His grip tightens, and his mouth forms a close-lipped smile.
The whispers of worry increase in decibel until they’re all but shouting in my mind. I try to gather energy to me but every time the moon grants me its power, my emotions swirl it away like a tornado. Concentration is needed to channel arcana, and a calm state of mind is something I do not have at the moment.
He pulls me against his chest and shoves me roughly against the wooden fence. My heart is beating so hard I’m afraid it’ll burst free from my chest. If we’re caught, I’ll be ruined. My father will be forced to make this horrid man marry me—which Lord Blackburn might actually do for my dowry alone—and I’ll be trapped with this monster until the day I die.
He leans in close. His breath is on my cheek. “I know what you are. I’d suspected before, but after that day in my library, I knew.”
A shiver of fear racks my body. He breathes in deeply as if savoring a delicious aroma before taking hold of both my shoulders. I feel the slight tug in the core of me—the one I only feel when I use arcana.
True terror licks at my insides like flames. My mother was right to fear I would be caught at a time when the sun’s energy could not help me. My thoughts are as rapid as my breathing, and I lose all hope of calming myself when he presses his lips to mine. I struggle, clamping my mouth shut and twisting this way and that, but his grip is tight, bruising. The tug on my abdomen is stronger as more of my power is taken from me. Sour nausea churns inside of me. He is forcing the energy away from my body; violating me. My limbs become heavier as more power leaves me. I try to hold on to it, grasping fleetingly with my mind as a child may try to catch the string of a kite before it flies away.
I try to bring my knee up to kick him, hurt him, but he has me flush against the fence. The wood digs into my back and my bare arms.
I manage to free one arm and bring the letter opener toward him. Everything is in slow motion. I feel as though I’m moving underwater. He grabs my hand with a sneer, squeezing my wrist until I cry out. He slams my hand against the fence until my grip loosens and the letter opener falls to the ground.
A shout rings out, and I struggle harder. With a mighty wrench, I manage to free my arm and shove Lord Blackburn with all my strength. He goes flying backward, and I stumble to the side.
Did I shove him that hard?
And then I see him.
Lord Thornewood.
Lord Blackburn whirls on him like an angry dog, even takes a swing at him, but Lord Thornewood dodges it. He watches Lord Blackburn with a look of contempt.
“How dare you interrupt us!” Lord Blackburn shouts. His pale eyes convey such malice, I flinch. Curiously, his previous fragility seems to have disappeared. No longer does his skin remind me of porcelain. The lean wolf appearance of his face and body has been replaced by a complexion almost glowing with vitality.
Lord Thornewood appears calm, but his jaw is tight and his right hand is curled in a fist at his side. “The lady didn’t seem to be enjoying your company.”
Lord Blackburn must realize his attempts at intimidation have no effect because he wears a conspiratory grin. “Come now, Lord Thornewood. We’ve all heard the rumors about you. You know how these elegant ladies can be. They like to play at being hard to get.”
Lord Thornewood narrows his eyes. His face is murderous, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. He takes a menacing step forward. The tension between them is so taut, I’m afraid they will start a row amongst the rose bushes. But Lord Thornewood must shove his fury down where he stores all his emotions because all he says is, “Enough of this. We’re leaving. Come, Miss Sinclair.” I move to his side on shaky, newborn foal legs, and his arm wraps protectively around me. To Lord Blackburn, he says, “You are to never speak to Miss Sinclair again. Is that clear?”
Lord Blackburn tilts his head and raises his chin slightly. “Or what, precisely?”
“Or I ruin you.” The threat is delivered so smoothly, without any further explanation, and I watch Lord Blackburn’s Adam’s apple bob as he takes in Lord Thornewood’s meaning. With his influence, a mere word from him will end Lord Blackburn’s reputation forever. He will be barred from every club in London, uninvited to every elegant ball, blacklisted by every member of Society.
We start back to the house, but Lord Blackburn calls out to Lord Thornewood. “And what if the lady welcomes my touch?”
