Lady Fenton’s old steward met him at the door and announced his arrival to the woman of the house, who sashayed briskly into the hall and offered her hand in greeting. Nicholas kissed it perfunctorily. “You look radiant as always, cousin,” he crooned.
“Thank you, my dear. I see your eyesight hasn’t improved. We will set up in the drawing room. I believe my niece is waiting there for us. Will you follow me?”
They made their way to the first floor drawing room. Lady Fenton spoke interminable of her plans for the girl’s debut. He shook his head as his cousin went on and on. Did women never tire of such sport?
She led him into the drawing room.
He froze and stopped breathing all at once; it felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. He took one look at the girl and, for old times’ sake, swore under his breath. He immediately asked for forgiveness in his heart as his eyes caressed the girl sitting before him.
She seemed tense, almost as if bracing for some sort of impact. Well, I would probably behave the same way living in this mad woman’s house, he thought. Then he stole another look at her.
It couldn’t be.
No.
But it was.
Hell. He was in his own personal Hell. Only this time there was no escape, because sitting in front of him was the same girl he had mauled in the hallway the night before. And by the look in her eyes, she recognized him, too. A deep blush swept from her chest all the way up that neck his fingers had burned to touch. Yes, God was punishing him and doing a thorough job.
“Sit straight, my dear!” Lady Fenton scolded.
“And so it begins,” he grumbled under his breath. He strode over to the girl and kissed her hand quickly. His lips held the tingling sensation long afterward, and it was a good five minutes before he could think logically again.
His cousin droned on interminably about the coming days, and he couldn’t help but allow his eyes and thoughts to wander back to the poor creature seated before him. No doubt she would be eaten alive by the ton. She was too beautiful for her own good. She wore no face paint, not that she needed it at all. Her dark lashes naturally extended further than most women’s and were thick, almost dewy looking. Her lips were pale pink, the color of a fair rose. Her skin was dark, but it framed such a beautiful jawline that one hardly took notice. Her eyes, the same beautiful emeralds from the night before, were like a burning furnace of emotion. She would quite easily have her pick of any man she desired.
It had to be a test from God to be put in the same room as this girl. She is a debutante just like all the rest of them, he kept reminding himself over and over again until he thought he’d go mad.
“Shall we start with a waltz?” Lady Fenton asked, no, it was actually more of a statement. He paled as he looked down at the girl.
“Don’t just sit there,” his cousin bellowed. “Get up! Your looks are no reason to act unapproachable or mute!” The outburst jolted Nicholas, and he glanced quickly to the girl on the settee.
She looked like she had just been struck, yet a certain intelligence hung behind her eyes, making him feel as if he was in for a lot more than lessons. It was obvious she had a temper, even though she concealed it quite well. It would behoove him to remember that in case he accidently provoked the poor thing.
An image of her chasing after her aunt with her fan entered his mind; he cleared his throat to mask the chuckle trying to betray his amusement and held his hand out to her. She eyed him reluctantly before accepting it. Her touch sent familiar sensations shuddering all the way down to his toes; it was like stepping into Dante’s Inferno. How long had it been since he experienced this depth of attraction? Oh yes—around twelve hours. He had gone two whole years without any hint of scandal or misconduct, yet one simple touch from this maiden was enough to undo him.
Nicholas led her gently to the middle of the room. He bowed casually before asking, “Are we sure this dance is appropriate for Miss—” He looked down at her in question. Ironically, Lady Fenton failed to make the proper introductions, or he somehow missed the name of the beauty.
“Sai. You may call me Sai,” she informed him in a smooth sultry voice. He nearly moaned in agony. How could he have forgotten her voice was that of a temptress? Had he not already determined he was in Hell? Might as well add her voice to the list of completely spell-binding tortures she wielded.
She curtsied uncertainly before him, bowing her head slightly forward. A few tendrils of her velvety black hair fell onto her forehead, escaping the hairpins. Impulsively, he reached forward and brushed the wandering strands from her face, shocking himself and Sai, leaving both of them staring at each other as if the sun had suddenly stopped shining.
He coughed again self-consciously and grasped her hands in his own. “Is this your first waltz, Sai?” Small talk. That will make it less awkward, he reasoned with himself.
Her eyelashes fluttered instinctively down. “Yes, my lord.”
“You don’t need to address me so formally.”
“Oh, yes she does!” Lady Fenton flared from the side. “Now, both of you, a little closer.”
He groaned inwardly while pulling Sai closer. Any closer and I’m going to compromise her right here in this room with her aunt watching. He swallowed hard and continued to hold her close. The heat between them escalated by the minute, leaving him smoldering in a cold sweat from his effort to avoid looking in her eyes.
Against his better judgment, he pulled her a little closer and whispered into her ear so Lady Fenton couldn’t hear, “You may call me Nicholas. All of my friends do. And you will need a friend when she launches you onto society at the end of the week.” Of course, his friends never used his real name, but Sai didn’t need to know that, and his heart yearned for the familiarity it would give them.
