Page 16 of Venus in Disguise

The blush scalded her cheeks as she held his gaze. His intense regard stripped her bare, his words proved he had her measure, that he knew what she was about and thought her despicable, no doubt. Their exchange suddenly appeared in a far different light, his teasing banter no longer amusing, his opinion of her exactly what she had first believed it to be. To her dismay, tears pricked at her eyes.

“Excuse me,” she said tightly, and fled, pushing her way blindly through the crowd.

“Damnation,” Ash cursed, as Lady Narcissa ran from him.

“You rotten bastard,” Muir said in a savage whisper. “What the hell has got into you?” he demanded.

“Shut up. You don’t understand,” Ash replied tersely, shoving his glass into Muir’s hand. “I thought she did, but… bloody hell.”

He hurried after Narcissa, no easy feat, as unlike her he could not elbow people out of the way, especially not ladies. At least his height gave him the advantage of seeing over the crowd, so he could track the direction in which that head of bright blonde hair moved. To his dismay, she went to the back of the house, leaving the main rooms. Ash cursed as he was waylaid by Mrs Travers, a friend of his last mistress, Mrs Crawford. She had been angling to get him to herself ever since he had ended that affair. It took all his diplomacy and a promise to call on her the following week before he could get away.

By the time he was free, there was no sign of Narcissa, though when he followed the corridor to its end, the door leading outside was not quite shut. Looking around to be certain no one was watching, Ash turned the handle and stepped outside into the frigid night. He blinked in the darkness, for the terrace was unlit, their hostess having assumed no one would be witless enough to dally outside on such a freezing night as this.

Nonetheless, it was easy to find her huddled against the corner of the terrace. She was crouching down, her skirts billowing around her, her back to the brick wall of the house, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. Ash stepped cautiously closer, approaching her as he might something wild, likely to flee if he moved too quickly.

“My lady?” he said, but she did not look up, only stared ahead, into the dark.

She looked fragile and very alone. His heart felt squeezed with regret for having treated her so unkindly.

Ash crouched down in front of her, so they were almost level, and she was forced to meet his gaze.

“And here I was thinking you were clever enough to understand what I was saying,” he said reproachfully.

She let out a little huff of laughter, though it was not a happy sound. “I understand perfectly,” she said, her voice dull. “You despise me for pretending to be witless, for wanting to catch a husband my father will approve of. One I can bend to my will,” she added bitterly. “Not that I blame you, I rather despise myself for it too.”

“Then you were not paying proper attention,” he said crisply. “So perhaps you are not as clever as I’d believed.”

As he’d hoped, it was the right tack to take. If he’d been too kind, she would have been suspicious, disbelieved him, but now her eyes narrowed, glaring. Ash smiled.

“Well, personally, I can’t stand over-sweet desserts,” he told her frankly. “Too syrupy and dull. Offer me something sharp that makes my mouth water, however… something with a tart surprise to shock my senses, well, that’s another matter.”

His voice was low now, coaxing, as he stood and offered her his hand.

After a moment of hesitation, she took it, her small fingers curling about his and sending that unwelcome snap of electricity dancing over his skin. Unsettled by the connection, he pulled her a little too hard and she stumbled towards him. Ash steadied her with a hand on her waist, viscerally aware of how delicate she was. His gaze fell to her mouth, which was parted in a silent gasp of surprise. Plush and soft, her lips were the sweetest temptation, a perfect cupid’s bow above, a lush, generous curve beneath. Unconsciously, Ash licked his lips, aware he ought to take his hands from her, ought to step back, but quite unable to do so.

“Do you mean that?” she asked, studying his face so intently he wondered what it was she sought, and if she’d found it.

He nodded, unwilling to speak, for he was afraid of what he might say. If it were another woman here, he would do all in his considerable power to seduce her, as he badly wanted to do. Her petite frame was a delectable landscape of curves, a temptation created by Lucifer himself to make men stupid. He was not stupid, he told himself, but his brain was being overridden by the unruly part of him that did precisely as it wished, no matter the consequences. Yet this was no neglected wife or lonely widow, but a maiden.

Unfortunately, Narcissa seemed blithely unaware of the strain she was placing upon his instincts as a gentleman. She must be, or else she would not have courted danger so readily, reaching out a hand and sliding her fingers down his chest, over the silken fabric of his waistcoat.

“Truly? You… You weren’t mocking me?”

“Well,” Ash replied, his voice too low, the seductive tones he reserved for his lovers too easy to give her, despite his best efforts. “Maybe I was mocking you a little, but only in the hope you would return the compliment. Sparring with a woman with a brain in her head is a most… invigorating exercise, you see.”

Step back, he willed her silently. Behave as every governess and every book on propriety must surely tell you and run.

She didn’t run. The foolish chit moved closer. Her skirts rustled provocatively about his legs, a froth of petticoats and skirts sliding against him. Both palms pressed against his chest now and he felt the heat of them through the layers of silk and linen as though she branded him, leaving a mark upon his skin that marked her property. Be damned to that, he thought irritably, but he did not remove her hands from his chest.

“I am not your quarry,” he reminded her, in case she had forgotten. “I am not the kind of man to dance to your tune, and your father thinks me a half-breed. You ought not be here, with me, Lady Narcissa.”

The words were coolly delivered, hard and matter of fact, though Ash was not feeling the least bit cool or matter of fact. Everything inside him was on fire, visions of exactly what he would do to her dancing behind his eyes. If she were not an innocent, he amended with a curse. Which she was.

Innocent. Untouched. Untouchable.

“I know that,” she said, her voice low, her warm breath blowing a cloud on the chill night air. “But I want to be all the same.”

“The devil take you,” Ash muttered furiously.