CHAPTER TEN
There was nothing particularly notable about Lady Simmon’s ball. Oh, perhaps the lobster in cream was better than usual and the illusion of a Grecian villa a nice change from the usual Roman ruins. But all in all it was just another ball amidst an entire season of balls.
Still, Bianca could not deny a tingle of excitement that inched down her spine and lodged in the pit of her stomach.
It was a growingly familiar sensation, and one that she was beginning to suspect was directly attributable to the large, handsome gentleman that was currently standing across the room regarding her with a brooding smile.
It made no sense.
He was no dashing rake to sweep a woman off her feet. Or even a practiced seducer who could flatter and woo a lady until her head was spinning.
So why did his mere glance manage to send her heart into a flutter?
It was all very strange.
“Ah, Bianca, here you are.” As he stepped before her, Alexander’s eyes abruptly widened in shock. “God almighty.”
Bianca resisted the urge to lift her hands and cover the large amount of flesh her gown exposed. Had she not specifically requested her modiste to make the neckline a tad more . . . revealing?
Why she had made the request was not a question she had allowed herself to ponder.
“Good evening, Alexander.”
The handsome features hardened with disapproval. “What the devil are you wearing?”
“It is commonly known as a ball gown.” She smoothed the silver gauze skirt. “Perhaps if you have been residing in a cave you might consider them an astonishing creation.”
“There are ball gowns and then there are ball gowns. Has your father happened to see you in this bare excuse for clothing?”
“He was the one who demanded that I shackle myself to a husband. A woman must bait the trap if she is to capture her prey.”
Alexander gave a choked cough. “There is a difference between baiting a trap and creating a riot.”
Bianca rolled her eyes heavenward. Anyone would think she was following the tradition of Lady Godiva and prancing about stark naked.
“My gown is no more shocking than any other.”
“It is hardly your usual . . .” Alexander halted, his brows lifting as he turned to glance across the crowded room. “Ah.”
“What?”
“I had forgotten you were hunting the rare country ox.” He turned back to regard her with mocking amusement. “No doubt you need a bit stouter ammunition.”
“Very clever,” she drawled.
Leaning against the paneled wall, Alexander crossed his arms over his chest. For once he did not seem to note the languishing female glances being hurled in his direction.
“I must say that Harrington has managed to create quite a stir about town.”
Bianca instinctively bristled. By God, she would not hear one more word on Edward’s lack of blue blood.
Not when she of all people knew his worth.
“Not you too, Alexander,” she snapped. “Lord Harrington happens to be a perfectly gracious gentleman who is far more deserving of respect than most of these supposed pinks of the ton fluttering about.”
A knowing gleam entered her cousin’s gaze. “Draw in your claws, kitten. I meant that your farmer has managed to rattle even the most indolent members of the House of Lords. There are those who are convinced he is determined to create another Reign of Terror right here in England.”
Oh.
Well, that was an entirely different matter.
Bianca took great pride in Edward’s fierce determination to battle for reform.
“He is rather passionate in his desire for change,” she murmured, her attention shifting toward the gentleman currently being discussed.
Her gaze locked with the hazel eyes and a sharp flare of heat clutched at her as a hungry, almost predatory expression hardened his features. It had been near a week since they had been together in her carriage. Since then they had encountered one another at a variety of events and once in Hyde Park. But constantly surrounded by crowds, they had barely been allowed to do more than murmur pleasantries before social dictates had demanded they part.
She discovered herself increasingly frustrated.
She desired to have him to herself for a few moments. So they could speak. And perhaps kiss. And . . . well, there were all sorts of things possible.
If only they could be alone.
“A passion he seems to have inspired within you, my dear.” Alexander broke into her brazen thoughts.
A sudden heat rushed to her cheeks. Good lord, could her cousin read her mind?
“I beg your pardon?”
“His passion for change. I hear you have taken on your own causes.” He arched a deliberate brow, his lips twitching. “Whatever did you think I meant?”
All too familiar with Alexander’s rotten sense of humor, Bianca offered him a pointed glare. Wretch.
“Is there not some poor, neglected wife anxious for your attentions?”
“Always, my dearest, always.”
“Then do not let me keep you.”
Readily straightening from the wall, Alexander reached out to lightly touch her shoulder.
“Bianca.”
“Yes?”
His gaze swept her countenance in a searching manner. “Are you serious about this farmer?”
Bianca paused. Was she serious?
It was so difficult to know. She liked Edward. She cared for him. And she certainly craved his touch.
Perhaps more importantly, she had to admit that when he was not near she felt as if something vital was missing.
Still, she had always dreamed her future would be filled with . . . what? Daring adventures? Endless excitement?
At least something more than becoming a dutiful wife and retiring to a small country estate.
