Reckless Viscount

by Amy Sandas

  All she could do was concentrate on keeping her breath even and regulating the warmth that burned in her cheeks. She prayed her heightened color would be overlooked under the bright lights of the ballroom.

  It wasn’t even embarrassment that heated her skin and made her feel as if she had just run twice the length of the ballroom.

  No, the flush of heat was caused by the sound of his voice. The flashing memory of how he had looked at her in the quiet of the library, the way his eyes inquired and his smile twisted with humor. She had hoped she would never encounter him again because she knew it would be like this. Too much sensation. Too much intensity. Everything she needed to avoid.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” Lady Blackbourne queried sharply.

  “That’s a nice greeting,” Lord Riley shot back with quick humor, his breath disturbing wisps of hair at Abbigael’s nape. He didn’t seem the least bit put off by the countess’s lack of enthusiasm at his presence.

  “This ball abounds with debutantes and husband hunters,” Rutherford interjected. “Not your typical milieu, Riley.”

  There was a distinct note of condemnation in the marquess’s voice that pricked Abbigael’s curiosity.

  “Nor yours, old man,” Riley replied. He sounded more amused than annoyed by the other man’s animosity. “Or have you decided to grace one of the Terribury daughters with a proposal? Twins out this year, isn’t it?”

  Rutherford blanched and Riley laughed at his distress. The rich rumbling sound softened some of the tension in Abbigael’s stiff spine without her voluntary compliance.

  It was beginning to feel very odd standing there with her back to the gentleman behind her. But he wouldn’t step around to face her and she still couldn’t seem to motivate herself into motion either. She much preferred to avoid facing the man while her senses still rioted within her and the reactions of her body resisted her control.

  “Gentlemen,” Lady Blackbourne started. There was a note of caution in her voice as she stepped forward with a forced smile. “People may already be watching and I will not have you ruin Miss Granger’s chances before she’s fully out of the gate.”

  “Could that happen?” Abbigael asked in alarm.

  “Not likely,” the countess assured her quickly, but the thread of agitation in her voice belied the statement.

  Abbigael glanced around and noticed several pairs of eyes in the near vicinity had settled on their little group with growing curiosity. She had no desire to be involved in negative gossip, even if it was at the periphery of a male rivalry that had nothing to do with her.

  “Why don’t you scurry back to the band of reprobates you call friends,” Lord Rutherford suggested snidely to Riley as if he hadn’t even heard the comments that passed between the women.

  “How long does it take these days before ladies start yawning in your presence?” Riley retaliated.

  “Not as fast as they lose their money in yours.”

  “Enough,” Lady Blackbourne interjected with quiet command, narrowing her eyes with the kind of impatience reserved for women suffering the propensities of stubborn men. “Leif, stop being difficult and step back from poor Miss Granger. It is far too hot in here for you to be crowding her so mercilessly. And you,” she said, sending a dark glance toward Rutherford, “keep out of this.”

  “Of course,” the marquess replied drolly, “though you do realize my presence is likely the only thing saving the young lady from scandal.”

  “Perhaps I should go for a stroll about the room,” Abbigael suggested, wanting nothing more than to remove herself from the little drama that encircled her.

  “I’ll escort you.”

  Abbigael stiffened at Lord Riley’s offer. She had no desire to go anywhere with the rakish gentleman who roused her senses too readily. But his persistent nearness had managed to scramble her wits a bit and she struggled to come up with a reasonable excuse. Luckily, she didn’t need to.

  “No, you will not,” the countess countered in a stern tone then paused to smile reassuringly at Abbigael.

  “Rutherford was exaggerating, dear,” Lady Blackbourne insisted. “I am more than sufficient as a chaperone. Though you two already ran into each other at Silvery, let’s make this introduction official, shall we, so we can be done with it all the quicker.”

  The countess waved her hand in a beckoning gesture to the man still standing indecently close behind Abbigael. The man who hadn’t listened a whit when the countess told him to back away, and had actually chuckled at the admonishment so that Abbigael had felt his amusement through the vibration of his body more than heard it. The man who made Abbigael feel more aware of herself than she had ever known was possible.

  That man now stepped around to face her.

  “Lord Riley, may I present Miss Granger. Miss Granger, meet Lord Riley, a very old and often vexing friend of mine.”

  Abbigael lifted her gaze and met the swirling kaleidoscope of colors present in his eyes. Tonight, they weren’t quite so richly golden as she remembered from the library. Perhaps it was the stark lighting of the ballroom that brought out the deeper flecks of blue and green nestled within the gold. Whatever it was, the effect was beautiful and mesmerizing.

  No man should be allowed to be so attractive.

  For some reason, coming face-to-face with this man had an odd effect on her mental function, and just as when she had turned around in the Blackbourne library to find him watching her, she was once again rendered utterly speechless.

  He arched one brow a bit higher than the other with impudent amusement and the angles of his lips spread into an engaging grin. She could see by the devilish curl of his lips that he had done this intentionally. He knew what reactions he would incite when he decided to approach their small group. It was likely he even knew exactly why she could do nothing but stare at him now.

