An Unlikely Alliance (2 page)

"When?" he asked, afraid of the answer.
Perhaps it was time to settle down. Being chased by crazed women
was hazardous to his health and growing tiresome. They had almost
torn him limb from limb tonight. Yes, marriage was beginning to
sound better every moment. One woman? How bad could it be? More
than likely he would be given at least a year to settle down.

"Before the spring ends," his mother
answered.

"As in…" He mentally calculated how many
months he had, and then felt the room shrinking around him. "As in
four months?"

His mother nodded. "Four months. Choose
wisely, son. Marriage is forever."

With that his tiny mother lifted herself out
of her chair and abruptly left him alone to suffocate in the tiny,
hot room. He had to get married in four months. His mind spun
frantically.

The two women he had been spending time with
recently both wanted to kill him, and there were no prospects
within hundreds of miles; had there been any, he would have courted
them already. If he was to be married in four months, he needed to
find a suitable girl. And fast.

****

Evelyn tried to calm the butterflies in her
stomach. The months of training had led to this moment. The moment
she would be presented to the richest and most powerful families in
American society.

Her father had paid the best tutors for the
past year, yet she still felt like she wasn't ready. You can't take
the farm out of the girl. It wasn't possible, not when one's whole
life revolved around said farm.

She still had her thick accent despite her
etiquette teacher's efforts to beat it out of her, literally. Every
time she said y'all she was smacked with a stick.

Needless to say, she had a lot of marks.

Crunching the silk dress between her
fingers, she marched into the giant ballroom and gasped. It was
everything she'd imagined! Her grin widened as she looked up and
noticed the giant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Everyone
was dancing splendidly. It was something out of her dreams.
Everywhere she looked there were pretty dresses and laughing
people.

It was her heaven.

Taking another steadying breath, she made
her away across the room to the only other person she knew in
attendance.

Her father.

"Aw, darlin', you are a sight!"

She twirled in front of him and tried to
ignore the wells of tears pooling in his eyes. "Daddy, this is
wonderful."

"I know, Babydoll. You just have yourself
some fun."

She nodded and walked off. To where, she
didn't know. It wasn't as if she knew a soul at the ball. The
family had been quite reclusive since selling everything back home
in Louisiana and moving to New York.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had
forgotten to eat again. It was hard to remember mealtimes when her
days were filled with so much instruction. There was also the
corset to worry about. It was so tight, she was afraid eating as
much as a pea would cause a tear in the dratted thing.

Maybe if she just looked at the food she
would feel better.

Evelyn glided to the table and gasped yet
again.

It was glorious.

Meat dishes filled every inch of the table,
making her mouth water. Oh, how she loved meat. Only as a tear
escaped the side of her eye did she realize she was actually crying
over food.

"I must say, this is a first," a deep voice
interrupted from behind her.

Closing her eyes, she turned around.

"Doubtful that closing your eyes will make
me disappear, though you're welcome to try," the voice drawled. A
faint British accent could be heard in the words.

Her girlish curiosity got the better of her.
She opened her eyes. And froze.

Staring back at her had to be the most
wicked-looking man on God's green earth.

Dark chocolate eyes, wavy black hair, and
deep-set dimples faced her.

Not one to swoon, she leaned on the nearest
stand of flowers and prayed it wouldn't crash to the floor.

"I don't think we've been introduced," she
said slowly, trying to dampen her Southern accent.

"I think I would have remembered," he
replied, bringing her hand up to his lips. His eyes held wicked
intent. Unfortunately, she was just the type of girl to let that
cause butterflies rather than warning signals in her body.

He stared at her longer than necessary,
causing her to feel uncomfortable. This man was obviously bad news.
"Your name?" he prompted.

She searched her head for the right answer.
Wasn't it improper to introduce herself? Wait, no, that was in
London. In America you could say your name without a chaperone
present, couldn't you? She opened her mouth to speak, and then she
snapped it shut. There were too many rules! What if she guessed
wrong?

He lifted an eyebrow in response, prodding
her into action.

"Evelyn De Jarlias. And you are?" She
scolded herself for being so forward.

"Whoever you want me to be," he crooned,
drawing closer.

"Oh. So you're one of those." The words were
out of her mouth before she had time to think. Oh well. She was
probably already going to make a mess of things with this one
anyway; may as well jump in with both feet.

"One of what?"

"A lady's man? A rake of the first order.
You know, the man who wants to be whatever the lady says just so he
can lift her skirts."

He had the good sense to blush.

"I'm not sure a lady of good breeding should
talk about skirt-lifting."

"And I'm not sure a gentleman should
acknowledge my shortcomings. And I'm not a lady. I mean, I'm a lady
as in I'm a female… Oh, drat!" He was biting his lip to keep from
laughing. "Never mind. Oh, I messed this up more than Betsy when
she trampled all our hens last fall."

"Hens?"

"Birds," she said, slowly enough for him to
understand.

Obviously he did because he looked quite put
out.

"Yes, I know what a bird is, Miss De
Jarlias, although I do appreciate any lessons having to do with the
animal kingdom. Do you by any chance want to discuss mating? I find
it fascinating."

"I'm sure you would find anything
fascinating if it had to do with making anyone within a safe
distance more aware of your sexual prowess," she quipped, then put
her hand over her mouth. There I go again.

He let out a burst of laughter. "Miss De
Jarlias, do you want to dance?"

"With you?" she clarified.

"Unless you want to go find—Betsy, was
it?"

She nodded, feeling slightly
lightheaded.

"Yes, well, I don't see her. I'm assuming
she's a cow or some sort of farm creature. So it looks like you're
stuck with me."

Speechless, she followed him onto the dance
floor for a waltz.

The music began, and she became lost in the
essence of what it felt like to live in a fairy tale. That is,
until Royce opened his mouth.

