“You l-look l-lovely, Lady L-Lissa,” he said.
“Thank you, Chesney,” Lissa said, feeling sorry for all the L’s he was forced to stumble over.
Lissa glanced about them, wondering how Lavinia was faring.
“I g-gather you are looking for him to arrive,” said Chesney.
“Excuse me?” said Lissa, returning her attention to her dance partner.
“L-Lord Wylde. You are s-searching for him in the c-crowd.”
Lissa tried not to overreact, but her body stiffened in spite of that resolve. “What do you mean?” Gracious, she thought, has Tilly’s rumor spread so far as to be dangerous?
Chesney, his face turning beet red, missed a step, corrected himself, then blushed a deeper shade of crimson. “W-word is, my lady, that you… you and L-Lord Wylde are e-enamored of each other.”
Lissa’s blood turned cold. Surely her servants had not taken word of her foolish plot of a liaison to all the hamlets of the countryside!
“The Earl of Wylde and I hardly know each other, Chesney,” she assured the young man, hoping he’d repeat her vow a thousandfold tonight. “In fact, he is not even on the guest list for this evening. Now tell me, Chesney, were I to favor a gentleman, would I not invite him to join us on this very special natal day of my friend?”
“Well, y-yes,” agreed Chesney, and then, suddenly, his attention was diverted.
Chesney’s gaze fixed solidly on the door to the great hall. In fact, Lissa noted, the eyes of every other person in attendance were fastened on that doorway.
She turned her head.
There, within the high-arched door, stood none other than Gabriel Gordon, the sixth Earl of Wylde.
Chapter 9
Lissa felt her heart tremble a beat at the sight of Lord Wylde standing so arrogantly at the threshold of a soiree he’d not been invited to attend. He looked like thunder on the hoof, and even from across the room his sheer height and the breadth of his shoulders seemed to dwarf every man present.
He was dressed entirely in black, the only relief being the show of snowy linen at his throat and cuffs, and the wink of a sapphire stickpin nestled in his intricate neckcloth. His hair was brushed to a high sheen and was now angled back, leaving every nuance of his harsh-planed face in clear view.
There was no denying the storm clouds in his dark gaze… and no denying that his eyes were fixed solely upon her. The man clearly had a plot of his own this night!
For an impossibly long moment it seemed that the entire room became hushed, as though all the guests in their beautiful finery were but a painting, caught and stilled by an artist’s brush.
‘Twas a ridiculous notion, of course, Lissa thought, for the music continued and the dancers still moved about the floor. But even though no one physically came to a standstill, there existed a certain rent in the atmosphere. Lord Wylde would have made a quieter entrance had he simply ridden a destrier directly into their midst!
Behind discreetly held fans was being murmured a volley of words—all beginning and ending with the fact that the sixth Earl of Wylde was staging a most shocking comeback. Years after being cast out of Society due to the untimely and ugly death of his would-be bride, it was quite apparent to all present that his lordship, who had lived the life of a recluse of late, had eyes this night for Lady Lissa Arianna Lovington! The very room seemed to palpitate with an outrageous energy.
Lissa felt panic flare inside of her. Until this very moment she had stupidly clung to the small hope that the rumor of her supposed liaison had gone no farther than a few servants. Now, however, with all in attendance being interested spectators, she realized she had erred in that assumption. Good breeding and politeness had obviously stayed the lips of her many guests. It was painfully clear that everyone had merely been biding their time before remarking upon the rumor that had indeed spread all around the shire.
Lissa’s face flamed. She missed a step, shook her head, then mumbled an apology to Chesney.
“Th-think nothing of it,” said Chesney, his own face registering concern as he looked beyond her. “Need I come to your r-rescue, do you think? I-I may not be of Lord Wylde’s ilk, my l-lady, but I am prepared to stay by your s-side should he become unpleasant.”
Heavens, but Lissa hadn’t intended for any of her suitors to claim they would slay a dragon on her behalf!