“I do not yet know. I like him very much. And . . .” Her voice trailed away as she realized what she had been about to admit.
Alexander chuckled. “You lust for him?”
“If you must be so crude, yes.”
His hand shifted to tug on a raven curl that brushed her cheek. “You could do worse, you know. He seems like a good chap. Dependable. Loyal. Perhaps not quite so dashing as your beloved Stephen, but believe me when I tell you that rakes do not often make the best sort of husbands.”
Absently, Bianca touched the silver locket about her neck.
Alexander was no doubt correct. He was, after all, a consummate rake who had devoted his life to breaking the hearts of women. Who better to warn her of the dangers of such treacherous animals?
But for once in her life she had no intention of blithely charging forward and hoping for the best.
Already she had managed to lure Stephen into humiliating himself before her father and society. Even if it had been unintentional.
She feared that another mistake would do far worse to Edward.
Sensing her cousin’s growing curiosity, Bianca forced a stiff smile to her lips.
“You are being rather presumptuous, Alexander. There is no assurance that Lord Harrington will even offer for me.”
“Oh, he will make an offer,” Alexander drawled.
“Why, because I am the daughter of a duke?”
“Because he watches you the way a gentleman watches the woman he intends to bed or wed. If he wishes to survive the season, it had better be wed.”
Her eyes widened. “Bed or wed?”
“Do not pretend innocence, my dear. Not even you can miss those heated glances.”
She stole a glimpse toward the gentleman still staring at her with a fierce hunger. The tingling excitement returned.
“They are rather nicely heated,” she murmured.
“Just so long as they lead to a trip up the aisle, my dearest.” Her cousin lightly tapped her nose, but there was no mistaking the warning upon his handsome features. “I am off to brighten the evening of some fortunate lady. You . . . behave yourself.”
Behave herself?
Hmmm . . .
Hiding a smile of anticipation, Bianca artfully weaved her way through the swelling crowd. More than once she was forced to halt and share pleasantries with her numerous acquaintances, but with dogged persistence she at last was able to slip through the French windows and onto the terrace.
From there she made a determined path to the large fountain shrouded in shadows.
She did not doubt that Edward would soon join her.
He did, after all, have a most delicious fascination with gardens.
Edward did not miss Bianca’s retreat to the gardens.
How could he?
Despite his best efforts he had not managed to wrench his gaze from her the entire evening. Not even Biddles’s whispered warning that he was wearing his heart firmly upon his sleeve had managed to bring him to his senses.
What did he care if he was not playing the game by the rules of society?
He was not cunning and sly as was Biddles. Or an experienced rake who possessed the skill to lure hapless females to his side.
He achieved his goals through relentless, straightforward means. That was the only method he understood.
Circling the edge of the dance floor, Edward ignored the narrowed gazes that followed in his wake. He had already resigned himself to the knowledge he would always be an oddity among society.
Ridiculous considering the foolish dolts that littered London.
Why, a gentleman who wore nothing but sickly green coats did not warrant a lift of the brows. And the Prince, who had grown so heavy and self-indulgent he could not even hoist himself into a saddle without a mechanical device, barely created a stir.
It seemed as long as your blood was blue enough, you could be as eccentric as you might wish.
Buffoons.
Giving a shake of his head, Edward stepped through the French doors and paused to suck in a deep breath of the fresh, rose-scented air. God, it felt so wonderful to be out of the cramped, smoky room.
Allowing himself only a moment to appreciate the moonlit peace, Edward forced his feet forward. Although Bianca had not appeared distressed as she had left the ballroom, he had to reassure himself that nothing had occurred to trouble her.
He would rip apart anyone foolish enough to insult or harm her in any way.
First, of course, he had to find her.
With a frown he glanced about the seemingly empty garden. “Bianca?”
“Good evening, Edward.”
His frown only deepened as the soft voice floated through the air. “Where are you?”
“In the folly.”
Edward hesitated a moment before moving the long distance to the back of the garden. He found the folly set in the darkest shadows and secluded enough to be easily overlooked.
He climbed the steps of the fanciful structure built to resemble a tiny cottage even as a voice in the back of his mind warned him that this was a bad idea.
A very bad idea.
Unfortunately, the distracting voice could not rival the urgent need to be close to Bianca.
It had been so damnably long since he had been allowed more than a distant greeting. So long since had been allowed to touch so much as her fingers.
He might be a man of great restraint, but he was no saint.
Halting at the doorway of the folly, he glanced into the shadowed interior to discover Bianca seated upon a cushioned chaise longue.
His breath tangled in his throat at the slight of her slender form draped in a shimmering swath of satin that revealed an indecent amount of flesh.