"So, when would be a good time to discuss
your odd habit of crying in front of food? Or was it just the meat
that set you off? I'm not here to pass judgment on a fellow lover
of all things carnal, mind you. I just find it interesting that you
were so moved by the delicacies in front of you, yet didn't take
even one, tiny, tempting bite.

Good Lord, it was hot in that ballroom.

She drew a shaky breath and laughed
awkwardly. "Well, I… that is…"

"Yes, please continue," he mocked.

"I'm not sure…" She rolled her eyes, giving
up the good fight of etiquette. "I can hardly squeeze myself into
my corset as it is. If I eat, I'll surely explode, and the first
thing to go would most likely be my dress, sending buttons popping
everywhere. I can see them now. Flying into people's champagne
glasses, putting out someone's eye. The damage could be quite
devastating. And the last thing I need is to embarrass my daddy."
The Southern accent was back full force, causing her to feel a
little better about life. Well, that and the fact she was dancing
with the most beautiful man she had ever met—even if he was sin
incarnate.

He looked away at the end of her little
confession.

Their little flirtation was over with, it
seemed.

The dance ended. She curtsied and turned
toward her father, but Royce grabbed her hand and pulled her back
into his embrace.

"I don't believe this is proper."

"What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "I mean, it isn't
proper for us to dance two dances in a row, sir."

"Oh." He nodded his head. "Right, then.
Follow me."

She had no other option but to follow, as he
literally dragged her through the crowd of curious onlookers and
outside onto a balcony.

"Well, that was rude." Wrenching her arm
free, she was half tempted to slap him across his
perfectly-chiseled jaw.

"Yes, well, we have unfinished
business."

"We do?" Her voice was a mixture of dread
and excitement. Curse her inability to look away from his alluring
eyes.

"Yes." His tone was clipped. Had she upset
him?

His eyes, now large and menacing, raked over
her entire body before he held out a single hand and touched the
side of her cheek, sending chills all the way down to her toes.

Chapter
Two

Oh, he was trouble. She could feel it in her
bones, could feel the way her entire body burned like it was on
fire. If one light touch sent her into fits of passion, then surely
more touching would lead…

"I need to go." Evelyn stepped around him,
almost reaching the door before she felt his hands on her hips.

His breath was hot on her neck as his
caressing whisper drawled, "I promise I'll feed you."

Just what was he going to feed her? More
likely she was to be the main course.

She stiffened, too hungry, and angry that he
would even try to seduce her upon their first meeting. "No."

"No?" His voice held astonishment.

"Yes. You do know the meaning of the word
no. Right?"

"People don't often use it in my
presence."

There's a surprise.

"Well, I'm putting my foot down and saying
no to you, right now."

"So what you're really saying is 'not right
now'?" He crooned into her neck again.

"No. What I'm saying is no. Not now—not
ever."

He had the audacity to laugh.

"So you mean yes?"

What was with this man? Was he that
dense?

She turned around, thinking that violence
would most likely be the best option at this point, and met
perfection yet again. His face, once smoldering with unbridled
passion, was now alive with humor and teasing.

She had to look away before she cracked.
Pushing back at the blond tendrils of hair which had escaped her
coiffure, she swallowed. "No, Royce. You may not seduce me."

"Oh, whatever shall I do?" he mocked, then
straightened and looked at her blankly. "You think I want to seduce
you?"

Now he was just being rude.

"Well…" It was obvious at that point that
she was completely unprepared for being launched into society.

And then, like a tiger stalking his prey, he
pounced, nearly scaring her out of her wits as he pulled her flush
against his hard body. "Trust me. You'll know, without a doubt,
when I'm trying to seduce you, my sweet. Shall I demonstrate?"

"Evelyn?" Her daddy's voice broke the
lustful spell that had so suddenly taken hold.

"Out here! I'm coming!" The voice escaping
her mouth was unrecognizable in its haze of lust.

Royce winked, then brought her hand to his
lips once again and kissed her hand tenderly before motioning for
her to take her leave.

****

Royce was still smiling minutes after Evelyn
left. She was more than a breath of fresh air. She was perfect. His
mother would go into joyful hysterics. In fact, he would bet his
fortune that not only would Evelyn be firmly secured by his family
by the end of the night, but his own mother would applaud his good
choice.

The February air crackled with excitement.
Although abnormally warm for this time in New York, it seemed to
come alive as he took one last deep breath before re-entering the
large dance hall. It was just as well that she left when she did.
He'd had half a mind to seduce the poor thing out on the balcony.
Then again, he had no idea who she was, only that she was
intriguing. Not enough to base marriage on for normal people.
However, he would not consider his situation normal.

Four months. That was his timetable, and he
had already mentally checked off at least half of the available
girls in New York from his list. The other half had a myriad of
tiny flaws that simply rubbed him the wrong way.

Much like his brothers also rubbed him the
wrong way, with their little idiosyncrasies and annoying
habits.

In fact, now that he thought on it, his
inability to commit to anything made sense. It was nearly
impossible for him to stay with the same woman for longer than a
month. He was like a child with a new toy. Once the excitement was
gone, it was time to move on. Suddenly it occurred to him why his
mistresses might also be put out by him. Maybe his lack of concern
was selfish, but he quite honestly didn't care. Women were just as
fickle as men, especially women who wanted protectors.

Upon entering the room, he spotted his
mother with an unfamiliar short, stout man. He appeared to be in
his late fifties. Hair was absent from his head, as well as any
sort of facial hair, making him resemble a shiny billiard ball.

Ignoring the longing glances from the young
ladies by the refreshments, he made his way across the room to his
mother and her companion.

"Ah, here he is now," he heard her say
before he bowed.

"May I introduce Stuart De Jarlias?"