“Do not be silly, Chesney,” she said. “His lordship has but made an unannounced appearance. There is no reason to believe he will be anything but a gentleman this night.”
“Forgive me for saying so, my l-lady, but Lord Wylde has not earned the title of ‘the H-hheartless One’ for no reason.”
There it was again; that odious label! “That was years ago,” Lissa insisted. “The man was much younger—and doubtless more foolhardy.”
“From what I’ve heard, his lordship was a great many things, my lady. Few of them p-pleasant.”
Lissa wished an end to this conversation, to this set, and mayhap even this entire day.
It was Wylde who managed the deed—in ending the set, at least.
He stepped into the great hall and moved immediately to the musicians. He spoke briefly with one of them—a musician who did not even miss a beat while nodding at whatever his lordship had requested—and then he backed away. Suddenly, the polonaise ended, and the lead musician announced that a waltz would be the next dance.
Of course it would be a waltz, thought Lissa, irritated, and seeing that Lord Wylde was now headed toward her with strong purpose.
Chesney, in a quandary as to whether or not he should be so bold as to claim two dances in a row with Lissa and thus leave himself prey to a confrontation with Wylde, fidgeted. His offer of assistance and to remain by her side seemed suddenly to have vanished.
Lord Langford, however, chose that moment to step between them. He held out one glove-covered hand to Lissa.
“May I have this dance, Lady Lissa?”
Lissa glanced at Chesney. The younger gentleman, relieved by Langford’s interference, bowed off, then hastened toward Lavinia, claiming her hand for the waltz, glad enough not to have to meet with the fury of one Lord Wylde.
Lissa was just about to accept Langford’s offer when Wylde intervened. Like a brooding cloud whipping inland from a raging sea, Lord Wylde came beside her.
“I believe the lady has promised the first waltz to me,” Wylde said to Langford, voice cool and brooking no argument.
Lord Langford, unlike the young Chesney, was not so easily frightened off.
“Greetings, Wylde,” Langford drawled, in no hurry to back down. “Hadn’t known you were to make an appearance tonight. In fact, last I’d heard, you had disappeared totally from Polite Society… not that anyone bemoaned your absence, of course.”
Lord Wylde barely batted an eye at the insult. “You, Langford, and all other members of polite company can be dully informed that I have returned,” he replied, steel in his voice.
Lissa was aghast at their exchange. She saw Lord Wylde’s tight-lipped frown, noted that telltale muscle jerking along his strong jawline, and knew a moment of dread.
“Gentlemen, please,” she whispered.
Wylde’s black gaze did not leave Langford’s face. “I believe the lady fears the two of us might be so base as to resort to fisticuffs in front of her guests. Is that what this moment will be reduced to, Langford?”
“Not likely,” scoffed his lordship. “You and your ilk have forever been beneath me, Wylde.”
“Interesting,” said the Earl of Wylde. “I have long held the same opinion of you, Langford.”
Though Wylde said the words with an unruffled air, Lissa noted the ominous gleam in his eyes. Lord Langford was treading on dangerous ground—yet he seemed foolishly bent on continuing along that hazardous path.
“I see you have not changed, Wylde,” Langford replied. “You remain as contemptible as I and a great many other people recall. Do not for one minute believe members of the Polite World will welcome you b
ack into their bosom.”
“I shall take that into consideration, Langford.” The musicians struck a chord with their instruments, the other dancers moving into position with their partners. Wylde, taking hold of Lissa’s right elbow, motioned with just a nod for Langford to take his leave. “Now if you will excuse us, the lady and I have a waltz to dance.”
Langford smiled coldly, inclining his leonine head with mocking grace. “I shall beg off only when Lady Lissa insists that I do so,” he warned, then turned his gaze to Lissa. “My lady? What is your wish?”
Truth be known, Lissa wished them both to Jericho! At the moment, however, Lord Wylde’s savage black mood outweighed all other matters. She made her choice in an instant.
” ‘Tis true,” she said to Langford, the white lie making her insides twist—though not as much as Wylde’s black stare was doing. “Lord Wylde did indeed request the first waltz.”