When she had sailed into the ballroom earlier that evening, he had nearly had a seizure. While he might fully appreciate the sight of her round, tantalizing bosom displayed in all its glory, he certainly did not enjoy the thought of every other rogue and scoundrel enjoying the view.
Only the knowledge he was hardly likely to earn the good will of the Duke of Lockharte had kept him from tossing the minx over his shoulder and hauling her from the crowd of ogling gentlemen.
Now that they were utterly alone, however, he was quite at liberty to fully appreciate the stunning beauty before him.
And appreciate he did. Fully.
At last the realization that he was already becoming hard and aching brought him sharply back to earth.
Hell’s teeth, the woman should be locked in her chambers to preserve the sanity of gentlemen everywhere.
Clearing his throat, he gripped the edge of the open door. “Whatever are you doing in there?” he demanded.
Her slow smile did nothing to ease his stirring passions. “Why do you not come in and discover for yourself?”
His fingers nearly shattered the wood as he gritted his teeth. “Is everything well?”
“Perfectly well.”
She did not appear to be troubled or distressed. Quite the opposite, in fact.
He should turn around and return to the ballroom.
Unfortunately, his feet were not currently attached to his brain.
“Then what are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you.”
His brows lifted. “You were so certain I would follow?”
“I could only hope you would.” She tilted her head to one side as she patted the cushion next to her. “Are you not going to join me?”
Dear God, but she was a natural-born siren.
“I am not at all certain it is wise.”
“Why?”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I have made little secret of the fact that I want you, Bianca. Desperately. Why do you think I have gone to such effort to meet you only when I knew we would be surrounded by others?”
“You also told me that you wished to become better acquainted. That is hardly possible in the midst of a crowded ballroom.”
His entire body clenched at the husky invitation in her voice. How could any poor gentleman be expected to resist such temptation?
“Bianca . . . you are a very dangerous young woman.”
“Will you join me?”
His sigh rasped through the night air. “I do not think I possess the power to resist.”
Not taking his gaze from her delicate features, Edward moved forward, closing the door behind him before crossing to settle at her side.
At once the heated perfume of her skin reached out to wrap about him and he choked back a groan. That maddening scent had haunted far too many nights.
“It is a beautiful evening,” she murmured.
“Beautiful. Astonishingly beautiful.” His tone made it clear he was not discussing the weather. Reaching out, he brushed her cheek with light fingers. “My God, you take my breath away.”
Her lashes fluttered as if caught off guard by his sudden boldness. “Edward.”
Of its own accord his hand lowered, drifting down the curve of her neck before following the tantalizing dip of the bodice.
“This is an evil gown, muirnin.”
He felt her breath catch even as she peered at him from beneath her tangle of lashes.
“Do you not like it?”
His hand trembled as he reached the curve of her breast. She was hot silk and honeysuckle. And he was rapidly hardening to the point of desperation.
“Dear God, if you knew how I ached for you . . .”
Without warning, she reached up to frame his face in his hands. “It can be no more than I ache for you.”
Their gazes locked as the air shimmered with thick, potent awareness. Despite her innocence, there was no fear, no hesitation in the dark eyes. Only a smoldering need that was echoed deep within him.
He was lost.
A victim of his own searing desire.
“Dangerous, indeed,” he muttered, lowering his head to capture the soft lips in a kiss of stark hunger.
Just for a moment she seemed to stiffen at his raw demand, but before he could even attempt to restrain his ardor, she was arching against him and returning his kiss with an enthusiasm that shook him to his very soul. He groaned, parting her lips so that he could plunder the moist cavern of her mouth.
This was what he dreamed of night after night. What he ached for even when he was devoting himself to his endless round of calls upon various Parliament members.
With an impatient motion he tugged upon the fragile silk of her bodice, astonished to discover she hadn’t bothered with a shift or corset. His heart raced as the warm mounds of her breasts tumbled into his waiting hands.
Manna from heaven, he inwardly groaned, branding her upturned countenance with fierce kisses before lowering his head to capture an already-straining nipple into his mouth.
He heard her moan of approval as his tongue brushed over the hardened peak. Yes, yes, yes. His blood rushed, his erection rising to press against the button of his breeches. This woman was a fever in his blood. An addiction he was not certain he could live without.
Over and over he teased the sensitive bud, circling and stroking with relentless care. He could devote the entire evening to discovering every curve, every soft inch of her delicious body.
Growingly restless, Bianca plunged her hands into his hair and urged him to perform the same service for her neglected breast. Edward eagerly complied. Turning his head, he suckled with growing insistence.
It had been so long. Too long since he had held her in his arms.
Tugging her closer, he allowed her to feel the full force of his arousal.
“I can taste you in my dreams,” he breathed. “So sweet . . . so warm.”
Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and down to his chest. Then, shockingly, she was tugging upon the buttons of his waistcoat and pulling his shirt from his breeches.
“I want to touch you.”
Edward possessed a brief flare of sanity that warned him matters were spiraling way beyond his control, but as her fingers tentatively crawled beneath his shirt and over the rigid muscles of his stomach, sanity was tossed to the wind.
God almighty, who cared about something so tedious as good sense or wisdom or simple logic? At the moment, he was quite certain he would commit murder to keep her hands upon him.
“Yes. Oh God,” he rasped as her fingers brushed over his nipples. The sharp pleasure nearly jolted him off the cushions. “If you knew what you are doing to me . . .”
“Do you like that?” she whispered.
“Like it?” His voice was so thick it was barely recognizable. “I believe my body is making it fairly obvious just how much I like it.”
Her head tilted back as he nuzzled his way up her throat. “You are so warm.”
“I am burning.” He nipped at the lobe of her ear. “If I do not have you soon, muirnin, I shall go out of my mind.”
“Edward,” she muttered, her magical fingers creating all sorts of chaos as they skimmed downward and hovered mind-numbingly close to his throbbing shaft. “Teach me how to please you.”
Damn. Damn. Damn.
His hand curled about hers, pressing it against his erection. Readily she explored the hard length, the thin fabric of his breeches no barrier to her exquisite torture.
Edward gritted his teeth, a breath away from pressing her onto the cushions and spreading her legs.
He would give his title, his wealth, and everything he possessed be atop her and sheathed deep in her heat. Hell’s teeth, he would give them up simply to have her clever fingers stroking him to heaven.
Thankfully—well, not quite thankfully considering the searing agony that wracked his body, but wisely—the bout of madness was brought to an end as a distant sound of laughter suddenly broke into the silence.
Sucking in a sharp breath, he struggled to regain some semblance of sanity.
He would not take the woman he intended to wed in a rushed, sordid coupling where anyone might stumble upon them. She deserved a night of slow, tender romance.
Once his ring was upon her finger, he would happily steal her away from any number of ballrooms.
And soirees, and picnics, and . . .
Barely even acknowledging the realization that he had so firmly determined to take Bianca as his bride, Edward pulled back to regard her with a tight expression.
“Bianca . . . this has gone far enough,” he muttered, reluctantly pulling her hand from his aching arousal. Deep inside, his entire being howled in frustration. “Too far.”
Her own breathing was labored as she fumbled to tug her bodice back into place.
“You sound angry. I thought you enjoyed my kisses.”
He froze as he heard the faint edge of hurt in her voice. Cupping her face in his hands, he forced her to meet his narrowed gaze.
“For God’s sake, Bianca, you know bloody well how desperately I enjoy your kisses. You felt the proof for yourself,” he muttered. “But my restraint is not inexhaustible, and having you so near while knowing I cannot have you as I desire is swiftly driving me to the point of madness.”
Her lashes lowered to cover her expressive eyes. “You wish to make love to me?”
“Yes, I wish to make love to you, muirnin. But I am no debaucher of innocents. I will not make you mine unless we are wed.”
He felt the small shiver that raced through her slender form. Unfortunately, he had no notion if it was one of excitement or fear.
“Somehow we seem to keep coming back to that subject,” she murmured.
Edward gave a soft chuckle. “For rather obvious reasons. When two people end up in each other’s arms on every occasion they meet, they either wed, indulge in an affair, or learn to avoid one another.”
Her gaze abruptly lifted. “An affair?”
His hands tightened upon her countenance. Damn but she was going to be the death of him.
“No. No affair. It is marriage or nothing.”
Her eyes slowly narrowed. “That sounds remarkably like an ultimatum.”
He heaved a sigh as his features softened. “It was not intended as such, but I cannot pretend that all I desire from you is a willing body.” He paused, knowing he was bound to bumble this badly but unable to halt the words. “You are in my heart, muirnin. I want you at my side, as my lover and my friend. I want you to be my wife.”
She froze, her eyes widening at his blunt confession. “Edward, I . . .”
Smiling wryly, he rose to his feet and arranged his rumpled clothing. “I did not mean to terrify you.”
“It is not that,” she whispered, her expression troubled. “It is just that I do not know what to say.”
“Say nothing for now. Just promise me you will at least consider my offer.” Softly he brushed his lips over her forehead. “I swear that I will do everything in my power to ensure your happiness.”
Knowing he had pressed his luck as far as he dared, Edward forced himself to turn and leave the all-too-intimate folly. Another few moments and he would no doubt be on his knees pleading for her love.
A certain means of convincing her that he had lost his wits.
He grimaced as he headed back to the ballroom.
Oh lord, what the devil had he done?