  The warmth of his gaze caressed her face and Abbigael felt a rekindling sense that he saw her as no one ever had before. A delicate chill slid down the back of her neck, a sign of forewarning.

  Her mother’s kin would have considered it a bad omen. Abbigael called it intuition.

  “Miss Granger, a pleasure.” His bow was executed in a way that was elegant and masculine at the same time and his eyes flashed with humor. “Please tell me you are not a member of the growing mass of young ladies on the hunt for a husband.”

  Abbigael took umbrage at the way he grouped her among all the fresh debutantes who flounced about the ballroom with stars in their eyes. Never mind that she did have aspirations to receive an offer of marriage during her stay in London, her search for a husband was far too important to her for her to accept the flippant way he referenced it.

  Annoyance dispersed any lingering fog from her brain.

  “Would it discourage your attention if I said that I am?” Abbigael asked smartly.

  Riley chuckled. “Definitely. It also goes a long way toward explaining why you would suffer a conversation with that over-mannered bore.” He jerked his tawny head toward Rutherford then leaned toward her to add beneath his breath. “I could save you some trouble. I’ve heard he’s not worth the effort.”

  “Poor cad doesn’t recognize respectability when he sees it,” Rutherford muttered with false sympathy.

  Lord Riley ignored the comment, never glancing away from Abbigael’s face. That was one of his tricks, she realized, making a woman feel as if she captured his attention completely, as if nothing and no one else mattered.

  It was a good trick, she noted as she fought to moderate her rising pulse.

  “You don’t have to remain chained to these two, you know,” he encouraged, a spark flaring in his multi-colored gaze. “Cast your lot with me and you’ll discover the adventure to be found once you escape the doldrums of polite society.”

  “Leif…” the countess warned.

  Abbigael resisted the urge to stiffen in offense. He was trying to shock her and throw her off balance, just as he had at their first meeting, except this
time there were witnesses. She could be grateful at least that only the countess and Lord Rutherford were close enough to hear the scandalous offer. But still, Lord Riley needed to be made aware that she was not so easily manipulated.

  She smiled brightly and was pleased to see the spark in his eyes flicker a bit in uncertainty.

  “My lord, your inappropriate suggestions are completely wasted on me. I am far too dedicated to my goals to allow myself to fall victim to the momentary distraction of a careless rogue.”

  “Well said,” Rutherford noted approvingly.

  Rather than succeeding as a set down, as she’d hoped, her comment seemed to please Lord Riley. His grin was wide and a soft laugh rumbled from his chest.

  “My dear girl, I know for a fact I can change your mind.”

  “That’s enough!” the countess exclaimed with a touch of panic in her voice.

  At the same time, Lord Rutherford stepped forward. “They have started up a waltz. Miss Granger, will you honor me in a dance?”

  Abbigael looked at the marquess, surprised by the offer. But she recovered herself quickly enough to take the arm he extended.

  “Of course, my lord,” she replied, and within a few breaths he had swept her out into the center of the dance floor with his powerful strides. It was all she could do to keep up with him without stumbling.

  Lord Rutherford led her into the dance easily. His athletic agility and strength lent a polished grace to his movements as he guided them through the sweeping steps of the waltz.

  After only a couple turns, he cleared his throat.

  “I should let you know right away that I am not interested in marriage.”

  The comment was so unexpected that Abbigael almost missed a step and would have come down on his foot if not for his total command of the dance and his quick alteration.

  She stared up at him in confusion, feeling an odd urge to laugh. He hadn’t even bothered to look at her as he spoke. His gaze remained trained over her head.

  “All right,” she finally replied, feeling as if she had to say something to at least acknowledge his odd declaration.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched and he glanced down at her without tipping his head. “I realize my declaration was abrupt and it is not my intention to be callous. However, upfront honesty is the best way to avoid the encouragement of fruitless hope.”

  His arrogance was indisputable, but Abbigael also got the strong sense that he truly believed he was being considerate in issuing the matrimonial warning. She decided she could forgive him his unintentional rudeness. A man of his social caliber undoubtedly had ladies throwing themselves at him in a never ending stream.

  But his statement did raise one particular question.

  “My lord, if you did not wish to encourage my interest, why then did you bother to ask me to dance?”

  Lord Rutherford raised an imperious brow. He was obviously not accustomed to having his motives questioned. On anything. Abbigael realized too late that her inquiry could be considered insolent, but he wasn’t likely to become a suitor anyway so there was no reason not to be as forthright as he was.

  He narrowed his eyes before replying. “Miss Granger, I am likely dooming some poor man to misery in the future, but since it will not be me, I feel at ease in acknowledging that on you impertinence is rather attractive. You should practice such boldness of speech more often.”

  “I appreciate the sanction, my lord,” Abbigael retorted with a smile, “but you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Quite right,” Rutherford admitted then paused as he seemed to consider his answer. “I asked you to dance because it looked as though Riley might.”

  Abbigael glanced over to where Lady Blackbourne had been joined by her husband and a few older gentlemen. Lord Riley had left the group.

  She ignored the sinking pull of disappointment in her stomach and looked back to her partner.

  “You thought to thwart him because you dislike him?”

