A Touch of Scarlet

by Renee Ryan

  “Now.”

  Elizabeth blinked up at him, then at Bertie, her gaze bouncing between them with fast, nervous flicks. “But I am in the middle of a conversation. I cannot simply—”

  “Dance with me,” he repeated, the command only a fraction less abrupt than the first time he’d uttered it.

  “Luke.” She laughed, the sound short and husky. “What’s gotten into you? I’ve never known you to be so rude.”

  “I apologize. My enthusiasm got the best of me.”

  Bertie snorted.

  Luke ignored him. He rifled through the items he’d read on Elizabeth’s list, then said, “I wish to speak with you about a fountain I came across the other day.”

  “You wish to speak with me about a fountain?” She looked confused. Then, slowly, understanding dawned in her remarkable eyes. “Oh, a fountain.”

  He reached out, a silent invitation.

  Bertie was not to be so easily thwarted. “Miss St. James, if you don’t wish to dance with Luke, I will happily take a turn around the floor with you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald, but I have already promised Luke this dance.” She turned slightly, missing the hard look that came into Bertie’s gaze.

  Urgency riding him hard, Luke took Elizabeth’s hand.

  The inevitable kick in his gut came right on schedule, as it always did whenever he touched her. It wasn’t an altogether awful feeling, reminding him of the sensation he felt in the middle of a thunderstorm. Or a light rain shower in a deserted country field.

  Elizabeth felt it, too. Luke knew this by the way her breathing quickened. She had no idea the sort of man Bertie was behind the polished veneer, no idea how close she’d come to ruination.

  At least she was safe now, or as safe as she could be in the company of a man with a questionable past like Luke’s.

  Determined to enjoy their dance and put all other thoughts aside, he guided her to the center of the parquet floor. With the first strains of a Viennese waltz drifting over them, he pulled her into his arms and gazed into eyes of a mesmerizing, dreamy blue. Home.

  At last, Luke was home.

  Matching her steps with his, Elizabeth happily settled into Luke’s arms, loving the feel of his strong embrace. At last, she was right where she wanted to be, with the man she loved. She breathed in his warm scent, and her entire being calmed.

  Ever since their walk in the rain, and the kiss that had changed her life forever, Luke had not been far from Elizabeth’s mind. In truth, she’d been thinking of him earlier, back when Mr. Fitzgerald had first approached her. She’d wondered where Luke was and, not seeing him anywhere, had settled for the other man’s company.

  Then, Luke had appeared in the ballroom. Their gazes had connected across the room. His eyes had held such a look of determination that she’d felt an answering twist of emotion in her heart.

  He’d behaved more protective than usual, as if he didn’t trust Mr. Fitzgerald. Or perhaps it was Elizabeth he didn’t trust. Surely, Luke didn’t think she would approach the other man with her list. There was something off about him. Luke had nothing to worry about, not when it came to Mr. Fitzgerald, or any other man for that matter.

  Pulling her a fraction closer, Luke guided her through a series of spins that left her pleasantly dizzy.

  Elizabeth laughed. She was suddenly having a lovely time, and Luke was the source of her joy. She’d been waiting for his arrival for a full hour and couldn’t help wondering why he’d arrived late.

  She’d known the moment he’d seen her. His gaze had locked onto her over the sea of twirling bodies and party guests. She’d watched, with her heart in her throat, as he approached through the maddening crush. He’d been coming for her. And now he wanted to discuss another adventure on her list.

  Only this moment mattered. Only this man.

  Their eyes met. This time, a charge as strong as lightning flashed between them.

  She laughed again. “You were quite forceful back there.”

  He said nothing.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you didn’t want me talking with Mr. Fitzgerald.”

  Still, nothing.

  His silence told her she was right. The knowledge made her bolder. While he spun her through another series of turns, she said, “You don’t like him.”

  He tugged her closer and took them through a series of complicated steps that spoke of his expertise on the dance floor. The man was full of hidden talents.

