Sins of a Duke(6)

She fancied it was his eyes that caused the ache inside her, the desire to partake of the wickedness lurking deep within them. It did not matter that his splendid eyes were partially obscured by dark-rimmed spectacles. They should have detracted from the dangerous aura he gave off, but the slight imperfection only added to his appeal. She found everything about him electrifying.

Caution urged her to return to the ballroom. Her mother would be horrified at her lack of decorum. Her brothers would lock her away to know how she had flagrantly dismissed conventions and dallied with a man like the Lord of Sin in a dark conservatory, unchaperoned.

“Ah. If you did not follow me here, I must assume the pleasures I had been hoping to find between your sweet thighs will not be forthcoming?”

She met the mocking glint in his eyes evenly. “Do you expect me to swoon because you use such uncouth words?” She was proud of how steady her voice was.

She did not understand what he meant by pleasures between her thighs, but she would be mortified to reveal her ignorance. Instinctively, though, she knew it was not a flattering remark.

“If you truly did not come out here to tumble, I will grant you a moment to flee before I toss up your petticoats and take what you have been silently offering the whole night,” he said flatly.

She clasped her hands to hide their shaking and curled her mouth at the corners in false confidence. “I reiterate: I did not follow you out here. Nor have I given you any reason to speak to me in such an ungentlemanly and derisive manner. You need not apologize, but I ask you not to measure me by your previous…acquaintances…and I will not measure you by the foolish words which have passed your lips.”

She was riveted by the almost imperceptible color that suddenly highlighted his cheekbones. He was blushing?

He executed a curt bow. “Forgive my rudeness. Indeed, you did not deserve my vulgarity, and there is no excuse for my behavior.” The intensity in his voice made her shiver. He stepped closer. “I am Lucan Wynwood.”

She waited for him to add his titles. He didn’t. Which vaguely surprised her. He did not act like the other men of her acquaintance, titled and privileged, all of whom would have emphasized their exalted rank.

She nodded in response to his apology, her heart pounding even harder. That had hardly been a formal introduction. By all rights, she should run from him, from this secluded place, and this entirely forbidden conversation. But her feet refused to move.

Her name sprang to the tip of her tongue, but she could not bring herself to reveal it. He may have heard the rumors. Right now, he was not looking at her with the same contempt in his eyes as did everyone else, and she did not wish to field such a look from him. Nor did she want the look of contempt to shift to not-so-subtly undressing her with his eyes, as some men had been bold enough to do, invariably followed by inappropriate suggestions. Despite his initial rudeness, Mondvale did seem genuinely contrite.

So she used one of her middle names and chose one of her brother’s lesser titles as her surname. She told him, “I am Miss Desiree Hastings,” and sent a swift prayer to the heavens to forgive her deceit.

At least now she should be able to have a normal conversation, not filled with innuendoes and veiled criticism. She desperately yearned for such normalcy, if only for a stolen moment.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hastings. Would you like me to escort you back to the ballroom?” As if he realized what he suggested, he laughed lightly, and she was charmed. “Or perhaps, just to the terrace steps?”

She backed away and turned to wander deeper into the conservatory, toward a table and chair that sat in a brick-paved alcove. “I thank you, but I am most happy to remain here.”

He prowled after her. “I would be remiss if I did not point out how precarious it is for your reputation, to be alone with me.”

She glanced back at him. “It is very sweet of you to be worried about me, but I assure you it is unnecessary.”

He seemed nonplussed as he stared after her, and she wondered what she had said.

“Sweet?” he queried.

She nodded. “Quite.”

He smiled faintly in the moonlight, drawing her gaze to the sensual slant of his lips. “You do not consider it reckless to be alone with me?”

Tension crackled in the air between them. “You could always leave,” she pointed out, while hoping he would stay.

Surprise flared in his gaze, and then wariness. He radiated such power he should have been intimidating, but she felt inexplicably safe with him.

“I was here first, but I will be a gentleman and depart.” He tilted his head and made to leave.

Loneliness washed over her. She didn’t want him to go. A waltz filtered on the air, and the words escaped before she could stop them, shocking even herself. “Or perhaps we could dance?”