For the barest moment, she met the older lady’s eyes and saw admiration and acceptance reflected there. She and Blixford stepped back and she aimed once again.
MacDougal cried out and cowered into a ball of fear. “Do not do it, Jane! I beg of you!”
“I will pull the trigger if you don’t tell the truth.”
This time, he believed her, which was rather ignorant on his part because she wouldn’t shoot him again. He might die if she did, and she wouldn’t kill him, no matter the provocation.
“All right! It’s untrue that you were my mistress.” He glared at her with bitter resentment. “But it’s not a lie that I bedded you! That you allowed it!”
The third gasp of the evening rose to the very high ceiling of the ballroom.
Blixford moved forward then, reached down, grasped his collar and hauled him to his feet. “She didn’t allow it,” he said in a low, even voice. “She said no.” He drew back his arm and planted MacDougal a facer, sending him flying backward. Blixford followed and bent to repeat the process, but MacDougal was unconscious. Raising up, he turned to face Jane. “I’m sorry, love, but he’s ruined his comeuppance by fainting.” He moved close and crooked his arm. “Perhaps you’ll waltz with me while I wait for him to wake up.”
She looked to Lady Bloomsbury. “With your permission, ma’am?”
Their hostess nodded. And smiled. “By all means.” She waved at the orchestra leader. “A waltz, my good man!”
***
Two hours later, after dancing with Miss MacGruder, Lucy, Aunt Northern, and the Marchioness of Bloomsbury, then going down to supper and feeding bits of smoked trout to the marchioness’s mouser, Michael waltzed again with Jane. The floor was crowded and he thought he’d never been smiled upon quite so much. “Perhaps we should create another scandal, only so we might have the dance floor to ourselves.”
“The idea has merit, but let’s wait a while.”
Spying the open doors to the garden terrace, he waltzed her in that direction until they were outside.
“Blix, what’s this? I thought you wanted to waltz.”
He led her down the steps. “We have done so. Now I’d like to stroll through the garden with you. Ah, what lovely paper lanterns the marchioness displays in her trees. Hmm, but what’s this? They appear only to illuminate the front half of the garden, and back here, it’s quite dark, but for the moonlight through the leaves. Quite romantic, you’d have to agree. Now, if only the opportunity would present itself to engage in sexual congress with my wife. I say, will you look at that, Jane? A lovely bower we might duck into. Can you see me? No? Ah, well, no matter. I’ve no doubt you can work my fastenings with your eyes closed, and as for your gown, well it’s quite easy to lift, as you see . . . well, I suppose you can’t see, but you get the idea. Where the devil are your lips? I’ve found your eye it appears, and your eyes are lovely, but not what I had in mind at the moment.”
He dove into a kiss, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, kissing her as no gentleman ever kisses a lady.
After a time, when he was so hard he was afraid he’d climax before he’d yet touched her, he continued, “I’ve missed taking you in unusual places, had a dream, in fact, just the other night, and I made love to you atop a horse. Yes, love, there is a bench, I’m certain. Place your hands there, and I will be just here, behind . . . forgive me for blathering, but anyone who ventures near will hear the sound of a voice and go away, though I am speaking quietly so hopefully they couldn’t know what we’re about. As I was saying, I suggest we try it again, as soon as we return to Eastchase, though not on Grendel, since she’s breeding and possibly more tetchy than usual . . . ah, love, yes, this is marvelous. You are marvelous and I love you so, I may fair die of it . . . if this doesn’t kill me first. Amazing how we fit together, is it not? I have missed this, more than you know, and I’m probably a brute not to ask first. Jane, I’m not hurting you? I’d rather die . . . ah, good, you are fine . . . what’s that? Better than fine? Yes, I begin to comprehend, for I can feel . . . great God, Jane, you are already . . . ? I’m sorry to half smother you, but we can’t have you crying out and announcing our activity. I was only joking about creating another scandal. Ah, love, you’ve no idea what you do to me, so tight, so beautiful, so. . .” Curled around her, covering her, feeling the weight of her breasts in his palms, he exploded within her softness and couldn’t speak any longer.
Breathing so hard, she was panting, Jane turned to throw her arms around him, the hem of her gown returning to her ankles. “Will you take me home now, Michael?”