Without even turning, Lord Thornewood says, “If you touch her again, I will kill you.”
FOURTEEN
AFTER we enter the ballroom, Lord Thornewood guides me to a quiet corner of the room. His movements are stiff and his jaw is tight as he blocks most of my body from view of the others.
“Did he harm you?” he asks, his voice pitched low enough I hope no one around can hear.
I think about being thrown roughly against the fence, and I tense. Emotions crash inside me. I feel as violated as I would have if Lord Blackburn stripped me naked. He touched a part of me so intimate, so much a part of who I am. Anger flares as brightly as the sun within me. I want to hurt him. I want to search among all the artifacts of this room and find something sharp to inflict the same amount of pain and fear he caused in me.
Suppressing this loathsome feeling, I inwardly inspect the damage. I feel perhaps a little fatigued, much like I do when I use a bit of arcana—like making the rope fly up during the horse race. The difference is that he took it from me; I didn’t expend it. And it isn’t hard to imagine what might happen if he was able to continue—if he took it all.
Anger and disbelief crash over me again and again. My back aches, but it’s nothing I cannot heal later. I wish I could tell Lord Thornewood everything, but I don’t dare. “I’m fine, my lord, thank you.”
He shakes his head once, brusquely. “We may forgo such formalities. Please, call me Colin. Now, did he touch you?”
I know he means more than the forced kiss. I drop my eyes and shake my head once. Lord Thornewood—for there is no way I can think of him by his given name—lets out a breath as his wide shoulders relax.
I want to reach out and take his hand, but I cannot—already our private conversation in the corner has drawn attention. “Thank you for . . . just, thank you.”
“Think nothing of it. May I get you something to drink? A glass of wine, perhaps?”
I smile gratefully. “Yes, thank you.”
I watch him weave deftly through the crowd, brushing off all attempts to waylay him. He returns with a small glass, and I take it from him with a shaky hand.
After a sip of the thin wine, I ask, “I do wonder, though, how did you know to come to my assistance?”
He glances away, an almost sheepish look crossing his face. “I watched you leave after the last dance, and I saw he followed not long after.”
I manage a wry smile to cover my surprise. “I hadn’t realized you monitored my movements so closely.”
His self-conscious look disappears into one of naked admiration. “I do, and I have since the moment we met.”
For once, I have nothing to say in return, only a wide smile upon my face. But lest I actually get a chance to bask in this glowing feeling, Eliza and Amelia approach us.
“Lord Thornewood,” Eliza says with a slow smile I’m sure she means to be coy, “you cannot think to spend the remainder of the ball in this corner.”
He drags his eyes from my face to hers. “No, of course not.”
I stiffen and shrink back into myself. How could I have forgotten? I think of them flirting with each other on the dance floor and take a gulp of wine.
“I’m very glad to hear it because I have a cousin who is eager to speak with you. The two of you knew each other at Oxford.” She points out a man in a beautifully tailored coat talking animatedly to our hostess.
“Edward,” Lord Thornewood says with a nod. “I hadn’t realized he was in town.”
Eliza takes a step toward her cousin. “Come, I’ll help you get reacquainted.”
“Will you excuse m
e, Kath—Miss Sinclair?” Lord Thornewood asks, and I watch Eliza’s eyes narrow at his slip.
Backed into a corner, I cannot say no without appearing both desperate and rude. “By all means.”
The waltz that has been danced the entire time I’ve been speaking with Lord Thornewood ends, and Penelope joins me. I’m relieved to see her. There is nothing quite like distraction to cope with something traumatic.
“I saw Eliza steal Lord Thornewood from you a moment ago,” she says, a look of disdain on her face as she glances in their direction.
“She resented not being able to eavesdrop.” I frown. “I am surprised he went so willingly.”
Penelope puts a gloved hand on my arm. “Too much attention from a suitor is scandalous to Society, dear, you know that. I’m sure he was trying to spare you from their censure.”