  Rutherford glanced down at her again. This time, a wrinkle of consternation had furrowed between his brows. The man really did not enjoy explaining himself. After a moment he sighed, and for some reason decided to indulge her curiosity.

  “I thwart him because it is amusing to do so.” Her expression must have revealed her further confusion because he gave a sound that could almost have been classified as a brief chuckle. “A petty maneuver and I should be ashamed of myself. But that scoundrel’s cocksure arrogance needs to be knocked down a few pegs.”

  “I see,” she responded quietly, wondering if the elegant lord realized he’d just become the pot to Riley’s kettle. She had to glance away to hide her amusement.

  Lord Rutherford took her on a few more turns before he spoke again.

  “You dance delightfully, Miss Granger.”

  Abbigael blinked at the blatant lie. She was an awkward and uninspired dancer.

  “But now that I’ve made my point to Riley, I would prefer to exit the dance floor. May I escort you to the refreshment table?”

  Abbigael realized she didn’t have much of a choice as Lord Rutherford turned and pulled her hand through his arm the moment he finished speaking. Before she could form a reply, they were halfway across the ballroom.

  “Not many people contradict your wishes, do they?” she asked in amusement.

  Rutherford kept his gaze straight ahead and replied without a hint of contrition. “No. Why should they?”

  The refreshments were set up in a separate room just off from the ballroom. As they neared the double-door entrance, it became obvious that getting through the crush of people overflowing from the small ante-room was going to be difficult.

  It may have been Rutherford’s imposing shoulder breadth that allowed them to get through the initial flow of guests, but once inside there were hundreds more people and very little movement.

  Rutherford frowned over most of the heads of those around them.

  “How is it that everyone decides they need punch at the same time? There are at least seventy-six people between us and the refreshment table.”

  Abbigael smiled at his exact figure. “Are you sure there even are refreshments in this room? Perhaps we’ve wandered into an impromptu mob of sorts. I cannot see more than two bodies past our present position.”

  Her escort looked down at her from his great solid height then lifted his gaze to glance over her head and scan the wall behind her.

  “Miss Granger, there seems to be a reasonable concern that you could get crushed in a crowd like this. I will have more success managing this task without you. Do wait for me against the wall beside that door. I will return to you posthaste.”

  Without waiting for her acquiescence, he turned and within seconds was swallowed up by the crowd. Her amusement was replaced by exasperation at the unceremonious abandonment. Abbigael had no choice but to turn in the direction he had pointed and hope she found the right spot to await his return.

  Chapter Five

  For a woman as slight as Abbigael, making one’s way against the flow of a thirsty crowd was no easy feat. She was rewarded with a few elbow jabs and shoulder bumps that nearly knocked her off her feet more than once by the time she reached the slightly less populated area along the edge of the room. She worried she may have gotten turned around, but she found the door Lord Rutherford had indicated. A door anyway, and the wall beside it was cool and solid when she pressed her back to it.

  She released the heavy breath she had been holding, deciding whether Lord Rutherford came back for her or not, she was not moving from the wall until the crowd thinned. She barely finished her exhale when someone stepped in front of her, wrapped a solid masculine arm around her waist and whisked her away from her spot as if she were nothing more than vapors being blown by the wind.

  Her shock at the abduction tumbled quickly into a complicated sense of exhilaration when she looked up and recognized the angled lines of Lord Riley’s stunning profile.

  “What are you…?” she sputt
ered in confusion just as he swept her through the nearby door and into the narrow darkened hallway beyond. The door shut solidly behind them, shutting them off from the thousands of other people at the party.

  “Relax, Irish. It’s just me.” He spoke in a whisper, and in the sudden darkness it was her only means of orientation. That, and the fact that his arm was still wrapped around her waist, pulling her up tightly to his side. His chest was solid and warm against hers, his shoulders wide beneath her hands, and in the air hovered a subtle suggestion of tobacco and cedar.

  Her lungs tightened, but not with fear. And her heart jumped into a quick tattoo.

  Relax? What a ridiculous suggestion.

  “My lord,” she began, inserting a stern note into her voice. She moved her hand from his shoulder to press it against his chest as she tried to angle her body away from him. He didn’t loosen his hold. “What exactly do you think you are doing?”

  “Exactly?” he quipped.

  Abbigael could hear the smile in his low voice.

  “Well, I stole you away from the bright and glittering ball so we may stand alone together in a darkened hallway.”

  “Why?” She shifted her feet and twisted her shoulders in another attempt to dislodge herself from his arms, but got nowhere.

  “Crushing crowds can be a dreadful hindrance to private conversation.”

  “We have nothing private to say to each other. I insist you let me go.” She pushed at the arm encircling her waist.

  “Why?” he asked in an almost perfect mimic of her tone when she had asked the same question seconds earlier. “Does this make you nervous?”

  He adjusted his stance so their bodies met from knee to chest as he brought his other arm up to join the first around her back. Her heart bounced down to her stomach and then back up again. Sparkling stars appeared behind her eyes and she realized she had stopped breathing. She gulped in a breath, and as her lungs filled swiftly with air, her breasts pressed into his chest and her knees went a little weak.