Langford obviously did not believe her, but he was too much of a gentleman to remark upon that fact.
“So be it, then,” he murmured, bowing graciously to her, his blue eyes soft on hers. “I shall claim the next dance then, and the next waltz, yes?”
Lissa, just wishing for this uncomfortable moment to be over with, nodded. “Yes, of course, Lord Langford.”
Langford’s private smile at her deepened, and then, with a practiced gentleness Lissa found disturbing, he lifted her gloved hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before begging off. To Wylde, he said, “You heard the lady, sir. The next dance is mine.” With that, he moved through the crowd of dancers, heading for the side of the room.
Wylde watched him go, his lips tightening into an even darker line. “What an insufferable fool,” he muttered. “You will not be dancing with him. Not tonight or any other.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Yes, of course I heard you, but I do not believe what you just uttered. How dare you even assume to tell me with whom I can and cannot—”
“Not now,” Wylde cut in. “The music has fully begun, and your guests, Lady Lissa, are staring. Let us not disappoint them, hmm?”
As though his purpose had increased a thousandfold, Wylde wrapped one arm possessively about Lissa’s waist, took her other hand firmly in his and then swept her fully into the waltz.
Lissa was forced to endure the lacing of his long fingers with hers, of their bodies meeting. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until she felt his warm body mold with hers, had not realized what a shockingly intimate dance the waltz truly was until she’d danced it with Wylde.
There seemed to be just the two of them, the outer world beginning and ending with his arm encircling her waist. Lissa’s nose reached to the height of his shoulders, but she saw nothing beyond them other than a dizzying blur of light from the massed candles in the huge crystal chandeliers above.
Lord Wylde said nothing, waiting as Lissa recovered herself and caught the rhythm of the dance, eventually moving to his smooth lead.
He stared down into her eyes, then moved his head closer to hers, so that his lips hovered near her left ear. “Very well, Lady Lissa,” he whispered, his breath making a stray lock of her bright hair tremble, “now you may say whatever it is that is on your mind.”
Lissa forcefully ignored how the rest of her body trembled with his whispered words. “I am thinking,” she whispered furiously, “what a perfectly improper person you are being this night, sir!”
“Easy now,” he crooned, his fingers threading more tightly between her own, “your jaw is clenching, I fear. We wouldn’t want your guests to get the wrong impression about our dancing together, would we?”
Lissa felt at the end of her tether. She’d been under a huge strain from the moment she’d espied Lord Wylde standing in the doorway with that dark look of hell-bent intention on his unmatchable face, and now, unfortunately, she was beginning to wear beneath that strain. If his lordship had come to queer her game, he was doing a remarkable job!
“You treated Lord Langford most shabbily, sir,” she whispered hotly, not deigning to comment on his mention of her guests and what they did or did not think of her dancing with him.
“Yes, I did, didn’t I? Would’ve liked to have done more than that, too.”
“How very barbaric your behavior is this night!”
“I shan’t disagree. Cast the blame on all the years I have spent in seclusion.”
“I shall cast the blame where it belongs, sir; directly at your own feet.”
Wylde whirled her about in a perfect turn. “Cast whatever you like, wherever you wish,” he said. ” ‘Twill make no difference, Lady Lissa. Langford is no more than an ugly slug in a very dirty pond. In truth, I’ve the urge to crush him beneath my boot toe.”
Lissa drew in a sharp gasp. “Sir, I will remind you that his lordship is an invited guest here this evening!”
“Unlike myself.”
Lissa blanched at the intended rub. “H-had I but thought you would reply in the affirmative, sir, I would have sent an invitation.”
“Oh?” Clearly, he did not believe her.
“Y-yes. Of course.”
“You could have issued the invitation in person,” he suggested. “This morning, for instance. While the two of us were alone in my river hut… ‘Twould have been a most opportune time, don’t you think?”
Lissa’s mouth formed a frown even as a definite blush suffused her cheeks. He was playing a cat-and-mouse game with her, and obviously enjoying every moment of being the cat.
