Page 8

Aware of the numerous pairs of eyes observing him escort Miss Caruthers onto the polished floor, a wry smile touched Ian’s lips. “I haven’t danced this evening. No doubt the rumormongers are hissing envious conjectures as to why I’ve asked you.”

She shot him a startled look before glancing around the crowded ballroom. “Why did you?”

“To see if what I’d heard about you was true.” He watched for her reaction to his provocative statement.

She opened her pretty mouth then closed it, dropping her focus to his cravat. They waltzed around the dance floor for a few moments in silence. The string quartet was quite satisfactory, and Ian allowed the lilting strains to soothe his troubled spirit.

“What…What did you hear?” Miss Caruthers’ hesitant question reminded him of his purpose.

“That you are an excellent dancer.”

It was true. She moved with a natural grace, following his lead, all the while holding herself in a most proper stance. He had to acknowledge she was a superb actress. Her gaze remained fixated on a spot above his left shoulder, except for one brief instance when she’d flicked her cobalt-blue gaze upward and unintentionally met his eyes.

“Is that all?” she softly asked.

He’d never seen eyes such a dark, arresting blue before. “All?”

“You’ve heard nothing else about me?” Her eyes held the perfect combination of trust and innocent curiosity. So convincing was she, that when their gazes fused, a peculiar jolt stabbed the center of his being.

What was that feeling?

Something foreign, tantalizing, rousing from dormancy and flickering to awareness.

Startled by his train of thought, Ian stiffened. Good God, now he waxed sentimental claptrap. Even so, he continued to stare into her seemingly guileless eyes. How could someone as jaded as she, appear so innocent? He couldn’t very well tell her what he knew, now could he?

He searched her expressive eyes. “Is there something else you’d have me know?”

“No. Why should there be?” Furrowing her smooth brow, she peered at him. Was that confusion in her gaze? She looked away first.

That irked him.

Man, control yourself. She’s not even flirting with you.

He could better understand Geoff’s fascination now. Miss Caruthers was skilled in her art. Most skilled. Ian would have to guard himself well. He sensed her siren’s allure; the tentacles of desire winding their way about his reasoning, holding him in an imperceptible, yet impenetrable grip. It was almost as if she’dcast a spell, bewitching him.

What utter drivel.

Nonetheless, concentrating proved difficult. He was too aware of the voluptuous woman in his arms, their bodies moving as one to the music. No wonder the young blades lined up, waiting for the smallest morsel of attention from her. He could almost believe she was as diffident and unsure of herself as she pretended. Both qualities were designed and employed to stir the primitive male.

He resolutely suppressed the protective response she roused in him with her seductress’ wiles. “You truly are an exceptionally graceful dancer,” he murmured near her ear.

“Thank you...my lord,” she said, her voice a mere thread.

He flared his nostrils at her intoxicating perfume. Tilting his head a bit closer, he drew in a deep breath, savoring her scent. Something citrusy. Maybe orange blossom? And lightly floral. Lily of the Valley. He recognized the aroma. A myriad of the graceful, nodding white flowers blanketed the grounds near Somersfield’s pond.

Ian ignored good sense and drew Miss Caruthers’ lush form closer. Her décolletage and his height advantage gave him an excellent view of her ample cleavage where a diamond pendant nestled in the valley between her creamy breasts. It gently caressed the flawless, sloping mounds as she swayed in time to the music.

He imagined his fingers doing the same. Blood rushed to his loins, and he cursed inwardly. He’d been too long without a woman. Not since Amelia...Damn, had it really been eight months? Aye, too long without the exquisite pleasure of a woman’s body. With his thumb, he caressed Miss Caruthers’ spine. One slow, provocative stroke.

She shuddered. Was that a gasp? Perhaps she wasn’t as poised as she affected.

Excellent.

Much better to catch her off guard if he was to succeed with his plan. Why then, didn’t his vengeful scheme fill him with the same sense of satisfaction it had before meeting her?

Vangie flicked a glance upward, her gaze colliding with Lord Warrick’s again. What unusual eyes he possessed. Light blue flecks colored the gray, and those dark eyelashes… She’d never seen eyelashes so thick on a man. Her focus dipped to his mouth, and his well-formed lips curved into a smile. She stumbled, though he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve not seen you at other assemblies, my lord,” she blurted, as heat skimmed her face at her ineptitude.