JORDAN Nicole (20 page)

“This was a m-mistake, your grace.”

A flame had kindled in the depths of his eyes, but his expression was as cool and enigmatic as ever.

Still dazed, she struggled to restore her clothing to order, feeling like the wanton she knew she had to look.

The duke said not a word as he pulled out a linen handkerchief from his coat pocket. His fingers were soaked with her essence, Roslyn saw to her mortification. The heated flush on her face rose when he wiped his fingers dry.

“I agree,” he said finally, his smile sardonic. “This was a mistake.”

The husky rasp in his voice stroked her nerve endings, reminding her that she had aroused him almost as much as he had aroused her.

Lord preserve her, Roslyn thought frantically, she had to put an end to this temptation. Certainly she couldn’t continue such intimate sessions with him. It was far too dangerous.

“We shouldn’t have any further lessons,” she said, her voice uneven.

A muscle in his jaw flexed, as if he might object, but all he said was, “Indeed.”

He returned the handkerchief to his pocket and stood. When he took a step toward her, though, Roslyn retreated.

His mouth curled. “You needn’t fear, darling. My intentions are somewhat honorable this time. Turn around and let me hook your gown. You don’t want your servants to see you looking so disheveled.”

She didn’t want him coming near her again, either, but she couldn’t manage the hooks easily on her own.

Reluctantly, she turned her back to him and held herself rigid as he performed the service of lady’s maid.

When he was done, he paused with his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “You should definitely contrive to kiss Haviland. He won’t be able to resist you. Good day, Miss Loring.”

Roslyn couldn’t bring herself to answer or even to look at Arden as he let himself out of the library. When he was gone, she stood there trembling and cursing herself.

How could she have allowed his lesson in kissing to go so far? She’d lost any shred of common sense the moment his lips touched hers.

She could never let him make love to her. She had absolutely no intention of losing her innocence before her wedding night. She was saving herself for marriage, for a loving husband who would cherish her for the rest of their lives.

Yet she couldn’t deny the maddening desire the duke roused in her so effortlessly.

Roslyn shut her eyes, recalling her response to his erotic kisses, how she had come alive in his arms, all yearning hunger. The tremulous pulsing that still heated her body was a clear reminder that she was in deep trouble.

Moving to a chair, she sank down and raised a shaking hand to her temple. Her head still swam with drugged pleasure, her heart still pounded thickly. It was no wonder Arden was renowned as a marvelous lover. She had no doubt that he could make women weep with delight. He had the power to compel any woman to surrender, towant his possession….

But a rakish nobleman like the duke was only interested in physical pleasure, not love or marriage or children.

She had absolutely no future with him, and she would be an utter fool to let herself think otherwise.

No, Roslyn vowed. After this, she would keep far, far away from the Duke of Arden. Certainly she would never again ask him to give her any more lessons in seduction!

Chapter Nine

==================================

ABC Amber LIT Converter v2.02

==================================

It is appalling to realize how easily he can make me behave like a perfect wanton.

—Roslyn to Fanny

“Where have you been, Roslyn dear?” Winifred demanded over the din of the crowded ballroom. “I expected you an hour ago.”

“Some matters at home required my attention,” Roslyn replied, which was only partly true. She had arrived late to the Haviland ball chiefly to avoid one particular arousing nobleman. She hadn’t wanted to face Arden after their fervent embrace in the library last week.

In fact, she hadn’t seen him since, and would have eschewed tonight’s ball altogether except that she’d promised Lord Haviland she would attend.

“You missed the reception line,” Winifred’s raucous voice sounded over the musicians and the throng of guests. “But it is turning out to be a fine party.”

It was indeed a veritable crush—a sure sign of success. Roslyn was pleased for Lord Haviland, although she would have preferred less noise and heat. The blaze from myriad glittering chandeliers overhead, combined with the press of so many splendidly garbed bodies, made the ballroom almost oppressive.

Yet before Roslyn could reply, Winifred took her to task. “I am disappointed in you, my girl. First you arrive late, then you hide yourself on the sidelines. That is not what balls are for. You should be dancing.”

“It is too warm to dance,” Roslyn replied, fanning herself with the gilded fan she wore looped at her wrist.

