Diana straightened. “She doesn’t frighten me.”
“That makes one of us,” Grace mumbled.
Darlington and Malice entered the room again and crossed over to where the ladies stood. Tendrils of energy zipped through Cordelia as Malice approached. She looked down, carefully studying the carpet until he disappeared from her peripheral view.
“What are we discussing?” Darlington asked with a smile as he placed his arm about his new bride.
Minnie gave him a tight smile. “A ball my cousins are hoping we can escort them to.”
Darlington’s eyes narrowed. “Of course we can, but I’m curious to know why everyone looks as though we’re going to a funeral instead of a ball.”
Cordelia sucked in a breath. They’d been caught. She took a step back, not sure she wanted to participate in this conversation. The day had been full of drama as it was. But as she moved she bumped into a solid mass behind her. “Oh. I’m sorry.” She spun, already suspicious about who was positioned at her back. But her skirts tangled in her legs and her foot knocked some boot and then she tumbled to the side.
A squeak erupted from her lips just as a large hand caught her in midair. As quickly as she’d been falling, she was righted again.
“You make a habit of falling in my presence,” Malice rumbled, his hand still firmly holding her rib cage.
She tried to pull away, discreetly of course, but his hand was far stronger than her small attempt to move. And besides, something about his large hand was rather comforting as they discussed Lady Abernath. “You make a habit of tripping me.”
He gave a low chuckle, the sound echoing through her.
“Don’t make him feel bad for catching you,” Grace clucked. “You’ve always been unsteady on your feet. It’s your vision.”
Cordelia’s nails dug into her palm. Cordelia had never, in her entire life, wanted to pull Grace’s hair more.
By way of answer, Malice reached up and adjusted Cordelia’s glasses on her nose, pushing them more firmly onto her face. “These things are too big for your tiny nose.”
Cordelia shrugged. “I should likely get a new pair.”
“We’ve gotten off topic,” Daring cut in. “The ball?”
Diana sniffed. “If you must know, Countess Abernath will be there.”
Darlington didn’t answer for several seconds. “I told you that we’d take care of the countess. You don’t need to attend.”
“My mother has already accepted the invitation. Unless you want to explain the situation, I suggest we attend.” Diana’s voice rising with each word. “Besides, I’ll not leave my fate to men I barely know and don’t trust.” Then her voice dropped. “And who run an illicit club for fun.”
Darlington’s spine snapped straight. “We run the club for profit.”
“The gambling and women are just bonuses?” Diana fired back.
“Enough,” Minnie said stepping between them. “My aunt will likely take them regardless, Tag, because it’s an excellent opportunity socially. Our choices are to go with them or send them alone.”
Darlington made a noise of dissent deep in his throat. But Malice, his hand still firmly on her rib cage, spoke, his voice reverberating through her. “I’ll go too. And, we’ll bring the Earl of Exmouth as well. It’s difficult for anyone to cause trouble when he’s around.”
Diana tsked. “Difficult, perhaps. But not impossible. I’ve managed it.”
Cordelia pressed her lips together. Then she touched her hand to Malice’s, the one still holding her close. Why did she like his touch so much? For a brief moment she wondered where the most trouble lay. Was it at the ball with the countess or right here with a man who’d offered her a suitable match? Her heart thudded in her chest at his touch. She was in grave danger, indeed.
Chapter Four
Malice stood against the wall of the packed ball room contemplating how he’d landed himself in such a place. He knew the exact circumstances, of course. What was shadowy was the why of it. How had he come to agree to attend, not only a ball, but one of the largest events to precede the season?
He hated such affairs. Give him hard-talking men with stiff drinks any day. There was truth in those men. But this, it was one big falsehood. From the clothes, that were meant to create a certain image, to the perfume, right down to the false laughter that filled the air, these balls were about how one appeared. Not who they really were.
His father had been a master of this sort of deception. On the outside, they’d seemed the perfect, loving father and son. All a lie.
Just in front of him. Cordelia stood with her sisters, her dress a lovely shade of pink that complimented the creaminess of her skin. Her hair was more loosely tied back, softer, with wisps about her face. But her glasses, they were still firmly on, and reminded him that she, unlike so many around him, was just herself. There was no pretension, no fiction. Just Cordelia.
Grace and Diana stood on either side of her filling their dance cards as Cordelia smiled politely.
An anger he hadn’t felt in ages bubbled inside him like a festering wound. How did no one see her? Really see what an honest and good woman she was? How attractive inside and out?
In a moment of sheer insanity, he pushed off the wall and stalked toward her. “Lady Cordelia,” he rumbled.
She jumped a bit, that sweet little tongue poking out to do a quick pass over her lip. “Yes, Lord Malicorn?”
“May I have a dance please?” He hated dancing. It was so intimate. First there was the touching. And then the eye contact. But worst of all, was how two people began to move as one, understanding passing between them. In other words, the act was full of the emotion he never wanted to feel. But somehow, he couldn’t stand back and watch her be passed over, either. Even worse was the idea of someone asking. His blood boiled at the thought of another man waltzing with her in the ballroom.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Did you have a particular dance in mind?”
