Owen’s gaze moved from the woman at the end of the row and toward Amy. She held her breath. Any moment now he would see her for the first time.
She lowered her gaze to a spot just in front of where he sat, not daring to meet his eyes. Not yet. She licked her dry lips and counted. One . . . two . . . three.
Slowly lifting her eyes, she met a pair of pale blue ones smoldering back at her.
Her intention had been to hold his gaze for a second or two at the most, but Amy was unable to tear herself away. Owen held her captive.
It was only when he lowered his gaze and stared at her breasts that she was able to break contact. The hint of a smile now came to his lips. He liked what he saw.
Thank you, lord, he is a breast man.
When the song was finally over, the audience politely applauded. Owen turned back to his side-on position and lifted his violin once more to his shoulder. But every so often, Amy caught him slyly looking her way.
“I think you could safely say that you have captured Lord Morrison’s attention. I don’t think he has stopped looking at you for more than five minutes in the past hour,” said Colin a little while later.
She smiled serenely at her brother. The gown had been a success; now she just had to follow up and actually speak to the man.
But not tonight. Let him go home wondering who you are. If he is intrigued, he will find you.
When the musical performance was finally at an end, she and Colin joined the rest of the audience and got to their feet, giving the Noble Lords a solid round of applause.
“We should leave soon,” said Colin.
“Yes. I need to be the mystery woman who has him wondering,” Amy replied.
They began to make their way toward the door. It took all her strength not to venture a glance back to where Owen and the other Noble Lords stood accepting the congratulations of other guests.
A dark-haired stranger stepped into her path. She went to move around him, but he made a deft move to one side and forced her to come to a complete stop. He bowed low before stepping forward and offering her his hand.
“An English rose,” said the stranger in a strong Italian accent.
The sultry warmth in his voice immediately sent a rush of heat down her spine. She chanced a sideways look at Colin, who unexpectedly placed his hand on the small of her back and ushered her forward.
“Antonio Calvino at your service, my lady,” the Italian purred as he took her hand.
Amy didn’t need to look at her hands to know they were shaking. Antonio’s voice and the tender grip of his fingers held the promise of long nights of heated passion.
Now I understand why the women are flocking to you. You are gorgeous.
Colin held out his hand for shaking, but Antonio simply left him hanging.
“And you are?” asked Antonio.
Here we go.
He wanted a name. Amy had thought long and hard about a name for the mystery woman who was going to capture Owen’s heart.
“Diana,” she replied. If she was going to pursue a man, it made sense that she be gifted with the name of the Roman goddess of the hunt.
“Miss Diana?” Antonio replied.
Her mind went blank. She hadn’t thought up a last name.
“Miss Diana Smith,” said Colin.
Amy’s frazzled brain fortunately kicked back into some semblance of sense and she gave Colin a quizzical look.
“Mrs. Smith. Cousin, dearest, how could you forget that I have a husband? Not that he is in London or even England. But still, I am a married woman,” said Amy.
She waved her hand toward him showing off her mother’s ring. Colin’s face was a picture of ‘What the hell is going on?’ but he kept his mouth shut.
“Your husband is abroad?” pressed Antonio.
Amy curled her toes up in her evening slippers, determined not to show the lie. It was obvious that Antonio was cast from the same mold as Owen; married women were fair game. A husband who happened to be conveniently out of the country would be a godsend to these men.
She moved in for the kill. The opportunity to practice her lies on him was too good to pass up. If she could master her false identity with one of the Italians, then by the time she got to finally meet Owen she would hopefully be comfortable with being Diana Smith.
“Yes, he went to Sweden a year or so ago and never returned. He wrote one or two letters at the beginning, but I have not heard from him in quite some time. A woman might get to thinking that perhaps her husband had tired of her and didn’t intend to return,” she said.
Sweden seemed far enough away that there was a good chance that neither Antonio nor Owen would have friends in Stockholm.
“How sad. Do you miss him?” replied Antonio. His gaze dropped to what she now knew to be her magical breasts. They held a power over men that even witchcraft could not undo.
She sighed, then added a smile. “Not particularly. And his absence is rather convenient, as it allows me the opportunity to make new acquaintances . . . and friends.”
If that wasn’t a clear enough hint to Antonio that she was available for seduction, she didn’t know what was. She could have sworn she heard him growl with primal need, and for the second time tonight Amy knew she had aroused a man’s sexual interest. The feeling was powerful.
Colin cleared his throat. “I expect Signore Calvino has other guests he wishes to speak to this evening. Perhaps we should allow him to take his leave. Don’t forget we were on our way to the front door when Signore Calvino fortuitously stepped into our path. It has been such a pleasure to make his acquaintance,” said Colin.
Amy heeded his words and nodded her agreement. She had overstepped the mark and needed to retreat and think things through. “Of course. It was lovely to meet you, Antonio. I trust we shall meet again.”
Antonio raised Amy’s hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her skin. In a subtle but masterful move, he drew close enough for his warm breath to heat the bare skin of her décolletage. She gritted her teeth while trying to stifle the shiver that raced through her body.