“Pah,” her friend scoffed. “You can bear a little warmth for one evening. But you need a partner.” Winifred searched the crowd. “I wonder where Arden is. He was kind enough to escort me here, but then he disappeared into one of the card rooms shortly after we arrived.”

Roslyn bit back her exasperation at Winifred’s continued matchmaking efforts. “Thank you, Winifred, but I can manage my own affairs.”

“His friend, that handsome Marquess of Claybourne, is here also, although I haven’t seen him lately. It is too bad Lily couldn’t come tonight. ’Struth, I cannot believe she elected to go to Hampshire just now. The marquess is such an eligibleparti .”

Roslyn hesitated to reply. Lily had set out for London last week to stay at Fanny’s boardinghouse, but she hadn’t wanted their meddlesome patron to know her whereabouts. Lily had no desire to be the victim of Winifred’s machinations or to be thrown at Lord Claybourne’s head again.

“You know Lily doesn’t care for balls, Winifred,” Roslyn said carefully. “She would much rather be visiting friends at our old home in Hampshire.”

Which was technically true, even if that was merely the fabrication Lily wanted to use to misdirect Winifred.

Roslyn almost wished she had accompanied her sister to London, for then she wouldn’t be bedeviled by a certain other handsome nobleman. As it was, the duke was befuddling her thoughts and playing total havoc with her peace of mind. She didn’t want to remember their last encounter, how Arden had kissed her and caressed her and led her into a whirlpool of sensation that left her dazed and aching.

She was rudely brought back to the present, however, when she realized Winifred was speaking again. “…you wait here, I will fetch the duke so he can partner you.”

Dismayed at the thought of having to dance with Arden, Roslyn shook her head. “Pray excuse me, Winifred, but I had best find Lord Haviland and make my apologies.”

Hurriedly she moved away, searching the crowd for the earl. She felt fortunate to spy him at one end of the ballroom, but then frowned to realize he was surrounded by a group of adoring young ladies—her competition, Roslyn surmised.

She had made little progress thus far in her campaign to win Haviland, for he’d spent much of his time in London this past week at his grandmother’s behest. In the interval, Roslyn had met twice more with his housekeeper and butler to plan the menus for the evening, but she’d had no opportunity for intimacy with the earl, except when he’d politely brushed a kiss to her fingers upon saying farewell at her second visit. And tonight he was occupied with playing host.

When she drew closer, however, she could see that not all the ladies in his party were young; one was positively ancient. She suspected that was Haviland’s elderly grandmother, for whom he claimed to bear a great fondness. When the venerable dame struck him on his arm with her fan, he threw back his dark head and laughed.

Not wishing to attempt a seduction in front of so many witnesses, Roslyn decided to wait to approach Haviland. When she detoured to the refreshment table to find a glass of punch, she passed by the open French doors and caught a waft of cool evening breeze. Wistfully Roslyn wondered how soon she could slip away from the ball. She had walked across the rear lawns of their adjoining estates rather than summon a carriage, not only to spare the servants the trouble, but so she could retreat easily if need be. She couldn’t politely take her leave for at least another hour, though.

At the moment, she couldn’t even have a comfortable coze with Tess Blanchard, since Tess was pleasantly occupied dancing. A fellow teacher at the academy, Tess had been one of the Loring sisters’ closest friends for the past four years, ever since they moved to the neighborhood to live with their step-uncle. And like the Loring sisters, Tess found herself hard-pressed to avoid Winifred’s meddlesome matchmaking.

A number of people nodded and spoke politely to Roslyn as she advanced through the crowd, and Roslyn responded with similar politeness. She didn’t dislike balls as Lily did—or deliberately flout conventions as Lily relished doing—but she cared little for the shallow trappings of the ton, and the rampant hypocrisy galled her. These very people had gleefully shunned the Loring girls until a few months ago, when their step-uncle died and Marcus had assumed their guardianship along with the title.