“This one,” he answered, taking her hand and threading it through his elbow to pull her out on the floor.
Her fingers rested delicately on his arm. Mistakenly, he glanced over and caught a hint of cleavage out of the top her wide-necked gown. His body clenched and he drew in a deep breath.
“My lord,” she said moving closer so her hip brushed his.
His damn cock jumped to attention. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Cordelia was always meant to be the bride he didn’t give a wit about. Now he worried for her feelings, while his insides were hectic with attraction. When had that happened? He blamed that damn little tongue.
As if she’d read his mind, the thing darted out, her fingers digging more deeply into his arm. “Thank you for asking me to dance.”
“There is no need,” he replied.
She touched his other arm. “You and I both know that there is a need.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve gone back and forth, in my mind, about whether I made the right decision saying no to you. Perhaps yours is my only offer. Maybe I’m just not the sort of woman who gets love and romance.”
Bile rose in his throat along with words of protest. He swallowed them down. He’d wanted to disagree and tell her that she should hold out for a man who saw how special she was. But he clenched his teeth. He’d never make her feel that way, he didn’t want to or know how.
What he should do, was ask her to marry him again. In this moment of weakness, she’d likely say yes. Then he’d have what he’d wanted from the start. But somehow, he couldn’t subject her to emotional manipulation, either. She’d been the summer breeze of honest fresh air this ball had desperately required.
What he’d be taking away from her…
“Do you know what I admire about you?” he asked.
She looked over to him, her gaze wary. “I couldn’t say.”
He wanted to start by telling her all the places on his body he’d like that tongue to lick and all the parts he’d lick in return. But that wasn’t wha
t she needed. “Your honesty.” He found a spot on the dance floor and turned to her, taking her in his arms.
Her lips pursed. “That’s very kind.”
“I’m not being kind.” He began to spin her about the room. “My mother died in childbirth while having me. My father, I believe, secretly hated me because of it. He’d never admitted it of course.” He heard her gasp, but he kept going, somehow needing to say this. “But a person can feel when another doesn’t like him. When we were in public, he’d hug me. Pat my head. But in the privacy of our own home,” Malice gave a shiver. “It was a different story.”
She squeezed his forearm. “Oh, Lord Malicorn.”
But Malice shook his head. An overwhelming urge to tell her more of the truth rose up inside him. But he couldn’t do it here in front of everyone. And when he told her, he wanted her to say something more comforting than Lord Malicorn. He wanted her to call him by his given name. “My name is Chad…”
* * *
Chad. She whispered the name, simply testing it in her mouth. It felt nice, the way her tongue touched the back of her teeth.
He was spinning them with an efficiency that left her breathless and she barely had time to register where they were before they slid out the doors, cool night air touching her skin.
The night was still young and few guests had sought repose in the garden, making it easy for Malice to pull them onto a dark path.
Without a word, she found herself pressed against his body, the hard edges of him stealing her breath.
“Say my name again.”
“You heard me?” she gasped as he trailed his hand down her spine.
What was happening? She’d had a great many fantasies about romantic interludes in the garden but none of them had been this exciting. How odd. His proposal had been all business but his touch…
“I did, now say it, please, Cordelia.”
And then, heaven help her, he dropped his lips to the hollow of her neck and placed a light kiss on the skin. She felt as though she’d been struck by lightning as a bolt of pleasure shot through her. “Chad,” she said, his name sounding breathless and wanton.
He groaned in response even as his lips slid up the column of her neck until they reached her ear. “This is the opposite of what I wanted from you,” he said, his voice vibrating against her skin.
“I’m not sure I understand.” She leaned her head to the side to give him better access.
“I used the word suitable, Cordelia. I wanted a wife not a lover.” He gave her earlobe the smallest lick before he sucked it into his mouth.
Her insides turned to jelly. “I like this far better I think.”
He began kissing across her cheek, his lips placing a small kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Would you trade secret kisses in the garden for my marriage proposal?”
“Yes,” she replied without a second thought. “Most definitely yes.”
“Ask and you shall receive.” Then he covered her mouth with his.
She’d read more than a few books where the heroine received a kiss from the hero. She’d even attempted to write a scene such as this. But nothing had prepared her for the feel of his mouth nibbling at hers. The pressure of his lips as he kissed hers, first closed and then open, made her knees weak. When his tongue slid lightly against hers, she clutched his shoulders, the flood of tingly sensation making it difficult to stand or breathe or do anything but hold on.
Dimly, she was aware that he’d insinuated this kiss meant that he’d rescinded his marriage proposal. She didn’t care. This was so much better than suitable.
She had no idea how much time had passed but vaguely she became aware of a change in sound. Rather than music, she heard the stillness of the night and the sound of voices.
“Damn,” Malice muttered against her lips. “The dance is done.”
“Dance?” she asked pulling back a bit, her mind a jumbled mess.
He smiled in the dark and then lightly kissed her lips again, sliding his hands around her face to hold her cheeks. “This conversation isn’t finished.”
“This conversation never started,” she answered, attempting to blink away the confusion.