  “Bertie is not a good man,” he said through a tight jaw.

  Elizabeth had sensed as much, though all accounts said otherwise. The man was considered quite a catch.

  “Steer clear of him, Little Bit. He’s dangerous.”

  Something in his gaze said he had information about Albert Fitzgerald that would shock her. “If you say to avoid him, then you must have a very good reason why.”

  “What?” His eyebrows lifted. “No argument?”

  She shook her head.

  Luke backpedaled, leading them into another turn. And then another. The intricate series of steps made her feel exhilarated and full of . . . something. Anticipation, perhaps?

  Smiling into Luke’s handsome face, which was still scrunched in a frown, she followed him smoothly through the steps of the waltz. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. Elizabeth studied him a moment in silence. His hair was slightly disheveled, as if he’d dragged both hands through the strands more than a few times.

  He was worried. About her. He cared. About her. Her heart lifted and sighed.

  Reaching up, she gently touched his cheek, then dropped her hand when she realized where they were. “Thank you, Luke.”

  “For . . . ?”

  “For worrying about me.”

  He drew in a few unsteady breaths, his remarkable control returning with each exhale. “I don’t want to see you hurt, Little Bit.”

  There was something in his voice, affection and maybe even fear, a tone that told her there was more between Luke and Albert Fitzgerald than he was letting on. Though curious, she didn’t want to spend these precious moments talking about a man she hardly knew.

  Luke was here. They were dancing. The evening was perfect. The other day she’d decided to attack her list on her own. But if Luke was still offering to help her, perhaps this was the perfect way to win his heart, one lovely adventure at a time.

  “I also want to thank you, ahead of time, for helping me with the rest of my list and—”

  “I’m not helping you with the list you showed me.” He leaned in a fraction closer. “You cannot go on in the manner you’ve begun. There are too many problems that could arise, too much risk, too many wrong turns.”

  “That’s the point. I want to take a few wrong turns.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what lay around the corner.”

  And they were back where they’d begun.

  Her throat squeezed shut. She pushed her next words out on a frustrated sigh. “Luke, please—”

  “No.”

  How was she supposed to get through to him when he kept interrupting her? “Perhaps I’ll dance with Mr. Fitzgerald after all.”

  Horror filled his expression. That was oddly, incredibly heartwarming.

  “You will not approach Bertie.” His hand flexed at her waist. “Promise me, Elizabeth.”

  “I . . . Why don’t you trust Mr. Fitzgerald? What do you know that I don’t?”

  Luke stopped abruptly. “Let’s go.” He took her hand and guided her across the dance floor at a clipped pace. Elizabeth had no recourse but to follow.

  There was time only for brief glimpses and nods as they moved from the dance floor, past the banquet tables, past friends and family, to a door leading out to the balcony. Peering around Luke’s broad shoulders, Elizabeth took note of the clear sky beyond the wall of windows. The moon and stars sparkled in the black fabric of the sky, casting the area in silvery light. It was a romantic setting for another kiss, perhaps in a shadowed corner.
/>   Her heart tripped over itself.

  Every step she took grew lighter, and lighter still, until she was practically gliding above the floor. The smells of baked sea bass and lobster dripping in butter wafted on the air, along with a mixture of other savory scents, sweet honey, and freshly baked bread.

  She hadn’t eaten tonight, a situation that wouldn’t be remedied anytime soon. She cared not one whit.

  Luke continued to guide her through the labyrinth of party guests. Elizabeth could alleviate his concerns about Mr. Fitzgerald if the man would slow down long enough for her to do so. She loved Luke, but it was more than that. She trusted him. She’d always trusted him, and always would. If he said to stay away from his former friend, she would.

  Elizabeth absently noted the smiling faces passing by in a blur. Luke was certainly in a hurry. Matriarchs shared conversation with younger women. The whispers were nothing new, especially the ones about her. “She’s the perfect completion of her mother’s hard work.”

