a female cannot see what is before her eyes. I am not a dead language to play in, Miss Trent. You are treading perilously close to dangerous waters."
"Because my brother is drowning there," she said. "Because you are holding his head under. I am not large enough or powerful enough to pull your hand away. All I have is something you want, which even you cannot take away." Her silver eyes flashed. "There is only one way for you to get it, my lord Beelzebub. You throw him back."
Had he been capable of reasoning in an adult fashion, Dain would have acknowledged that her reasoning was excellent— that, moreover, it was precisely as he would have done had he found himself in her predicament. He might even have appreciated the fact that she told him plainly and precisely what she was about, rather than using feminine guiles and wiles to manipulate.
He was not capable of adult reasoning.
The flash of temper in her eyes should have glanced harmlessly off him. Instead, it shot fast and deep and ignited an inner fuse. He thought the fuse was anger. He thought that if she had been a man, he would have thrown her— straight against the wall. He thought that, since she was a woman, he would have to find an equally effective way of teaching her a lesson.
He didn't know that throwing her was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. He didn't know that the lessons he wanted to teach her were those of Venus, not Mars, Ovid's Ars Armatoria, not Caesar's De Bello Gallico.
Consequently, he made a mistake.
"No, you do not see clearly at all," he said. "There is always another way, Miss Trent. You think there isn't because you assume I will play by all the dear little rules Society dotes upon. You think, for instance, that because we're in a public place and you're a lady, I'll mind my manners. Perhaps you even think I have a regard for your reputation." He smiled evilly. "Miss Trent, perhaps you would like to take a moment to think again."
Her grey eyes narrowed. "I think you are threatening me," she said.
"Let me make it as clear as you did your own threat." He leaned toward her. "I can crack your reputation in under thirty seconds. In three minutes I can reduce it to dust. We both know, don't we, that being who I am, I need not exert myself overmuch to accomplish this. You have already become an object of speculation simply by being seen in my company." He paused briefly to let the words sink in.
She said nothing. Her slitted eyes