Today, as I continue my countdown to the release of my second historical romance, A TASTE OF DESIRE, the on going acrimony between my heroine, Amelia and hero, Thomas continues…
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SHE CHALLENGED HIS PRIDE

Lady Amelia Bertram may have a reputation as the most brazen beauty of the ton, but she shocks even herself when she accidently—and loudly—derides one of society’s most eligible bachelors in the middle of a crowded ballroom. The timing of her faux pas couldn’t be worse, for her father is seeking someone to take her off his hands that very night…

HE CHALLENGED HER WILLPOWER

But when Thomas Armstrong overhears the so-called “Lady” Amelia slandering his sexual prowess in public, he cannot help but accept the dare implicit in her words. To her father’s great delight, he offers to take her to his secluded country estate—properly chaperoned, of course—to teach the girl a lesson in ladylike behavior…

In this scene, Amelia has just entered her father’s study and in the process bashed poor Thomas in the head with the door. She has offered him a cool, “Pardon me.”

“I didn’t expect someone would place themselves so near a closed door,” she added in case he’d misconstrued her statement as an apology.

Her father’s face seized up as if in the midst of an apoplexy. Lord Armstrong’s mouth flattened, his regard narrowing to a squint. Amelia returned his stare placidly. He could stare—or glare, as it were—at her all he wanted. She didn’t give a whit, ignoring her heart knocking a frantic beat beneath her breastbone.

“It is also customary to knock before opening a closed door,” came the viscount’s glib reply.

“Might I remind you, my lord, it is ­I who resides in this house.” The gall of the man, trying to chastise her. Who told him he should situate himself thus? Hinges on doors were not meant as frivolous ornaments; they did have a purpose.

“Amelia is regrettably sorry,” her father hastily interjected.

.

Like hell she is! The bloody woman had probably parked herself outside waiting for the opportunity to bash his head in. Thomas wouldn’t put anything past her.

Tamping down his growing irritation, he replied smoothly, “Yes, Harry, I am quite certain she is.”

“I do hope I’m not preventing you from leaving. You were on your way out, were you not?” she asked in dulcet tones, a smile curving her lips.

If it had been any other woman, Thomas could have envisioned many other uses for such a mouth; plump lips the deep pink of a man’s erotic dreams. And if one were dealing purely in aesthetics, who could fail to appreciate the dark-haired beauty’s jaw-dropping figure shown to its best advantage in a gown the exact sapphire blue of her eyes, the fitted corsage allowing for the glorious display of creamy skin. But as stunning as she was, he wouldn’t have her if she begged him. Not that he would mind the begging part. That he would relish if only to have the pleasure of refusing her.

“Er…Thomas, thank you for calling. I expect I shall see you again before my departure.”

Thomas issued Harry a curt nod. “Yes, I expect you will.” He returned his attention to her. “And as always, Lady Amelia, it was a pleasure,” he said, managing to remain quite straight-faced, for surely Judas could not have told a grander lie.

For a brief moment, something sparked in her blue eyes, breathing life into the flawless, glacial beauty of her countenance and hinting at a slumbering fire. If he gave a damn—which he most assuredly did not—it’d give him cold satisfaction to see her icy hauteur reduced to a puddle on the floor.

“Well, as we are both well aware, if I claimed likewise it would be a blatant untruth.”

The cheeky little piece!

The sound of Harry’s sharp intake bounced off paned glass and dark paneled walls. “Amelia—”

Thomas held up his right hand to forestall Harry’s coming reprimand. She must always have the final word. God, he’d sooner strip naked and immerse himself in a vat of leeches then spend a minute in her company, which meant he’d already remained in her presence at least four minutes too long.

“That’s quite all right Harry. I certainly wouldn’t want your daughter to lie.”

“I’m glad we can agree on that,” she said tartly.

Not trusting himself to issue her another word—at least not a civil one—Thomas dipped his head in a shallow bow, giving her one final glance. Lord, what was it about her that always had his control splintering under the weight of her acerbic tongue? And just what was her grievance against him? In dealing with him, she was more than merely cold—as was her reputation—she wore the requisite pointed black hat and rode about perched on a broom like her sisters of the dark craft.

Women, ladies, matrons, the female population as a whole, simply did not despise him on sight.

Lady Amelia had.

Many claimed even children were not immune to his brand of wit and charm.

Lady Amelia most definitely was.

Annoyed at the direction of his thoughts, as if he gave a damn about her opinion, Thomas turned to address Harry. “I will see myself out. Good day, Harry…Lady Amelia.” He then calmly took his leave.