Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (227 page)

The sting of her slap suggested the job in front of him would not be an easy one. The passion of her body's response to his said the task would not be without its rewards. She might have struck him, but he was not convinced she'd slapped him out of anger about his advances. Given her response to him, she'd struck him out of anger over her own behaviour. He was merely a convenient target.

However, he was willing to acknowledge that it had been the height of foolhardiness to seek her out alone, knowing that his emotions were ruling his better judgement. The thrill of seeing her again, of feeling her presence next to him at dinner, of watching her deal with Danforth, combined with the surge of jealously that coursed through him at seeing

His Bride

Canton lay claim to her, was too potent a mixture to swallow without consequence.

He'd meant to confess his feelings to her, to declare his devotion and even to explain away the events of their last evening together as the poor decisions of youth. He'd got nowhere with his agenda. Instead, he'd no doubt

all the sordid

that had

trickled back to London about him. Within moments they'd been sparring and then, his blood hot, he'd her in his arms and silenced her the only way he knew how. But his reckless

had been more consistent

the

to

the

he wanted to convince

he was, and had always

been, in spite of actions to the very persuasive contrary.

The
only
thing more senseless than kissing was standing out here in the cold, allowing Canton to hold

attention uncontested. Valerian pushed open the door and went inside. The battle was joined.

Lucien spied his return to the company as finished playing a pretty country piece. The small group clapped politely. 'Let us play our duet for them,' Lucien suggested to Philippa, sorting through the sheets of music until he found the one he was looking for. He gave Valerian a challenging look that could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was-a silent dare. Valerian returned the stare with a short nod of acknowledgement.

They executed the duet flawlessly. Valerian had known

was a dab hand at the pianoforte, but Lucien was the stronger of the two players. He wondered if Canton knew he played as well. The

Scott

49

piece flowed seamlessly, the four hands following each other to Lucien's trademark perfection.

Amid the brief applause at the end, Canton tossed him a smug look of satisfaction.

caught

him at it and gave Canton a hard look. Valerian was hard pressed to smother a laugh. Lucien didn't know well if he thought such masculine antics would go unpunished. She would make Canton pay and, he noted ruefully when her quick stare censured him as well, he would pay too.

'Anyone else care to play?' Lucien asked, once more the congenial host. Valerian doubted any of the other guests were aware of the currents flowing between the little triangle. It was tempting to play, but it was also petty. Valerian opted to refrain, but had different ideas. She caught his eye.

'Viscount St Just is quite accomplished if I remember correctly. Do you still play, St Just?'

'Yes, I do. It would be an honour to perform on such a fine instrument.' Valerian took the bench and flexed his

experimentally.

'I have some music.. . ' Canton began.

'I won't need any music,' Valerian said shortly and launched into a complicated scherzo that left the audience mesmerised.

'Magnificent! You've been training,' Beldon enthused afterwards. 'I'd forgotten how good you were.'

'Thank you,' Valerian said, rising from the bench.

He tossed a covert glance towards Canton, making sure the man understood he'd picked up the gauntlet.

The tea tray arrived, but no one lingered overlong.

50

The Viscount Claims His Bride

There would be much to do on the morrow to be ready for the evening's festivities. As everyone retired, Valerian stopped off at the library to select a book to read. few minutes later there were muffled footsteps on the Axminster carpet. He didn't need to turn around to know the newcomer was Lucien Canton. He'd expected as much. The problem with perfection was that it was often predictable.