I let out a breath of disgust. “Such stupid rules! How can anyone ever follow them?”
“You and Lord Thornewood must get along famously. You both care so little for Society.”
“Yes, it’s what tends to happen when you haven’t been forced into the thick of it as you have.” I glance at her mother who is even now hanging on every word of a potential suitor for Penelope.
Penelope lets out a little groan. “Not Sir Bondsworth, Mother. He’s old enough to be my father.”
“Oh, Penelope,” I say in a fair imitation of her mother’s brush tone, “he is very rich, and that’s all that matters.”
She laughs—probably to keep from crying. “So what were you and Lord Thornewood talking about so intently? I thought you found him disagreeable.”
I take a sip of my wine to stall for time. Should I tell Penelope what happened? She has become a very dear friend these past few weeks. If we are overheard, though, the results could be disastrous. And though she and Lord Blackburn are distant cousins, I am still reluctant to reveal everything I know about him. I decide I will tell her a portion of the truth, but not here. Not where we could possibly be overheard.
I smile, and it turns even brighter when Lord Thornewood catches my eye from across the room. “I find he is growing on me.”
I seek out my grandmother and beg her to leave early, but my pleas go ignored. Worse, she keeps asking me where Lord Blackburn has gone and what I have done to upset him. So by the time Lord Thornewood returns, I am in a foul mood and a tad tipsy.
“Oh-ho, so now you’ve deemed it a good time to seek me out,” I say.
Annoyingly, he seems unperturbed by my acidic tone. “I came for that dance I requested of you earlier.”
I harrumph and glance around, my vision just a little swimmy.
He pulls the wineglass from my hand. “You’ve had enough of this, I think.” He leans toward my ear and murmurs, “But I don’t blame you.”
He holds out his arm to me, and tears pool in my eyes. Horrified, I blink rapidly until they evaporate unshed. Before he can lead me to the dance floor, I put pressure on his arm. “Wait. Can we—can we just stay here?”
He must sense how shaky I am because he guides me to one of the strategically placed chairs—the ones for elderly ladies to sit and rest. I don’t even care. I sit with a luxurious sigh.
“Should I find your grandmother and tell her you’re ready to leave?”
I let out an unladylike snort. “Be my guest. Maybe she’ll actually listen to you.”
He arches an eyebrow. “I can do better than that. I’ll take you home myself.”
I glance over at my grandmother, who is deep in conversation with Lady Hasting, as usual. She will be furious when she finds out. The wine has guaranteed I don’t care.
I stand. “Yes, I think that would be wonderful.”
It isn’t until we’re standing at the top of the stairs while the driver pulls ’round Lord Thornewood’s carriage that it hits me: Lord Thornewood and I will be entirely alone. In the dark. In a very small space. In spite of the trauma I have just survived with Lord Blackburn, I do not fear the same from Lord Thornewood. I know he would never harm me.
No, it is not fear of him that makes me hesitate. It’s fear of what I might do.
The footman tries to hold the door open for us, but Lord Thornewood waves him away and helps me into the carriage himself. I settle into the seat, and the carriage dips a bit as he takes the seat on the other side. He raps on the ceiling and we roll forward.
I arrange and rearrange my skirts. Our legs are inches away from each other, and I can feel the wine-induced flush spreading.
Lord Thornewood clears his throat. “Do I remember correctly that you have a sister?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Will she be at home?”
I glance up sharply. “Yes.”
“I only ask because I don’t feel comfortable leaving you there alone—even with a house full of servants.”
“Surely you don’t think I’m in any danger?” The thought had not occurred to me, and a cold, sharp fear grips me. I will be sure to bar my door tonight.
He lets out his breath in a rush, the polite indifference he wears so well slipping enough for me to see the torment underneath. “I don’t know what to think,” he says in a voice that is more like a growl. “When I found him—his hands all over you—it was all I could do not to demand satisfaction.”
