Laughing again, he swung her in a circle before she could prevent it. “Priceless. Absolutely priceless.” His eyes were glowing as he set her back down. “I adore how you cut me down to size so skillfully.”

Automatically, Hannah smoothed down her skirt. “I’m sure you’ve mistaken my intent.”

“The devil I have. That’s what delights me about you.”

The frustrated look she gave him had nothing to do with the role she was playing. Delighting him had never been part of the plan. She was there to observe, to cement her position and to carry out a plan that was years in the making. Never before had the proper Lady Hannah had to worry about piquing a man’s interest. Even as she calculated how to cancel it out again, he was reaching for her.

“Your hair’s falling down.” In a casual move he plucked a loose pin that was dangling near her shoulder. “My fault for not putting the top up.”

“I must look as though I’ve been through a hurricane.” She reached up to put the practical hairstyle back in place. Pins fell out in her hand, loosened by wind and weight. Even as she swore silently, her hair tumbled free, waterfalling past her shoulders to her waist.

“Mon Dieu.” Before she could twist her hair back, Bennett had filled both hands with it. Twined around his fingers it was deep, honey blond and soft as silk. He stared, thunderstruck, by the transformation. It waved wild and free around her face, accenting the slash of cheekbones that only looked hard and angular without the framing. Her face no longer seemed thin and bony, but exotic. “C’est magnifique. C’est la chevelure d’un ange.”

With her heart pounding, she tried to ignore what she saw in his eyes. It wasn’t innocent delight or casual attraction now. Now there was desire, man for woman, basic, strong and as dangerous as the sea in a storm. She couldn’t move back from him for his hands were buried in her hair. She couldn’t deny the lunge of her own needs as he kept her close.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Even now she could tell herself it couldn’t happen. Yet she wanted to be held by him, to be comforted, to be, though the words sounded foolish in her mind, cherished. Desired, needed, loved. All of those things were against the rules, but she found it hard to pull back.

“Angel hair,” Bennett repeated in a whisper. “Why does a woman bind beauty up and hide it?”

No, she couldn’t deny what was happening inside her, but she could, as she’d been trained, deny herself. “It’s more practical worn up.” She lifted her hands to scoop it from his and met resistance.