If tonight had taught her one thing, other than to wear warmer clothes, it was the understanding as to why perfectly sensible women would suddenly throw themselves at men such as Antonio Calvino and Owen Morrison. Looks, charm and musical talent made them gods. Women wanted to worship them.
He gave her an enticing smile as he stepped back and bowed once more.
“Alla prossima,” he said.
Antonio moved on to the next woman and began his introductions all over again.
“He is good,” murmured Amy.
Colin snorted in disgust. “If he so much as lays a hand on your breasts, he is dead.”
Chapter Fourteen
Owen couldn’t tear his gaze away from the beautiful brunette in the stunning gown. She may have been watching him earlier in the evening, but it was now she who was being observed. He gritted his teeth as Antonio Calvino made his introductions to her.
Keep your hands off her, you sneaky swine. I want her.
The woman had caught his eye while he was checking to see who was in attendance at the Noble Lords’ debut performance. She was blessed with a magnificent pair of breasts that continually threatened to escape from her gown. Little wonder that once his gaze had settled on her, he had found it kept returning to feast on the delightful sight.
What a pair of tits.
He could just imagine burying his face in the space between her breasts and breathing her scent deeply. He felt his cock twitch, ready for action.
She was unknown to him, which was unusual. He thought he knew all the delectable women in London society. Lord knew, he had bedded most of them.
He was pleased to see the wedding ring on her left hand. Her being married overcame a number of pertinent obstacles in his lust-filled mind—foremost being that if he made a move on her, she would be experienced enough to know that he was offering a sexual liaison—nothing more, nothing less.
He
decided she was probably aged in her early to mid- twenties. Her cream silk gown would have cost her husband a pretty penny, so she was from sound ton stock. Owen had a keen sense of fashion and he knew how expensive it was to stay on the cutting edge of new trends. Silk was barely within his current financial means.
Whoever she was, there was something about her. Something that had him wanting to know more. When she turned, he was gifted with a view of her full and rounded arse. The light fabric of her gown clung perfectly. Owen’s cock twitched once more. He loved a woman who had an arse that allowed him to grip it with two hands and knead.
In his long experience of bedding the women of the ton, he had developed a taste for ladies who had curves. Rubenesque women were fun in the ballroom and lusty wenches in the bedroom. There was nothing better than a woman who enjoyed life’s pleasures to the fullest.
He continued to study the little party. To his expert eye, the gentleman standing next to the young woman in question was not her husband. There was a decided lack of sexual chemistry between the two of them. If the lucky chap was indeed her husband, then the man was a fool. There was no mistaking the ‘let me fuck you’ eyes that Antonio Calvino was making at the young lady.
When the gentleman tried to move her away from the Italian, Owen had him pegged as some sort of protector. Perhaps a male relative, a cousin or some such. It didn’t matter who he was. If she was the sort of woman who came dressed as she had tonight, Owen was as good as in.
Fuck off, Antonio. She is mine.
“Please turn back and face me. I want to see your breasts once more,” he whispered.
His plea was not answered as the woman and her male companion made their farewells to Antonio and then walked away, heading toward the front door. “Damn,” he muttered.
He had missed his opportunity.
It didn’t matter. Whoever she was, Owen was determined to meet her. He yearned to get his hands on her soft curves. She may well have been a mystery to him tonight, but he was Owen Morrison, and as sure as the sun would rise in the morning, he would soon know everything about her. He would have her.
He turned and swore as another gathering caught his attention.
Marco. What is it with these fucking Italians?
The leader of the Italians, Marco Calvino, had Reid cornered and, from the look on Reid’s face, he was not enjoying the conversation. Owen was about to venture over and lend Reid his support when a soft tap on his shoulder made him turn away.
“Owen, darling, how are you this evening?” said a familiar female voice.
Georgina stood behind him, a welcoming smile on her lips. Owen did his usual quick husband-seeking scan of the room before leaning in close.
“Apart from the thousand cuts I have on my body, I am well. Thank you for asking,” he replied. Normally he would have been gifting Georgina with one of his standard come-on lines, but tonight he didn’t feel it. His body was still bruised from his fall.
“Oh, Owen darling. Don’t tell me you are angry over a little tumble out the window? Why don’t you come home tonight, and I can make you feel better?” she offered.
He needed sexual release. His balls were threatening to turn blue, and the lady by his side was promising him blessed relief. But the thought of the young woman Antonio had been flirting with stayed center in Owen’s mind.
“How about we go and find a glass of wine, and you go home alone instead?” he said.
Owen ignored Georgina’s huff of disappointment as he led her toward the nearest footman bearing a tray of drinks. His mind was focused on finding out who the young woman was and doing all he could to beat Antonio to her favors.
“Please tell me you have not gone mad,” said Colin.
Amy winced. She had experienced a moment of temporary brain fog when Antonio had first asked for her last name, but for the rest of the conversation she’d been sure of what she was doing.