  Another mentioned how very sad it was that Katherine had grown ill and couldn’t be here to watch her lovely daughter bloom into a young woman sought after by every eligible bachelor at the party.

  “It really is a pity,” another commented. “Katherine is always a wonderful addition to any gathering.”

  True, Katherine St. James was very popular among her friends. How little they knew her.

  “Such a good girl.”

  How little they knew Elizabeth. Plotting how best to get Luke in a dark corner wasn’t the portrait of propriety they attached to her.

  More smiles and nods were thrown their way. Did no one notice Luke was all but dragging her along behind him?

  People see what they want to see. Caroline had said this to Elizabeth once. At the time, she hadn’t understood what her cousin meant. Now, she did. In Caroline’s case, people saw a street urchin unworthy of them. In Elizabeth’s case, they saw the perfect debutante who never disobeyed or questioned her place in society.

  Oh, how she wanted—needed—to prove she was more, so much more. Would completing the list be enough?

  As Luke guided her through the open balcony doors, there was an electric feel in the air as his long strides slowed to match her pace. Elizabeth glanced at his profile. So handsome, so frustrating, so convinced she was some wayward child in need of a good scolding.

  Enough.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Elizabeth stopped abruptly and pulled her hand free. “Luke, wait, slow down.”

  He swung around to face her. Slam. The intensity of his frustration—frustration with her—shoved her back a step. Elizabeth straightened, dragged in a lungful of air, and told herself she was imagining the blow.

  But, of course, she wasn’t. She couldn’t remember having been so aware of a man and what his presence did to her heart rate.

  The paper-thin moon cast the balcony in silvery light. Music drifted over them, a Viennese waltz by Johann Strauss II. The moment would have been perfect, the setting spectacular, but for two distinct points, both problematic in their own right: Luke was looking overly serious. And they weren’t alone. People milled about them. Several smiled or nodded their way.

  Seeking a bit of privacy, Elizabeth moved into the shadows. Luke nudged her back into the light. The man was proving entirely too proper.

  Angling her head, she stared straight into his blazing eyes.

  “Luke.” She slipped once again into the shadows, stopping on the edge of an alcove and waiting until he reluctantly joined her. “You do realize that I am not a child, nor am I without sense. I can make my own—”

  “Not another word, Elizabeth.” His tone was immovable steel. But at least he didn’t move away from her, or try to get her to return to the center of the balcony. “You will not continue down the course you’ve set for yourself.”

  And now she knew why he stood in the alcove with her. He wanted privacy so he could lecture her. Beastly, frustrating man.

  “You are completely misreading the situation.”

  “I won’t see you ruined.”

  Elizabeth felt her eyes widen. She’d never seen Luke this grave. “You weren’t this concerned when we were strolling hand in hand in the rain. What’s changed?”

  He clenched his jaw so hard a muscle jumped. “Albert Fitzgerald is not the man he portrays to the world. There are ugly layers beneath that suave veneer, dark layers.”

  This pronouncement didn’t surprise her. Most people weren’t who they pretended to be—not her mother. Not her father. Not even Luke. He was supposed to be a man with a questionable reputation, a little wild, a little audacious. Yet he continually behaved above reproach and continually put others ahead of himself.

  “You will not approach Bertie with your proposition. I won’t allow it.”

  He wouldn’t allow it?

  Now he’d crossed a line. “It’s really not up to you, and it’s certainly none of your business.”

  “You made it my business when you came to me with your ridiculous list. At an inappropriate hour. In the privacy of my own home.”

  “What a stunning prude you’ve become.”

  The insult missed its mark.

  “The worst of it, the very worst of it”—his voice lowered to an ominous level—“is that you don’t even know how close to disaster you’ve come, Little Bit.”

  She flinched at the nickname, but he gave her no time to respond.

  “You are a kitten attempting to run with jungle cats. You must steer clear of Bertie—of all men, for that matter.”

  “Including you?”

  “Especially me.”

