She continued to scrutinize the room discreetly.
Her gaze drifted past a gentleman as he approached and in the next instant, her eyes snapped back and locked with a pair of intense olive green eyes. With a gasp, she tore her eyes away and closed them in disbelief before cautiously opening them once more. It couldn’t be. But indeed it was! Surprised, Eve drank him in as he moved with a prowling grace toward her, noting the rough maturity of his features, the deepened lines on his face, a threading of gray here and there, the new thickness of his chest and limbs. The man was so lovely, yet completely virile and manly. Devastatingly compelling. Time had only served to transform the beautiful young lad she had met into a dazzling man who could steal more than her breath away.
Francis! What was he doing here?
She met his gaze again as he came up, saw her awareness reflected in his.
Lady Boughton stretched out her hand in welcome as he approached, and graced him with a wide, pleased smile. “Lord Glenrothes, what a pleasure and a surprise to see you here,” she greeted, her voice warm. “Abby was unsure if you would attend.”
“I arrived just this afternoon, Lady Boughton.” His rich, deep brogue returned her greeting as his gaze returned to the vision next to the dowager. “I had not planned on staying over but a night, but perhaps there might be incentive to change my mind. May I have the pleasure?”
The lady who held his attention was still silent and staring, her eyes wide with surprise. If he had been more himself, well, he might have been amused by her lack of response. Silence and awe were not qualities he recalled in her. Shock and amazement were running rampant through him as well as… excitement? Anticipation? Nerves? He wasn’t sure but it was something he had not felt in many a year. He felt like a schoolboy let go on his first flirtation. Giddy, indeed. Frankly, considering the state of his nerves, he was surprised he was functioning so well as to offer a polite bow.
“Evelyn?” Lady Boughton said, touching her arm to gain her attention.
Eve mentally shook herself from her stupor and smiled her apology. “Yes, my lady?”
“The gentlemen are trying to make their greetings.”
Eve looked down at the dark head bowed over her hand for the first time, nearly forgetting that another gentleman had been present. Recalling herself with a shake of her head, she addressed him, “Hullo, Richard. Is Abby holding up all right?”
“Aye, but I believe she’s about done in.” Richard indicated the man at his side. “Before I take her off, may I have the pleasure of introducing Francis MacKintosh, Earl Glenrothes, Lord of Glen Cairn, laird of the clan and so on and so forth. Francis, this is Lady Evelyn Ashley-Cooper, Countess of Shaftesbury and a few lesser titles as well I’m sure.”
Francis ignored his brother's badly delivered humor and took the hand the lady offered in his own gloved one, his eye's never leaving hers as he turned it over and kissed her palm. Eve’s pulse leapt and raced and she knew he realized it. Nothing had changed. “The pleasure is incomparable, my lady.”
“My lord,” she nodded as coolly as she could though she was stunned by the boldness of his kiss. His changeable eyes were so intense they seemed to sparkle with challenge. She found her voice again, thankful to hear it emerge cool and collected. She was unaware her eyes were telling another story, warm and caressing as she stared at Francis. Her normally pale cheeks flushed with becoming color. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Richard looked from his brother’s face to the countess’ and knew in that instant that there was going to be trouble. Never in his life had he seen Francis so utterly entranced. He was staring at Evelyn as if he wanted to eat her up. And cool, collected Evelyn was looking as if she would hand him the spoon herself!
“Countess? You married well, my lady.” Francis’ emphasis on those last two murmured words caused Eve to blush and, just realizing that he had been tightly holding her hand all the while, she tried to pull it away.
Francis held on.
“I was married, my lord.” The words were soft. “You find me currently, however, in a widowed state.”
“And a more pleasing state I could never find you in…” he paused and grinned devilishly with raised brows. “Ahh, perhaps I can imagine a more pleasing state after all.”
“Francis!” Richard admonished. wondering what had gotten into his brother. Francis had always been studiously polite in company. Never had he seen him flirt so boldly with a lady he had just met.
“My lord!” she chastised blushing hotly at his insinuation.
“Forgi’ me, my lady. I don't know what devil has prompted me to tease you so.” He grinned again, feeling carefree and devilish for the first time in years. He could not remember the last time he had felt so light of heart. His fair Eden! How was it possible that eight years had gone by and he still felt like a young lad with his first crush? A man of his years! He longed to tease a smile from her, to walk her through the gardens and…
Haddington approached and slapped Francis roughly on the shoulder with a laugh. “MacKintosh, it looks like you’ve got yourself a bonny handful there. Not planning on sharing?”
Francis turned and grabbed Jack’s offered hand with a hearty shake. “Merrill, ‘bout time you showed up, old man! Have you met Lady Shaftesbury?”
“I have had the honor.” He grabbed her hand before she had a chance to move it from his reach. “Lady Shaftesbury,” Merrill drawled, kissing her hand and winking boldly at her. “It is always my greatest pleasure.”
Evelyn snatched her hand back with an iciness that bordered on the rude. “Yes, I know, Lord Merrill.” Her voice was cold and she offered no further greeting. For two months he had tried to engage her in conversation and her replies always been clipped. Still, he always approached her as if she gave him the utmost pleasure. Abby had not been joking when she said he was desperate for money. Hopefully, her friend would soon dissuade her brother from his pursuit.