She had sat silent in the carriage on the way home, ignoring Colin’s hard stare. As soon as they were inside the front door, she’d dismissed her maid and the footman who were waiting for them. She did not need servants listening in on the private argument that was brewing between her and Colin.
She pointed toward the staircase, following Colin as he took the lead. Once inside the sitting room, she closed the door behind her. After pouring them both a generous glass of wine, she wandered over to where Colin had taken a seat by the fire. He barely nodded as Amy handed him his drink.
He was angry and she couldn’t blame him. He was a member of the nobility and had suffered the indignity of having to stand and watch his sister as she flirted with a stranger.
Amy placed her wine glass on a nearby low table before taking a seat on the floor. One of her favorite pastimes when the family was visiting town was to sit in front of this fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, and stare for hours into the flames.
She draped her cloak about her, hoping that she would soon be warm enough to feel drowsy and then find rest. She couldn’t fall asleep unless she was toasty.
“Thank you for saving me when it came to my last name. I had thought up a Christian name, but to be honest, not a family one. I was about to tell him my real name, which would have caused some problems. Mrs. Smith is a good solid and forgettable surname,” she replied.
While she had been in a flummox over her name, her brain had quickly implemented the rest of her plan to overcome the problem of her being an unwed miss who was attempting to seduce a renowned rake. By posing as an abandoned wife, she would stand a much better chance of getting Owen’s attention.
That left one other major problem.
Colin.
With her brother hanging on her arm, she knew she would struggle to make any real headway. Being Colin, he would be protective of his sister and her reputation. But what she needed in order to succeed was to set aside both her name and her reputation as an innocent miss.
“Now you are not going to like what I have to say, but I need you to listen before you assail me with a long list of reasons why I shouldn’t do it,” she ventured.
Colin set his glass to his lips and took a large sip of wine. He stared down at her. “Go on.”
“I realized this evening that a man like Owen Morrison would not trifle with a miss such as myself. Or, as one of the other guests so crudely put it, he would not stoop to tupping a young woman who had not been married long,” she said.
Colin flinched. “Don’t let Mama hear you say that word; she would be most displeased.”
Of course, their mother would be disgusted to hear Amy say such a thing. Lady Perry was from a fine country family and had never taken to the coarse ways of London. But they were in London, and if Amy was going to play the game the same as everyone else in this dirty city, then she’d have to adapt.
“Well Mama is not here, and she is not facing the same problem that I am.”
“So that is why you decided to become an abandoned wife? To make yourself more appealing to him. Amy, please don’t lower yourself to the level of these men.”
She sighed. Colin tended to see things in black and white, but for this delicate operation she would need to work outside the lines and in grey.
“How am I to get to know Owen Morrison in any sort of meaningful way if he keeps his distance? I won’t be able to, and that is the simple, cold truth. That is why I decided that I am going to become Mrs. Smith. By doing so, it means that you do not need to chaperone me to every function and it also gives me leeway when it comes to private meetings with him,” she replied.
Colin shook his head. “No. You cannot ask me to do that. What happens if he decides to seduce you? If you suddenly find yourself alone with him in his bedroom, what will you do? If I am not there to protect you, Owen Morrison could very well have his way. Then where would you be?”
She sat for a minute and considered her brother’s concerns. The worst that could happen would be that if Owen did succeed in taking her to his bed she would have to go through with the marr
iage. Considering that one of her reasons for coming to London in the first place was to get the measure of the man before deciding whether to commit to the union or not, she could see that Colin thought he had a valid point.
“But he won’t know who I am, nor that I am an unmarried woman. The point is moot. What is important is that we form a real connection,” she said.
“The point is bloody well not moot. If he takes you to his bed, then you are ruined. And after that, if you decide you don’t want to marry him, then no other potential husband is going to want . . . soiled goods. Not to mention the fact that you run the risk of pregnancy,” replied Colin.
She understood his position. He was only trying to protect her. To make sure that she didn’t put herself into a position where marriage to Owen was the only option. “I will be careful. Have no doubt I am well aware of the risks I am taking and the consequences if things go awry. The worst thing that could happen would be for me to have to marry a man whose love I shall never have; I will do everything to avoid that life of heartache.”
But there were ways to get close to Owen without allowing him the ultimate prize. Colin may think his sister was innocent when it came to men, but the local village minister’s son had taught her a great deal during their private assignations in the woods behind the Perry family estate. While she was still technically a virgin, she knew how to bring a man to his knees.
“How would this sit with you, Colin? If we attend evening functions, you remain in the background. If I need your assistance, I can then call on you to intervene. In exchange, I shall promise not to go anywhere outside of public spaces with Owen,” she said.
“Or any other gentleman. I understand what you are trying to achieve. But don’t forget—Papa gave you a degree of latitude in order to see how you feel about this marriage; he did not, however, give his blessing to have his only daughter ruined. I agree that when we attend evening functions, I shall keep my distance. I know Kendal Grant, so we don’t want a situation where he suddenly pops up and Owen discovers through me who you really are. And yes, all other meetings with Owen are to be conducted during the day and in public places.”
Owen: Regency Rockstars Page 7