  He looked tired, heavily burdened. “Oh, Luke, you really are a good man. I’m starting to like you very much, even when you’re being bone stubborn.”

  He looked around, scowled, then pulled Elizabeth fully into the alcove, away from prying eyes. With shadows covering his face, he spoke in a low, nearly imperceptible voice. “You cannot go around asking men to help you break the rules of society, no matter how silly or unfair those rules may seem.”

  “I have only approached you.”

  He raised a single dark eyebrow, nearly impossible to detect in the shadows, but Elizabeth was close enough. “Do you mean to say that you didn’t have plans to ask Bertie to assist you—”

  “No.” She paused when conversation around them halted, lowered her voice to a whisper. “I did not. There’s something about him that makes me think of slimy, slithering creatures.”

  An involuntary shudder passed through her.

  “You’re right to be afraid of him.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “Luke, I understand the dangers of my quest, truly, I do. But I can’t continue as I have been.” She absently touched the locket around her neck, found the courage to add, “You know why.”

  His gaze ran over her face, dropped down to her necklace, turned thoughtful. “That’s a stunning piece of jewelry. Is it new?”

  A sigh leaked out of her. This was her chance, perhaps even her last, to win Luke to her side. The locket was a good reminder of why Elizabeth must make this move, with or without his help.

  Again, she lifted her hand to the necklace, released the latch, and showed Luke the piece of red fringe. Then, lifting her hand to her hair, she indicated the ribbons she’d made from the scarlet garment.

  When she explained where the scraps had come from and why she wore them, Luke’s expression softened. “I’ve been where you are, Little Bit. I understand the need to break free.”

  The change in him, the sudden sadness, had her touching his sleeve. “Will you tell me what led to your rebellion?”

  “Perhaps I should.” He guided her out of the dark alcove and into the light.

  Still gripping her hand, he pulled her toward a bench, indicated she take a seat. He joined her a moment later.

  It was all perfectly proper. Elizabeth sighed. There would be no kiss under the moon and stars tonight.

  “You’ve indicated that I ca
n’t possibly understand what you’re suffering, but you’re wrong, Elizabeth.” His eyes were brilliant with emotion. “I discovered something about my father that revealed a different side to his nature. It doesn’t matter how, or even what, only that I will never look at him the same.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He kept talking, barely acknowledging her words. “I went a little wild, began hanging out with a rowdy crowd.”

  “That’s how you know Mr. Fitzgerald.”

  “Yes.” He turned his head, commanded her gaze. “I did things I can never undo.” He shifted in his seat, cast around a moment, presumably to make sure they weren’t drawing unwanted attention. “I’m trying to preserve your honor. The very thing I have lost.”

  “Luke, you are the most honorable man I know.” The very reason she’d approached him in the first place.

  “You’re wrong, Little Bit.”

  “If you have such concern for my reputation, may I suggest you follow through with your agreement to assist me? What better way to keep me safe than to stick by my side?”

  “Your trust in me is misguided.”

  “I disagree.” She gave him her most confident smile and stood. Looking down at him, she felt emboldened enough to reach out a hand to him.

  Frowning, he stood a second later. But didn’t take her hand. The man was as obstinate as any she knew. She rather liked that about him.

  “I’m about to do something very inappropriate,” she warned, stepping closer. “Lucian Griffin, may I have the next waltz?”

  The echo of a smile curved his lips. “I’d be delighted to dance with you.”

  She shook off a delicious shiver, and, this time, when she reached out to him, he took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. They entered the ballroom and were immediately accosted.

  “Elizabeth St. James,” said the scolding, matronly voice. “You have been a very naughty young lady.”

  She and Luke had been found out; that was her first thought. But that couldn’t be right. They hadn’t done anything wrong. This time.

  “I’ll need you to be more specific, Aunt Tilly. What, exactly, have I done to upset you so?”

  “You know perfectly well what you did.” The older woman wagged a finger at her. “You begged off from our shopping trip and have yet to reschedule.”