If Merrill was aware of her cold tone, he did not acknowledge it by word or action as he continued warmly. “I had no idea that you were acquainted with my dear friend, Glenrothes, here though.”
Her eyes darted back to Francis. “You are a friend of his?” She jerked her head toward Jack. Her tone suggested such a thing might lower him in her esteem.
“You wound me, Lady Shaftesbury,” Jack put in, his hand dramatically over his heart.
“But unfortunately it is not a fatal blow,” she responded frostily without looking at him.
“We are friends, but I can throw him over if it would impress you,” Francis confirmed, slapping Jack on the back once more.
“Et tu, MacKintosh?” Jack interjected with a more deeply wounded voice, dramatically pressing a hand to his heart. “After we grew up together and have been friends our entire lives?”
“Grew up…but…” Evelyn frowned slightly and raised a brow to Francis. “MacKintosh? Are you related to Richard?”
“You know my brother then?”
“Your brother!” Evelyn glanced over at Richard but found he had turned Jack away to greet Lady Boughton. “Imagine that,” she said instead to Francis. “Well, with as many siblings as you have, I suppose it would be possible to have met one before. I went to finishing school with Abby.”
“Abby has mentioned her friends from school before and always with affection. I had no idea you were one of her quartet. Are you staying in Edinburgh long, my lady?” His emphasis again on those last two words prompted a renewed warmth to her cheeks.
“I came up only to help Abby plan this ball for Sean and Col…I guess, more of your brothers, my lord,” she responded with a shaky laugh. “I do not plan on staying long.”
“Then I shall try to make the most of it,” he whispered in a low seductive tone, but as he noticed Merrill eyeing him inquisitively, cleared his throat loudly, “I believe I would enjoy a dance. Shall we, Lady Shaftesbury?” He took her hand and bowed gallantly, playfully.
Evelyn started at the change of subject. “Shall we
what?”
“Is it such a hard decision, then? I was asking, you know, rather than simply assuming. Ahh, well…” He shrugged and made as if he was turning to go. Apparently, he forgot as much as Eve that he still held her hand.
Eve tightened her grip impulsively and pulled him back. “You might attempt to phrase the question more politely, my lord.”
Lord MacKintosh bowed formally still holding her now unresisting hand in his. "May I have the pleasure of a dance, my lady?”
Do I dare? A dance with one of Richard’s nonthreatening younger brothers was one thing but to meet Francis on the dance floor was bound to be fraught with emotion that Eve was uncertain she was ready to face. Years ago, one brief moment with this incredible man had set her entire world abuzz. It had taken the whole of her willpower and strength to push him from her heart so that she might face marriage with William without the specter of the past in her mind and soul. Eve met Francis’ dark gaze and shivered at the force of the heat and promise she read there. Danger, it said. There was no safe, structured haven with him. Only uncertainty that she wasn’t sure she could handle.
Run away, far away, her mind yelled.
But then Eve noticed Haddington coming back in their direction and made the quick decision that a moment of uncertainty trumped a night of unpleasantness. She gave Francis a warm smile and waved her fan flirtatiously. “A waltz? With you?”
Glenrothes smiled fully, revealing deep masculine dimples as if he had actually heard the thoughts race through her mind and tugged her hand playfully. “Honor me, my lady?”
Eve simply could not refuse a smile like that, no matter what propriety said. No matter what peril lay ahead. After all, she had conceded that she would dance with one of Richard’s brothers. Though in her mind that brother was an unassuming youth, not a danger to her equilibrium. “Very well, I suppose that I might have just one dance,” she conceded and, snapping her fan closed, took his arm as he led her out onto the dance floor, leaving Haddington staring after them with a puzzled frown.
Once on the floor, she curtsied deeply as he bowed in return. Assuming a most respectable stance, he proceeded to whirl her about the room. A tall woman herself, it was unusual for Eve to have to tilt her head back to see her partner’s face. Normally she met most men eye to eye, but she liked that he could make her feel petite and fragile as he once did. The earl waltzed in gracefully long strides and sweeping turns that made her hold on tightly. His eyes sparkled as he pulled her closer. Eyes from all about watched as the tall, graceful couple moved together about the room and voices commented about what a dashing couple they made.
Chapter 13
Eve stared up into the olive green eyes that had haunted her for almost eight years and knew without a moment of deeper reflection that nothing had changed. Francis had enthralled and captivated her from the instant she had met him and, in just a few moments, he had done it again. She had been lost to him then.
She was lost again now.
Lost in the man from the moment they had touched. It was like magic to feel the heat of his hand entwined with hers. That same electricity that had enthralled her as a young woman was still there. All of it made her feel like his ‘Eden’ once more, just a girl amid her first crush. The years fell away and it was as though they were standing in his grandmother’s garden again. Helpless to resist the pull that had drawn them to one another years ago. Helpless to fight the web that sought to surround them.