“I can’t think of anything more horrible than someone dueling over me.” I lean forward and touch his arm, my eyes intent on his. “Swear you would never do that.” He lets out some sort of grunt in affirmation, and I sigh. “I have to admit I’m a little surprised,” I say. “It’s not like you’ve gone out of your way to be around me this week.”
His eyes search my face like he can’t tell if I’m serious. When he determines I am, he frowns. “I can’t imagine what I’ve done to make you think that.”
The wine loosens my tongue even more than usual. “Well, you’d leave only moments after arriving at every ball and event I attended.”
“I see. Is that all?”
“No. You favor Eliza over me.” The words are out before I can stop myself. I wrap a cloak of righteousness about me so I can’t feel the embarrassment.
His sharp bark of laughter makes me jump. “Eliza! How could you think that?”
“At Duchess Cecily’s, you were hanging on her every word as you danced. And just this evening, you jumped at the chance to leave with her.”
His laughter dies away, but his eyes still hold some of the mirth. “Are you so naïve you don’t realize how much Eliza dislikes you?” I avert my eyes briefly. It’s rather obvious—probably to most everyone—how she feels about me. “You do? Well, then, you might see the things I did in a different light. That night at the Duchess’s, if you’ll recall, your own brother had just given her some serious fuel for gossip. And tonight, she’d seen you with Lord Blackburn—not outside, no one saw that, I made sure of it—no, she saw how much attention he gave you. As embarrassingly conceited as it sounds, favoring her with my attention provides the perfect distraction and keeps her from doing too much damage.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded.
“The reason I left early during all those events is much harder to admit, but it has to do with our lascivious mutual acquaintance.”
I think about his snide comment about Lord Blackburn being my shadow. I clear my throat and say quietly, “Because I was with Lord Blackburn?”
His jaw tightens. “It makes me sick I let my pride and jealousy get in the way. Thank God I stayed tonight.”
I don’t even want to think about that scenario. “It seems I completely misunderstood your intentions, my lord. Then again, that isn’t unusual for me apparently.”
“I won’t have you blame yourself,” Lord Thornewood says sharply.
I shrug and look out the window. I don’t blame myself—though I was warned by Lord Thornewood about Lord Blackburn’s character. Blame isn’t the right word—it’s more disgust than anything.
The carriage comes to a stop, and we stare at each other. His eyes are on
me, an intense expression on his face. I pause, mesmerized by it. He leans forward and cups my cheek, and I freeze, afraid to break the spell.
The kiss is achingly gentle—so different from the horrible forced one with Lord Blackburn. But everything changes when I respond. He groans and tugs me onto his lap. I rearrange my skirts until I am draped across him and then we are pressed so tightly together we become one heartbeat, one breath.
His hands leave trails of fire wherever they touch. When his lips leave mine to kiss my jaw, my throat, and lower—the tops of my breasts—my breathing changes to quick pants. His eyes seem to devour me with one sweep, and I writhe on his lap . . . needing something I cannot yet name.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he says, his lips at my throat.
I grasp the collar of his shirt and give a little tug until our mouths connect once again. Our tongues tangle, and I press closer to him, eliciting a groan. He pulls back, pressing gentle kisses on my temple and cheekbone. The reduction in pleasurable intensity only makes me squirm more. A teasing smile crosses his face for a moment before he continues his onslaught on my mouth. His tongue gently rakes over my bottom lip, and I let out a shuddering sigh.
Warm, strong hands caress the curves of my spine. Fingers plunge into my hair, freeing it from its chignon.
We kiss until I can barely think of my own name. Until Lord Blackburn’s face is obliterated from my mind.
“Please tell me to stop,” he says between kisses. His hands grip my waist tightly before sweeping gently over my ribs and up to my breasts.
I gasp—both from surprise and pleasure.
He slides his hands back to my waist and leans forward to press a gentle kiss on the side of my neck. “Forgive me, my darling. I had all the intentions of playing the gentleman this evening.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” I say. “You are mistaken if you think I was innocent in this.” I touch my still-tingling lips. “I wanted this just as much as you.”
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