Seduced by His Touch(9)

She was conversing with a round-faced, former legal associate of her  uncle's when a tingling sense of awareness traveled down her spine.  Without quite realizing what she was doing, she stopped talking and  turned around.

And there he stood-Jack Byron, in the flesh.

He was large and dynamic, and so handsome in stark black and white  evening attire that, for a moment, all she could do was stare. Framed in  the doorway, he eclipsed every other person in the room. In an earlier  era, she was sure they would all have fallen to their knees in obeisance  to beseech his indulgence. Instead, guests began to fall silent as his  presence was noticed and acknowledged.

Yet it wasn't the admiring crowd he was surveying. Instead, his gaze was  focused on her, his vivid blue eyes locked upon her as though she were  the only woman in the room worth noticing.

Her lips parted on a soundless inhalation, and she was unable to look  away as he sauntered toward her with a sinuous, tigerlike stride.                       
       
           


///
       





Grace.

Her name whispered through Jack's mind like the silken stroke of a hand.

He'd never seen her look as pretty as she did tonight, the vibrant  bronze hue of her gown lending her skin a creamy luminosity, her hair  gleaming a rich, fiery red that reminded him of living flame.

And passion.

He wondered if that same intense fire lay hidden inside her, and he  relished the idea of finding out. This evening, however, he would have  to restrain himself, exactly as he'd been doing these many long days.

What an excellent stroke of luck to have happened upon Grace at the  perfume shop. He'd been waiting for the right moment to meet her again,  when there she'd been, visible through the store window. In need of a  small gift for his sisters, he'd known the task would give him the  perfect excuse to further their acquaintance. And when her aunt had  issued her invitation for tonight, he'd nearly kissed her, delighted to  gain such easy entree into Grace's inner circle.

Now, here the both of them stood with barely half a room between them.  He was starting toward her, when his hostess stepped into his path.

"Oh, your lordship, you have arrived," Grace's aunt gushed, her aging  features alive with pleasure. "Welcome to my home. I am honored."

"The honor is mine, ma'am," he said, turning his attention to Mrs. Grant.

"So gallant, just as I have been telling everyone."

He gave an indulgent smile. "And what else have you been telling them?"

"Why, everything, of course," she confided with a laugh before taking hold of his arm. "Come, you must let me introduce you."

Having no other recourse, he allowed himself to be drawn forward.

Nearly an hour passed before the niceties were satisfied and he had an  opportunity to seek out Grace. To his consternation, he discovered her  already at play-one of four partnered for whist. He supposed he could  have joined another game, but it wasn't the game that interested him.  Rather, it was one particular player.

Smiling inwardly, he strolled her way.





Grace sensed, rather than saw, Lord Jack appear at her elbow, his  presence disrupting her decision about whether to lay down a diamond or a  spade. Her partner groaned when she played the wrong card, allowing the  other couple to win the trick.

"I believe a diamond would have been the better choice," Lord Jack murmured in a voice meant for her ears alone.

She tossed him a fulminating glance. "Thank you for that sage bit of wisdom, my lord," she retorted in an equally quiet tone.

Rather than take umbrage, he laughed.

Drawing up a chair, he sat down, positioning himself just slightly  behind and to her right. "I trust no one objects if I stay to watch the  game," he asked the group.

The others-two older women and a slender, rather mousy-looking  man-readily gave their ascent. Grace said nothing and the game quickly  resumed. As a result of her prior distraction over Lord Jack's arrival  and her resulting misplay, she and her partner lost nearly every hand as  they finished out the round. Finally, the slaughter was over and the  cards gathered for a fresh shuffle.

"My apologies for not greeting you properly before," Lord Jack told her,  while the others shared their own conversational asides. "Your aunt  kept me rather busy."

"My aunt is good at such things," she replied in a low voice. "And we  spoke. I distinctly recall saying hello as you made your rounds."

And they had, exchanging how-do-you-do's and a few innocuous remarks  about the weather before Aunt Jane dragged him on to the next group of  guests eager to make his acquaintance.

"But we had no time for more personal conversation."

"Nor do we now," she retorted, taking up her cards, "since the play is ready to resume."

Grinning, he leaned back in his chair.

Despite his casual stance, however, she felt as though she were seated  next to a great jungle cat. He might appear relaxed, his eyelids lowered  in an inattentive, almost sleepy way, but she sensed the exact opposite  was true. Underneath his seemingly bored façade, he was alert, watchful  and ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

Arranging the cards in her hand by suit and number, she did her best to  keep them hidden. However, his superior height and the angle at which he  sat gave him easy means to peek.

Well, no matter, she thought. It's not as though he's playing.

But as the round got underway, she realized that Lord Jack was playing,  shifting subtly in his chair or rubbing the edge of his nose each time  she was about to make a wrong move. She tried holding her cards closer  to her chest, but it did no good. He knew each correct play before it  was made, leaving her to wonder if he possessed some sort of  extrasensory sight that allowed him to see through everyone's cards. As a  result of his silent assistance, she and her partner won the round, as  well as the small pile of winnings that came with it.                       
       
           


///
       

Soon, the others stood to stretch their legs and get a refreshment.  Grace remained seated, however, waiting until she and Lord Jack were  alone before she turned to him. "What do you think you're doing?" she  said on a hiss.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his expression all innocence.

"You know exactly what I mean. You were helping me, feeding me little  signals throughout the game. I'm surprised none of the others said  anything, particularly after you rubbed your nose for the fifth time."

He flashed a white-toothed grin. "None of the others had any idea what I  was doing. As for my signals, you looked like you could use the help."

"I would have done just fine on my own."

He raised a clearly skeptical brow.

"I feel like a cheat," she bemoaned.

He sent her a sternly mocking look. "Of the most vile sort, to be sure.  You ought to be banned from card play forever for ‘stealing' all eight  pence in that pot."

"The amount is not the point."

"No, and neither were our actions a crime. At worst, we played as a team. I mean it's not as if I could see their cards."

Despite the uncanny accuracy of his hints, he was right about that. From  his vantage point, she knew he couldn't have seen anyone's cards but  her own.

She studied him for a thoughtful moment. "How did you know which cards to play?"

He shrugged and stretched his legs out before him. "It's simply a matter  of watching what is being played and taking care not to forget. Once a  few opening cards are established, the rest becomes easy."

She paused, digesting the information. "Remind me never to play cards against you."

He chuckled. "I shall look forward to the occasion and the opportunity  to change your mind. Now, if I am not mistaken, I believe your aunt is  about to announce supper. Pray agree to dine with me."

"I am not sure I can, since the place cards may require otherwise."

"Then we shall simply have to switch them so they're arranged to our  liking," he said, adding a naughty wink that sent tingles whirling  through her system like maddened fireflies.

He stood and offered his arm.

"You wouldn't really switch them, would you?" she asked as she gained her feet.

"What do you think?"

She studied him, his azure eyes unreadable. "I think," she said, "that you are the wickedest man I've ever met."

He choked out a laugh, then leaned over so that his lips were a mere  inch from her ear. "You had best take care to avoid me, then, else I  cease being a gentleman and decide to lead you astray."

Which was precisely what made him so dangerous-because unlike other men,  she just might let him tempt her if ever he should ask. But he was only  teasing, she was sure.