The humor faded from his eyes and a deep awareness overtook them both. Eve gave up trying to look away from him and stared into his compelling eyes. Eyes she had never forgotten, that had haunted her fantasies for so long. They held her spellbound, promising her the world and more with each look. Such warmth was in his eyes! She had no idea that her own grass-green eyes were returning that heat with equal measure.
Nor were either of them aware that their bodies were moving closer and closer to each other with each turn in their unconscious need to be as one. They moved well past the bounds of propriety. Francis pulled her closer to him until there was a mere breath separating them. Then not even that. Her breast first brushed, then pressed, against his chest, her belly met the hard plains of his stomach.
The heat of his hand burned through her layers of clothes, warming her even more. His thigh slipped deeply between her legs as they turned and as they turned again, once more sending a sinful heat through Eve’s core. Her left hand dropped the long train of her gown and fell to his forearm. She stared up at him as their dance slowed and eventually stopped, leaving them motionless in the middle of the dance floor, pressed to one another in a near embrace.
Francis had forgotten where he was. He only knew whom he was with. Reality seemed far away. Their bodies touched and meshed from chest to thigh as his arm snaked around her waist. His head began to lower. Hers fell back to welcome him…
A murmur rose among the crowd.
“Francis!” The pair jumped apart to face Richard in surprise though perhaps the younger man’s was even greater. “I think it might be a good idea if I cut in?”
Shocked, Eve jumped back from Francis’ embrace her face flushed with color. She was not merely embarrassed; she was horrified as she looked with some astonishment at all the silent, scandalized faces about her. Years of rigid instruction on the proper behavior of ladies descended upon her. Years of having William correct her behaviors. Years of reprimand and castigation. And what had she done? What had she been thinking? “I’m very sorry!” she whispered and turned to flee.
Francis caught her before she could run away rashly, assuming a flight that might stir further gossip. “Come, lass, I think a stroll on the terrace might do us a bit of good. Richard, if you will excuse us?”
Reluctantly, Richard stepped aside and, nodding her consent, Eve took Francis’ offered arm as they left the ballroom through nearby doors. She kept her head held high and regal as if nothing untoward had happened, but on the inside she was aghast by her behavior. “I am so mortified. I cannot imagine what everyone is saying!”
“They were probably thinking, ‘Isn’t that the same American girl we could hear cursing her way up Half Moon Street so many years ago?’” The corner of his mouth jerked up in an oh-so familiar grin that brought a physical ache to her chest.
Trying to push aside her embarrassment as such a happy memory descended, Eve smiled shyly up at him. “There was a moment I had thought you might not have remembered me, my lord.”
“Not remembered you? How can you say that?” his surprise was evident as his brows rose.
“It was just a couple moments almost eight years ago after all. Less than an hour all told,” she reminded. In all the years since their meeting, when Eve had thought of Francis – those fantastical moments when they met and she had fallen so quickly, easily in love – it had never occurred to her, despite his assurance at the time, that his feelings had been as engaged as hers. It warmed her heart that he had not only remembered their meeting, but did so fondly.
“Yet those moments remain in my memory as some of the happiest I have known,” he admitted, softly squeezing her hand.
“They do?” Those words bespoke more than mere fondness, Eve thought as she glanced up at the face that had haunted, yet sustained her through all the years of her marriage. A ghostly reminder of what might have been. His dark eyes promised that the attraction was not just a memory either. The allure she felt for him was almost fairy tale-like in its blissful power, intensified by the knowledge that one was desired in return. In her heart, she was giddy as a princess when awoken by her prince after a long slumber. And yet, she could not give herself over entirely to the moment. Curious looks from others on the terrace prompted the ingrained propriety to reassert itself. Against the girlish yearnings of her heart, Eve stepped away, regaining a more respectable distance. The movement brought a puzzled frown to his face.
“What is the matter, Eden?”
“You should not address me so familiarly, my lord.”
/> “I have addressed you that way in my mind countless times.” He closed the distance between them once more and reached out for her hands. “You once called me Francis.”
“That was a long time ago. Things changed after that day. You should have told me you were married. I would never have acted so rashly.” The reproach was clear in her voice as she tried to withdraw her hands and his brow puckered in confusion at her change from all that was warmth to this chilly shell.
“Were you angry with me?” he asked.
“Surprisingly, no,” she answered after a moment’s reflection. “I never thought of that moment with anger, just upset. Why didn’t you say something that night in the garden?”
“I had forgotten.”
“You had forgotten you were married?” A brow rose coolly in disbelief.
“In a sense, I did.” He reached again for her hands but she folded them tightly before her. With a sigh, he rested his hands on the balustrade. “I had already been married for seven years when we met, Eden. I wed when I was just a lad of eighteen. My father was ill, dying, and wanted to make sure our, and I mean the earldom’s, future was secure before he passed. My relationship with my wife left much to be desired and by that time we lived largely apart. So, aye, occasionally I forgot I was married.” He reached up and caressed her cheek, pleased that she didn’t pull away, enjoying the blush that followed his touch. “And when you came along and took my breath away as you did, I could think of nothing else.”
“I took your breath away?” she sighed wistfully, leaning unconsciously into his hand overwhelmed by his presence and his confession. The light caress of his fingers sent shivers of longing down her spine.
A Question of Love Page 8