Lady Lissa's Liaison (17 page)

She was stunned. "So this is how the night is to end?" she asked, angry beyond words. "You dare sweep into my midst, order up a waltz,
kiss
me for all to see, then spirit yourself away without so much as a by-your-leave?"

"Do not look so astonished. After all, you would not have chosen me had you not had an inkling as to how thoroughly improper I can be. I merely played along with your game. You should be quite pleased with the turn of events this evening. I gave you exactly what you wished for—a tempest in a teapot, a liaison to outdo any and all before it. As I see it, you should be thanking me."

Lissa felt embarrassed, angry, and confused to boot. "You have abused me most hideously," she whispered, almost unable to form the words. Her lower lip trembled, so close to tears was she.

Something in Wylde's gaze shifted then. It was almost as if he was sorry for his actions, but she couldn't be certain.

He paused, staring at her long and deeply, as though drinking in every nuance of her features. Lissa sensed keenly then that a part of Wylde hadn't wanted to come here at all... and that perhaps a part of him did not want to be standing alone with her in the hallway just now because he was afraid of what might happen between them.

Surprising her own self, Lissa whispered, "I have to wonder what it cost you to step back into the midst of your former peers... to come out of your reclusive hiding. By the look on your face, I would wager it has cost you greatly. I am sorry for that, my lord. I never meant to invade your life, to alter it in any huge way... but, clearly, I have done just that."

"Aye," he whispered, nodding, his voice suddenly sounding odd, uneven, "you have altered my life. God's truth."

Apropos of nothing, Wylde framed Lissa's face with his hands. He looked into her eyes for a fraction of a moment, offering her time enough in which to push him away or slap him for his forwardness. She did neither. Instead, she gazed up into those black, fathomless eyes of his, and then held perfectly still. In the span of a heartbeat, he brought his mouth to hers, gently, reverently.

Unlike the kiss he'd stolen on the terrace, or the ones she'd responded to in his river hut,
this
kiss was altogether something different. It had nothing to do with frightening her away, was not meant to make a statement to her guests.

This kiss, Lissa intuitively felt, was a glimpse of the sweetness behind the cold facade of the Heartless One. His mouth over hers proved as soft as a spring shower, as luscious as apples in season, and as thrilling as dancing the waltz for the first time with a man who could take one's breath away.

Lissa tilted her face up, caught in the pure pleasure of Wylde's unexpected onslaught. Slowly, his lips moved over hers, tasting every dreg of nectar she possessed, eliciting from her the deepest of reactions.

Unhurried and unplanned, the kiss sealed something unspoken between the two of them. Alone in the hall, with no one to judge or to intervene, both she and his lordship seemed to give of themselves.

For Lissa, 'twas a kiss that waxed their fate, melding them together.... For the first time in her life she felt as though she'd crossed an invisible line into adulthood.

Wylde slowly broke the contact, lifting his face slightly.

"My lord?" Lissa whispered, her mind pleasantly hazy, her insides all aquiver.

"Sshh," he murmured, touching one finger to her lips. "Say nothing. Not just yet." His gloved finger traced the outline of her mouth. "Do you know how beautiful you are when you look at me like this?"

"Like what, m'lord?" she breathed, transfixed.

"As though you have viewed a bit of heaven... and as though you are not judging me—my character—as everyone else at your assemblage has done this night."

"I—I can hardly stand in judgment of you given what I've allowed to transpire between us."

"Aye, but you could and for that very reason. But you haven't. That, Lissa, is what I find most refreshing about you."

"I take it you feel you—you have been judged too harshly in your life," she hazarded.

Wylde dropped his hands to his sides, stepping back, then let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "One could say that."

"My father always warned me those of the
ton
could be wicked with their whisperings."

"A perceptive man, your father."

With bald honesty, she said, "I think, had my father ever met you, he would have made pains to get to know you better, sir."

It seemed that a sharp pang rippled through Wylde. "I would like to believe that, Lissa. And please, call me Gabriel. God's truth, I do not think it would be improper. In fact, I think it would be quite fine."

Lissa's heart trembled. "As in Gabriel, the archangel, the heavenly spirit?"

He shook his dark head. "Ah, no, Lissa. As in Gabriel, the man I am—flawed and imperfect... and the very one who came this night to aid your plot, for good or ill."

As though all this talk of his person and his past made him uncomfortable, Wylde made the final motions to take his leave. "Return to your guests, Lissa," he said to her. "Use to your advantage whatever you can of what the two of us have set in motion this day." With that, he turned, opened the front door, and was gone just as quickly and abruptly as he'd arrived.

Lissa moved out onto the stoop, feeling the cool night air steal over her body as she watched the sixth Earl of Wylde head off into the dark night, being met immediately by one of her ever-ready stablehands. Too soon Wylde's mount was brought forth, and she saw nothing but a cloud of dust kicked up into a sliver of moonlight as she watched Gabriel's shadow mix with the depths of darkness.

Amazingly, Lissa felt like crying and smiling all at once. Felt, in fact, as though she'd never be the same again....

A long while later, Lissa made her way back inside. The musicians were between sets, and her many guests were milling about, talking amongst themselves.

Lissa did not need to be told what their topic of conversation might be.

Aunt Prudence came beside her. "My dear, sweet Lissa, what
ever
are you about this night? Have you gone daft—or are you truly falling in love with the man? No, don't say it. 'Tis written all over your face. You
are
in love. Or close enough to it."

Lavinia, looking flushed, chose that moment to sidle up beside Prudence and Lissa.

"Oh, Lis, just
look
at you! You are positively glowing! Do tell what it was like to be held in his lordship's arms. I don't care a whit of what I've heard whispered about the man this night, Lis, he is positively handsome and—and, well, he appears to be just the sort of person you've dreamt about!"

