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She glared back at him, her chin raised haughtily. She was as defiant as Hippolyta, the Queen of the Amazons, and just as fiercely exquisite. Her lips pulled back into a snarl, and a keen desire to taste that luscious mouth washed over him.

“You keep saying that like it is your only excuse,” she flung back at him. “Maybe that is the only excuse you have.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. He knew she was going to be difficult, but Evie was proving to exceed his expectations in that aspect.

“Maybe that is all the excuse I need.” He shrugged.

For a moment, they stood there, glaring at each other. Locked in a battle of wills.

Evie was much too innocent and trusting to be left on her own. With men like Sidmouth after her, leaving her to maneuver the intricacies of the Season was like throwing a duckling into a den of snakes.

Like hell Daniel was going to allow something like that to happen.

“Tell me, Your Grace,” she asked him, “have you ever managed a debutante’s coming out before?”

He frowned. “No.”

“Have you ever accompanied one through a Season?”

“I cannot say I have.”

“Have you ever considered marrying one?”

His eyebrows snapped together. Her questions were getting more outrageous by the minute, and he could hardly see the point in them.

“You must be out of your mind,” he scoffed.

He had no intention of marrying anyone—debutante or otherwise. If she harbored any delusions about that…

“Then what makes you think that this”—she gestured towards him in frustration—“well, whatever it is you think you are doing will produce the best outcome?” She stepped up to him and glared haughtily at him. “You are most unqualified to tell me what to do, as well as how and when to do it!”

By now, she was close enough that he could see her bosom heaving from her passionate speech and her pupils dilating in the darkness. He was close enough to catch the scent of that soft, undeniably feminine fragrance that emanated from her body.

If he reached out, he could drag her to him and kiss those words right off her lips.

It was a most tempting idea, but Daniel liked to think he had better control of his baser desires, and he was not about to let a self-proclaimed debutante who hardly left her country estate entice him into it.

“Oh, I think I am more than qualified, sweetheart,” he drawled silkily, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Have you forgotten that I have a reputation for devouring naive young ladies like you who wander off into the dark unchaperoned?”

He heard the soft intake of her breath, saw the sudden realization dawning in her eyes.

“Y-you would not dare,” she squeaked.

He smiled at her, feeling his feral instincts rise to the fore at the sudden meekness of her tone.

“You will find that I do dare to do whatever the hell I want.”

He took one step forward. She took one backward.

“You might be in your element in the ballroom, but out here, you have been grossly outclassed, Evie.”

He took another step forward. And then another. Until he had her back pressed against a marble column. He braced his arm over her head as he leered down at her, allowing the dark lust to swirl openly in his eyes.

He had not lied to her when he told her that he had never been with a debutante—their nigh-on endless, vapid prattling and inexperience were more than enough to discourage a man’s lust. Daniel himself had rather… peculiar tastes, and the gently bred young ladies of thetonwere not his usual fare.

Tastes that would shock Evie to her very core.

Which was why he had absolutely no idea why this particular lady aroused him so much. She was everything he did not want. Should not want.