The scandals had hurt her sisters even more than herself, Roslyn reflected as she stood drinking punch on the sidelines. Arabella had suffered not only a broken betrothal but a broken heart. And Lily had encased her heart in a wall of ice, determined never to let anyone close enough to wound her. Lily’s reckless, devil-may-care manner, however, hid a sensitive, vulnerable nature, Roslyn knew. So if she could protect her younger sister from Winifred’s amorous schemes, she would do so. Just as she would protect herself from the Duke of Arden—

Speak of the devil.

Her heart fluttered alarmingly when she spied him across the ballroom. He cut a commanding figure, dressed in formal finery—black coat and gold brocade waistcoat, pristine white cravat and white satin breeches—that accentuated his fair good looks.

Determinedly Roslyn ignored the pleasure rising inside her at the mere sight of him. But when he locked gazes with her, capturing and holding her with no more than a look, she couldn’t help remembering the last time they were together. The feel of him lying hard and aroused beneath her. His warm lips that had plied hers to such devastating effect. His skillful hands that had played over her bare skin, searching out her feminine secrets.

A flush heated her cheeks as they stared at each other. He didn’t need to touch her now to make her spellbound, Roslyn thought with a sudden breathlessness. The flicker of awareness in his green eyes set her pulse racing deplorably.

It was with supreme effort that Roslyn tore her gaze away now. She felt a wave of gratitude when she saw Lord Haviland approaching her, and thus was unusually effusive when she apologized for her tardiness.

“Think nothing of it, Miss Loring,” the earl said with a smile. “But I was hoping you would come so I could thank you. Your advice regarding my ball was invaluable.”

“I was glad to help.”

“My grandmother claims to be impressed with my efforts, and she is remarkably difficult to please. I should like to introduce you to her, if you would allow me.”

Roslyn glanced back at the elderly lady. “I would enjoy meeting her,” she said, feeling a warm little glow at the honor.

When Lord Haviland asked her to dance the next set, she accepted readily and let him lead her onto the floor for a quadrille. She knew she should begin a flirtation with him, yet she was too aware that the duke was watching her on the sidelines. No doubt that was why being this near Haviland didn’t affect her pulse rate as she expected, and why she felt no lightning-spark of pleasure at touching him when their hands came together.

Fortunately, Haviland was less tongue-tied than she. When the movements of the dance allowed, he carried on a conversation.

“I must think of some suitable reward for your help, Miss Loring. Will you accompany me on a drive tomorrow morning?”

Roslyn was delighted by the invitation but knew of his plans for a weeklong houseparty. “Are you certain you wish to leave your houseguests? I thought your grandmother and other relatives were staying with you for the week.”

“They are, but I will be glad to escape them for a time. My grandmother is one of my few relations whose good opinion I care about, and she will likely remain abed until noon after the exertions of the evening. Her health is not what it was.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Roslyn replied politely.

Haviland’s mouth curved wryly. “She is not at death’s door yet, as she wants me to believe. I think she exaggerates the severity of her spells just so she can make me dance to her tune. She claims she is waiting for me to choose a bride and settle down before she goes to meet her Maker.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Did his telling her about his grandmother’s desires have any implication for her? “Oh? And do you mean to comply with her wishes?”

The smile he flashed her was very appealing. “It is an ongoing battle, but I expect she will win in the end.”

Lord Haviland spoke fondly about his grandmother then, and afterward, Roslyn found it far easier to enter into a lighthearted banter with him, just as she had practiced. And soon she discovered that Haviland was rather skilled at the art of flirtation himself.

When she asked teasingly if his grandmother must approve his choice of brides, he replied with an emphatic no. “Even though I would like to please her, that is one decision I intend to make for myself. But she will be impressed that I am dancing with the most beautiful lady in the room.”

Roslyn laughed up at him with pleasure—until she once again saw Arden watching her, his green eyes heavy-lidded and intent. He was leaning one shoulder against a column in a relaxed pose, yet she had the impression he wasn’t relaxed in the least. Instead, he looked almost…disapproving.

With a slight toss of her head, Roslyn ordered herself to stop dwelling on the vexing duke and returned to her flirtation with Lord Haviland.

His eyes narrowing, Drew watched as Roslyn gracefully moved through the steps of the dance. He felt a lurch in the vicinity of his chest when she laughed up at Haviland.