“To be quite honest, sir, my mind at that time was not on an invitation, or the lack of one. It was instead focused on angling, handmade flies and—and such.”
“Such as what, Lissa?”
His use of her Christian name unsettled her. “The locket,” she said, not liking where this conversation was threading.
“Ah, yes. Your precious locket. The thing that is perhaps more priceless than any of Prinny’s jewels, or anything in Carlton House. A locket you cannot even fully describe. I should love to one day view this all-important piece of jewelry, Lissa”
“Then simply catch the trout that ate it, sir!” she snapped. “And how dare you presume to address me by my Christian name?”
“I dare a great deal—considering what the two of us shared in my hut. Do you remember that, Lissa? Do you remember how I touched you… here?” He pulled their clasped hands toward her face, touching one gloved finger to the soft bow of her upper lip.
Lissa pulled her face back. ” ‘Tis clear your boldness knows no bounds this night.”
He merely smiled at her—a controlled lifting of his mouth that did not fool her. Lissa decided miserably that she ought to have stayed abed this morn instead of going out in search of this man. To think she had at one time sought to use him to her advantage….
What a perfect fool she’d been! He was beneath contempt, was, in fact, everything vile she’d learned about him over the past few weeks.
“A penny for your thoughts, Lissa,” Wylde murmured into her ear.
For everyone watching it no doubt appeared as though he was whispering some sweet nothing to her, sharing a private thought, a sultry compliment, perhaps.
Lissa stiffened. She had had quite enough of Lord Wylde’s duplicitous dance. “You go too far, sir,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Not nearly as far as you have gone.”
Lissa drew back, horrified, as she stared up into his impossibly black eyes. She knew then for certain what she’d only suspected the moment he’d arrived, unannounced. Her heart fell.
“You have heard the rumor,” she said, a part of her fearing his verbal answer.
“Aye, Lissa,” he growled, head dipping as he whispered once more into the shell of her ear, this time more insistently, “I have heard how you so boldly cast your name with mine.”
She swallowed convulsively as the sound of his ragged voice funneled inside of her. “I—I can explain,” she began.
/> “Of course you can, and you will.” It was not just a statement, but a threat. Wylde suddenly danced her toward the French doors opened onto the terrace.
“What are you doing?” Lissa demanded.
“We are going to have this out.”
“On the terrace? For all to see?”
“Isn’t that what you wished for? For everyone to see us together, Lissa? To draw conclusions about the two of us?”
His very insistence caused Lissa to clamp her mouth shut in abject horror. She felt the eyes of everyone upon them.
Appalled, she could not believe that his lordship intended to make such a show as to waltz her right out of the room.
But he did exactly that.
He danced her toward the opened doors, twirled her once beneath them, then moved her artfully just a step into the patterned darkness and cool night air….
Amidst a slanting of light from the chandeliers, he paused, gathered Lissa’s body closer to his, and then he kissed her for all to see!
It was not like their kisses at the river hut—at least, not like their final kisses there had been. No, this kiss had nothing to do with eliciting a response in Lissa, but had everything to do with making a statement to one and all of her gathered guests! In fact, it was over before it had begun.
As the strains of the waltz played out to a final note, Wylde, his mouth still touching hers, neatly whirled Lissa out of sight from the assemblage, into a shaft of darkness at the other end of the terrace.
Lissa yanked out of his hold. “What a nasty trick!”
“You think so?” he murmured, content for the moment to let her back away.
“Yes, I do! What a foul and utterly devious ploy to play upon me!”
Something snapped in his darkling gaze.“No more devious than the one you masterminded upon me, Lady Lissa. Tell me,” he demanded, “had you thought of forming a liaison with me before or after you begged me to catch the trout that ate your locket?”
With his accusation she felt a sudden, undeniable revolt of her stomach. Lissa clapped one hand to her mouth, not certain she wouldn’t be violently ill.
Lady Lissa's Liaison (To Woo an Heiress, Book 1) Page 10