By the time the first strains of the final waltz sounded, Theo was certain her heart would explode. Caught between her earlier indignation and an inexplicable fear, she had to force her slippered feet to remain rooted to the parquet floor of the ballroom as Stonemere approached.

“I believe the final waltz belongs to me, Lady Theodora.” He offered a stiff bow over her gloved hand and then tucked it into his arm as he escorted her to the dance floor.

“Yes, my lord.” She hated the uncertain breathiness of her response. He turned her into his arms so his hand rested against her upper back, searing her flesh through the interminable layers of fabric. Without conscious thought, her spine stiffened and her nipples pebbled as they pressed against the confinement of her corset. Heat suffused her face, leaving her to wonder if her cheeks would be in a perpetual state of pinkness.

Her partner studied her with an uncomfortable intensity. “Is anything amiss, my lady?”

“No, not at all.” She uttered the shameless fib as she attempted to regain control of her physical and emotional reaction. Everything was wrong. She was betrothed to a man who was all but indifferent to whether or not she took her next breath, he had a scandalous reputation for being a Lustful Lord, had proved to be overbearing to an oppressive degree—and they had yet to even wed—and her body reacted to him in the most confounding fashion.

“Well then. As you indicated earlier this evening that you had some interest in an outing or two so that we may have an opportunity to become better acquainted, I took the liberty of gaining your father’s permission to take you driving Sunday at five.”

Why she should have been shocked was hard to say, but Theo ceased dancing in order to comprehend how utterly totalitarian her future husband appeared to be. Anchored in place by her sudden stop, he cursed as another couple crashed into them. “I beg your pardon, the lady seems to be feeling faint.”

He then turned and dragged her from the dance floor. “My lord,” she hissed as he towed her to the closest balcony. “Stonemere!” she tried again, louder.

The cool night air swept over her sweltering flesh, causing goose pimples to ripple over her skin. He hauled her around putting his back to the open doorway and pressed her crinoline-draped bottom against the balustrade. “Explain yourself.”

Heavy hands rested on her upper arms, a most effective means of dashing any hope that she might escape. Inner turmoil wreaked havoc with the frayed threads of her ability to reason, which in turn made forming a response impossible. “I-I…”

When had she developed a stutter? This man infuriated her. He ran roughshod over her and all her plans. He made her pulse race and her body flash hot and cold, with little rhyme or reason. How could she ever marry him?

“Please, explain whatever the issue is that drove you to a complete stop in the middle of a ballroom.” His eyes were lost in the shadows even as the lights of the soiree illuminated him from behind.

Her anger surged to the fore. Very well, if he wanted to know she would be happy to oblige. “You, sir, are intolerable.”

His eyebrows shot up, and could his lip have quivered?

“Please elaborate.” His neutral tone slashed at the frazzled edges of her temper.

She drew herself up to her full five-foot-seven-inch stature. She had never considered herself a shrewish woman, but this man pushed beyond all bounds of reason. Social niceties be damned! “You are an insufferable, pompous, overbearing lout. I shall not be bullied into showing you my ledgers, nor into taking a drive with you at your whim. I may be female, but I have both the intelligence to manage my investments and a schedule to keep.” In a huff, she pushed his shoulder and attempted to break his hold to make good her escape.

Stone was so stunned by the previously shy and remote woman’s sudden and thorough about-face that he bloody near let her slip away. Instead, he reached out and clasped her wrist in his hand. All momentum lost, she came to a halt but refused to turn and face him. Was this brazenness what he had sensed earlier beneath her typical bland façade? Her defiance sparked his interest as nothing else could have. “We are not quite finished, Lady Theodora. Do stay a moment more.”

Rebellion was familiar territory for him, a known quantity. And hers was easily controlled. Without relinquishing his hold on her, he circled around to further block her escape. His gaze snared hers as surprise, or perhaps wariness, caused her eyes to widen and her breath to grow choppy. As her breasts heaved against her bodice in protest, he took a step toward her. She countered his advance and retreated to maintain the space between them.

With each step, the shadows slowly swallowed them until they were as good as alone. Pressed once again to the balustrade, she had nowhere else to go. He stopped with little more than a sliver of air between them. In some places, her gown eliminated the space altogether.

“My lord, what are you about?” Her voice trembled, betraying her uncertainty.

“I have done nothing but seek to ensure you are well cared for and to accede to your wishes.” The soft puffs of her mint-laced breath teased his skin and caused his nostrils to flare as though seeking more of her sweet scent. The reins of his control drew tight. Damn women and their fastidious ways. “I am curious about your business dealings—intrigued by the notion of a woman in business, particularly a lady—and wish to see how you’ve fared. If there is nothing amiss, I plan to let you continue as you see fit.”

“Oh.” The lack of trust evident in her stilted gaze cut him to the quick, though he knew the reaction to be outright ridiculous. When had he become such a nodcock?

“As for the outing, we have so little time, I assumed an expedient result was desired. I am, after all, a decisive man. It comes from long years of military training.” There, a reminder for them both that he was the one in command.

Her gaze dipped. “My apologies, my lord.”

Her acquiescence, simple and elegant as it was after such fiery defiance, ignited a conflagration of need deep within his loins that obliterated rational thought, along with the infinitesimal kernel of concern for propriety that he had heretofore retained. Without warning, the reins of his control slipped from his fingers like the fog wafting across a battlefield. Without hesitation, he hauled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers.

The softness of her breasts pressed against his chest, the zing of citrus and roses teased his nose, and the sweetness of mint from her lips all conspired to inflame him. His cock hardened, though her skirts shielded his evident interest. His tongue drove past her lips to tangle with hers. He explored the warm recesses of her mouth as she clung to him. A soft whimper escaped her when he pulled back to nibble on her plump lower lip.

Without warning, something akin to interest rushed through him in a startling flood. An inexplicable need to sink into her body, command her responses, and have her at his mercy rocked him. He broke from her heat and stepped back even as his breath heaved.

Fresh air swept through the desire-induced haze and cleared his head. Another deep inhale allowed him to slow his heartbeat. And a third gulp restored some semblance of his discipline. He fisted the reins of his control once more as his heart pounded a steady tattoo in his chest. What might have come next had he continued to kiss her? This woman could only be described as a detriment to his wellbeing.

“Stonemere?” The sound of his name on her lips threatened his tenuous grip. She must think him a candidate for bedlam with his wild swings in behavior.

“Lady Theodora, my most abject apologies for such uncouth behavior. I assure you there will not be a repeat of these actions.” He bowed and reached for her arm.

The lady stepped back in a swish of skirts. “Whyever not?”

Shocked by her question Stone stared at her, mesmerized as her eyes flashed in defiance, but then the spark fizzled out. He remained mute in the face of her curiosity. There was no good answer to her question. No clear way to return things to the cool civility from before their first waltz. “Consider our drive cancelled. I believe I shall depart.”

She swept him with a gaze dappled by confusion. “As you wish, my lord.”

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