He chuckled. “Oh, we said a great deal, I think.”
“And yet I am more confused than ever,” she said as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
He looked this way and that, then pulled them from the shadows out into the light. Crossing swiftly to the patio doors, they stepped inside. “I’d like to say I could provide clarity, but I’m not certain I can.”
“Tell me one thing.” She stopped and looked over at him. “Did you rescind your offer of marriage?”
He frowned, looking down at her. “How could I rescind what you’ve already rejected?”
Cordelia’s mouth fell open. “I suppose that’s true.”
“You, Lady Cordelia Chase,” he leaned down close to her ear, “are stealing kisses in the garden and rejecting marriage proposals from marquesses.”
A shiver of delight danced down her spine. She snapped her open mouth closed and swallowed. Had he just done that for her? Had he inserted romantic innuendo into this night? She didn’t even care if he’d meant it or not. It was the greatest gift anyone had ever given her. And now she knew. There was a soft side to the Marquess of Malice after all. “Thank you for that.”
He started walking again and she allowed him to lead her, her thoughts swirling about. He’d asked her, just before he’d kissed her, if she’d trade the proposal for the kiss. She hadn’t hesitated and she didn’t regret her choice. But she had a feeling, he was unlikely to ask again.
For whatever reason he didn’t want to marry a woman he kissed in the garden. He only wanted one who was suitable.
A little remorse niggled in her belly. If she’d known the kiss was going to be like that, she might have said yes to the marriage and then stolen the kiss.
Still, it was her first real taste of romance and she’d not tarnish it with second thoughts.
Regret was for the morning.
Chapter Five
Malice pulled Cordelia closer in the crowd, wishing he could take her back out to the garden. Daring, however, would have none of that. If Malice didn’t get Cordelia back promptly at the end of the set, Daring would be swinging at his face again, and this time, the duke wouldn’t miss. Not only that, but Malice would find himself marching down the marriage aisle.
He looked over at Cordelia, trying to discern how he felt about that. He’d taken her out to the garden to tell her more of his story, an oddity in and of itself, and he’d ended up using their time to kiss her senseless.
Pleasure sizzled along his skin. What a kiss. He struggled to remember a time when he’d ever had a touch that had been so intimate. And somehow, that connection had only fueled his passion. She’d been so open and honest with her reaction, so in tune to him.
Her passion was intoxicating and, frankly, dangerous.
He drew in a deep breath. He didn’t want a deep connection. His life hinged upon his ability to keep people at arm’s length. Growing too close had only caused him pain.
Cordelia hadn’t been an arm’s length away just now, in fact, there had barely been a breath between them.
He studied her profile again. She looked the same, little pixie nose, full lush lips, sweet blue eyes and that blonde hair he now wished to see shimmering in the moonlight while it tumbled over her shoulders.
But somehow, she’d been cast in a different light that sparkled with a radiance he’d never seen.
Up ahead, he caught sight of Daring in the crowd. Easy enough since the man was a full head taller than most in attendance. Their eyes met and Daring’s narrowed.
Malice wasn’t irritated, quite the opposite. He was glad that Daring was looking after Cordelia. His friend had every reason to protect Corde from a man like him.
They approached the group, but it wasn’t Daring who intercepted them first.
Diana came up to them huffing a lon
g breath. “She isn’t here.”
For a moment he blinked. “Who?”
Cordelia tugged on his arm. “The countess. Remember? The reason we’re here.”
Oh…her. He’d forgotten all about the woman. Who cared anyhow when a little fairy had been kissing him, sprinkling him with magic dust that was addling his brain and…
“How are we going to confront a problem if the problem isn’t in attendance?” Diana placed her hands on her hips.
Malice cleared his throat. “Perhaps, in this case, it’s best to just let things be. You know, see if our actions have already solved the issue.”
Diana waved. “Mark my words. She’s a strong woman who has just been threatened by a group of men. She’s plotting revenge.”
He quirked a brow. Diana and Cordelia couldn’t be more opposite. Diana boldly declared her feelings, a challenge in her eye. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
“I do not.” Diana stepped closer to him, standing face-to-face. “If I were bent on revenge, I wouldn’t sit idly by.”
“You’re comparing yourself to her?” Cordelia asked, her fingers flexing on his arm. He wanted to lean down and brush a kiss along her brow in comfort. “That’s silly.”
“It isn’t.” Diana shook her head. “From what I can tell, the countess and I are a great deal alike. We’re strong, outspoken women. The difference is what life has delivered us. In different circumstances, I could be as damaged as her.”
Malice tightened. Or as damaged as him. Diana was far more right than he cared to admit. “For certain people there is no hope, is there?”
Cordelia slid her hand higher on his arm. “That isn’t true. I have no idea what happened in her past but I can tell you this. She had the opportunity to marry a fine man in the Duke of Darlington and she squandered that chance. I know she’s bitter at how her life turned out but that mistake was hers, whether she wants to admit to the facts or not. It isn’t just her past that gets in her way, but her choices too.”
Marquess of Malice: Lords of Scandal Book 2 Page 3