"Vinnie,
" Lissa whispered, finally coming to life. "Do keep your voice down. Do you think I wish all to hear?"

"No, no, of course you don't. And never fear, Lis, even though you and his lordship will be the latest
on dit
on the morrow, I think it is absolutely thrilling that the two of you seem not to care what the world thinks! How very wonderful that you've found a man who cares not what the Polite World thinks. He simply had eyes only for you, Lis. What woman wouldn't want such a man to fawn over her? This is the best birthday gift I could ever imagine; for my bosom-bow to finally find the perfect
parti."

Lissa blinked the dream clouds from her head that Gabriel had created, and then stared at both her aunt and her best friend. But she really didn't have anything to say on her own behalf, and certainly could not find it within her heart to refute their statements that she'd fallen in love with the sixth Earl of Wylde.

The truth of the matter was, she didn't know
how
she felt about Gabriel.

Was this what love felt like? Did one actually feel like dancing and dying all at the same time? She had no idea.

What Lissa needed was time alone to sort out all the thoughts now spinning through her head. She needed to ponder and thoroughly absorb all that had happened this day, needed time to perhaps write in her journal of her feelings, make a list of her options, and maybe even to sketch.

Unfortunately, now wasn't the time. She had a room filled with guests to worry about.

Much to Lissa's discomfort, the musicians decided then to play another set, and Lord Langford, descending upon her like a moth to a flame, was at her side even before the second note was struck.

"I believe, Lady Lissa, that this dance is mine," he said, bowing graciously before her.

Prudence and Lavinia backed away, Lavinia's hand soon being claimed by Chesney, and Aunt Prudence deciding to oversee that the refreshments were replenished.

Lissa looked up at Lord Langford. With his wheat blond hair and fair coloring he had at one time caused her to think of a gilded angel. Now that she'd met Lord Wylde, however, that comparison had changed. Though Langford was extraordinarily handsome, he did not illicit within Lissa any of the feelings Gabriel caused to stir and then flare inside of her. Though so far polite and kind in her presence, he neither pleased nor intrigued Lissa... and he did not make her heart flutter as Gabriel could.

Even so, Lissa danced with him. She knew she must put a bandage on all the hurtful gossip brewing. Now that Gabriel had taken his leave, she must somehow repair the damage the two of them had wrought.

"You seem preoccupied, Lady Lissa," Langford said, as they went through their steps.

"Do I?" Lissa replied. "Forgive me. I do not mean to."

"Do not tell me your thoughts are still with Wylde."

"Very well then, I shan't."

Langford inclined his head, studying Lissa's countenance. "Lord Wylde is a black mark on good society. He is not to be trusted, my lady."

"Is this a warning on your part, sir?" Lissa asked, her blood beginning to boil.

Langford obviously realized he was treading thin ice with her. "No warning... not unless it needs to be. But I take it that you, my lady, are not so foolhardy as to allow yourself to become prey to Wylde's savage ways."

"Savage? Surely you are too strong in your choice of words, my lord."

Langford dipped his head closer to hers. "The man's would-be bride sliced her wrists shortly after he left her standing alone at the altar," he said, obviously intending to appall Lissa with the tale. "Doubtless you've heard the tales, my lady."

Lissa stiffened. "I have heard," she said woodenly, refusing to believe that anyone who could kiss her so sweetly could harbor such darkness as to intentionally do harm to another person. "But since I know nothing about the woman Lord Wylde was to have married, and given the fact I know very little about the man he is, I shall not make any assumptions about what transpired in the past, sir."

Langford frowned. "Then I must be so bold as to suggest you take care whenever Wylde is about, Lady Lissa. He has blackened the name of more than one female. I would hate for you to suffer a similar fate."

"Do be assured, Lord Langford, that my parents did not raise a foolish daughter."

"Touché,"
he replied, an odd, almost plotting, smile on his lips.

The set soon ended. Lissa thankfully backed away from him, then made a motion to move off the dance floor.

Langford stopped her with just a touch. "Though Lord Wylde's presence has caused me to rue a part of this night, I have decided that the evening has not been a total loss for me."

"Oh?" Lissa said, not at all understanding his meaning.

"My locket," Langford explained. "You have yet to return it. To be wholly honest, that truth buoys my spirits and leads me to believe there is possibly hope for me still in your estimation."

Lissa's right hand fluttered toward her neck. The dratted locket! It was what had brought her such unlucky luck—and it was the very excuse she would use to meet with Gabriel tomorrow at dawn.

"Ah, yes... your locket. We—we must talk about that, m'lord."

"When?" Langford pressed, far too anxious.

"Soon," Lissa promised.
Sooner than you'd like, I'll wager,
she thought. "Until then, my lord?" she murmured, and before Langford could gainsay her, Lissa moved away, intending to be unavailable to him for the remainder of the evening. She had Gabriel on her mind—in fact, she could not get him
out
of her mind.

Would Gabriel hold true to his vow in helping her hook the trout that had eaten Langford's locket? Or might he consider his promise null and void due to her duplicitous plot of intending to align her name with his? Lissa had no idea. What she
hoped
was that her encounter with Lord Wylde this night had not enraged him so much that he would abandon their endeavor to catch the wily trout both of them sought.

But would he even be at the river come dawn?

Perhaps more importantly,
should she be so bold as to be there?

It would be daring of her to make a showing alongside the Dove early tomorrow morning, given the kiss he'd stolen for all to see, coupled with the more intimate kiss they had shared while at the front door of the manor.

Perhaps his lordship was just playing some sort of dangerous game with her and her virtue, a part of him wondering how far she would dare to tread along the path of thoroughly shredding her reputation.