Page 49 of Dangerous

“Bargain?” Adam repeated warily.

“Are you afraid to bargain with me?”

He stared at her.

She crossed her arms and stared back.

Adam cast his eyes ceilingward. “Fine. A bargain.”

She gave him a smile that told him there’d never been any doubt in her mind he would yield. Adam had just been outmaneuvered, and the unusual feeling was not one he enjoyed.

“Bartering is the way of things in Oran. We will trade questions for answers. You will tell me what I want to know and I will tell you what I did to you on our wedding night. Or perhaps I could show you?” Her green eyes smoldered.

Adam ignored her attempt to distract him, even if his cock did not. He gave her a bored shrug. “I will answer one of your questions in exchange for three of my own.”

“Three for two.”

“Two for three.”

“An even exchange.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, an even exchange.”

Her smile was triumphant and Adam realized she would have taken two for three. Minx.

“Shall we spit on our palms and shake hands?”

Adam grimaced. “What a revolting suggestion. Is that another custom from the sultan’s palace?”

“No, that is what Cian and I did to seal a pact when we were children.”

“Spit will not be necessary. I shall take you at your word.” He held out his glass. She gave him a skeptical look and he scowled. “Don’t tease yourself—I shan’t lose consciousness again. Although it sounds as if you were able to find some sort of entertainment in the matter.”

Rather than answer, she leaned back and subjected him to a thorough examination while she considered her line of attack. Her eyes glinted with clever, cunning plans and he suppressed a groan. Why had he agreed to this?

As usual she did the unexpected. “I have heard, twice now, that you are very skilled with a sword. I would like to watch you.”

He took a sip of wine to hide his surprise—and his pleasure. What man didn’t like feminine admiration?

“That was not a question,” he pointed out.

She gave him the same look she’d given him the night of her ball, when he’d mentioned her notorious dance. He decided he would label this look the “Menacing Kitten Stare.”

“Very well.” He held up one hand in surrender. “Whom shall I call out, Lady Exley?”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling.

It was like being punched in the chest. But in a good way. Christ. He was a pitiful, pitiful man.

Still chuckling, she shook her head. “That will not be necessary. I should just like to see you spar? I think that is the term—spar?” Her eyes roamed his body in a manner that made him think of other forms of sparring.

He shifted on his cushion. “You wish to see me spar?”

She nodded.

“You couldn’t go to Beauleaux’s—”

“What is Beauleaux’s?”