Not without difficulty, Nicholas drew back to an appropriate distance. The electricity between them was hypnotizing, and his head swam in its dizzying effects. It would be so easy to forget they were not alone in the room and linger closely in her intoxicating presence, but under the circumstances, it would be most inappropriate—and for him, dangerous.
A hint of a teasing smile danced in her eyes, as she took her turn to lean forward. “I would not to give the impression we are more than just acquaintances. Using your Christian name, I fear, would do nothing but compromise your integrity. After all, Lady Fenton tells me you have sworn off the female sex in light of religion.”
Biting her lip, she ended the dance with a curtsy, her eyes sparkling.
Dumbstruck, he didn’t know whether to bow at her feet or beg her to marry him right then and there. Then he remembered the feather. He wasn’t going to lose the bet just because some wild-eyed temptress batted her eyes at him. Nicholas knew it wasn’t her fault he starved himself of women these past two years, but what he needed was to get away from her before he lost more than just the bet.
“That was lovely!” Lady Fenton pulled the cord for tea. “The two of you will do just fine at the ball this Friday, I’m sure of it.”
Nicholas gave her a sharp look. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Of course you do!” she snapped. “You’re escorting Sai to the ball. Did I not tell you as much when we discussed the arrangement this morning? You must guard her virtue! I am acting as chaperone, and you are acting as her personal bodyguard. Who else would be more suitable for the task than a reformed rake of your reputation?”
Sai lifted an eyebrow. “Reputation?”
“My dear—and forgive me, my lord, for being so blunt—” Nicholas didn’t have time to answer before she went on, “You are dancing with one of the most notorious womanizers of the ton. He only recently turned to religion and swore off marriage, but until then it was common to see him with married and unmarried alike. Isn’t that right, Nicholas?”
He sighed, watching his chances fly out the window. Not that he wanted a chance, but if he had, it would be gone after that statement. “Your opinion of me, dear cousin, is most enlightening. No wonder I have sworn off females.”
She stepped back as if stung and pulled the cord again. “Honestly, what is wrong with the service in this house? I’ll be just a minute. Nicholas, work with her on etiquette.” And then Lady Fenton was out the door, taking all sense of propriety Nicholas once felt with her.
“I’m sorry she said that,” Sai said sweetly as she took her seat.
“I’m afraid everything she said was true,” he replied. Might as well be honest since he would be spending time with her. “I can assure you that being with me will not tarnish your reputation. As she said, I am reformed.”
“From what, exactly, are you reformed, my lord?” she inquired, leaning toward him with her slender body in perfect view of his piercing eyes.
He forced himself to relax. “To put it bluntly, I am reformed from taking physical pleasure from whomever whenever I please. I have found religion; I do not take it lightly and will not be swayed to ever bind myself to another.”
Though by her downcast look he realized it was only pity, Sai’s smile sent his heart hammering through his chest. Was she trying to call his bluff? Could she sense the effect she had on him?
***
Could he sense the effect he had on her? It was horrifying to be so blatantly attracted to such a rake. No wonder he warmed the beds of the ton, with his easy eyes and deadly smile, he had her even forgetting her own name. She did her best to calm her ragged breathing and flashed him a smile to show her ease at being in the same room with him, even if her body still felt sensitive where his hands had touched her. How silly to be affected so much, he had barely been holding her, yet she felt like the most beautiful woman in the room—even though she knew it wasn’t true. A man of his nature, especially a man of his nature, knew beautiful women. After all, he had scandalously bedded many of them. He wouldn’t waste his time on Sara even if he did go back on his oath, not that she wanted him to.
The previous night had obviously been a mistake. Although she could tell by his reaction, he knew exactly who she was, she had swallowed her pride when his face paled at the sight of her. Naturally the mask she had worn covered most of her flaws, and the hallway had been extremely dark. He probably thought her beautiful then, but now, ever so wicked and ugly. All she had to offer him was friendship, though her heart begged for more.
Sara looked up to meet his gaze and realized they had been having a somewhat intelligent conversation regarding his decision not to marry before her mind wandered off and ruined the moment.
She started again, “So, you do not want children?”
Something flashed across his face before he looked away and answered, “Every man wants an heir.” He pushed a thick lock of chocolate hair away from his brow and smiled deeply. Sara felt heat burn to her cheeks. His eyes were crystal blue, one could almost see through them, if that were possible. It was a stark contrast to his dark brown, hair making it almost hypnotic to gaze in his direction. How did people do it? How did people act normal around this man? How was she supposed to act normal around someone so purely male? He was to escort her to her first ton event, the only chance she has to win her family’s approval and secure their future, but she couldn’t remember a blessed thing her aunt had taught her. The only thing her brain could focus on was his hair brushing along the crisp white cravat. Surprising how Lord Renwick openly mocked society with his untamable long hair. An unsuspecting jealousy arose, her hands itching to feel the silky chocolate locks between her fingers that blatantly taunted her.