Linna : Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 5)

by Jackie Ivie

  Linna mentally put him on the list for the next phase of her plan. Enticement to a private salon, or to a secluded bench in the gardens...or if much more time passed, she was willing to attempt it in a darkened section of the ballroom between the oil globes that were aligned with perfect precision along the walls.

  Linna’s gaze stopped on a blonde fellow. Fairly tall. Wide-shouldered. Obviously American. Just as obviously interested. Linna tipped her chin down just a fraction and watched him slide a tongue across his bottom lip. He’d do, she told herself. She flipped the stray lock of hair over her shoulder tipped her body toward him just slightly and waited for the reaction. It was involuntary, but she saw it as his eyes widened for a fraction.

  Then she moved on. She mustn’t look too bold. Not yet.

  There was a definite split between the Creoles and the Americans in this fest. It would have been amusing, if she allowed herself such an emotion. A native-born New Orleans male wouldn’t consider her an eligible party – not for marriage. Especially if they knew of the scandal. If she did choose one of them for part two of this plan, it was going to take all of Ryan Daniels’ influence to make certain she got her wedding ceremony. Linna smiled slightly and dipped her head.

  Oh.

  She’d make certain she got it.

  She caught another Creole’s eyes on her. He took a step toward her, stopped and then reached to twirl his little mustache between his thumb and forefinger. She’d noted him before. He was a small man, he probably had a small man’s attitude, and quick with his slaps. Linna dipped her head with studied modesty before turning. She may be desperate, but she wasn’t that desperate. There was always Luthor Evans.

  And him - she could control.

  Linna swallowed. The night wasn’t over yet. She had time to find an unwitting accomplice, time to rip a bit of her gown, pretend to shock, make a very large, emotional scene that would be talked of for days, and therefore gain herself a husband. All she needed was a willing man. Just one who was willing, able, and he needed to be weak. A man she could rush to the altar with and regret later. Just one. She was even changing her requirements. He didn’t have to be that handsome. Or that rich. He just had to be eligible...and not Luthor. That would be enough to get her freedom. And then she’d have nothing more to do with him.

  Linna tightened her lips, hardened her entire form, and kept her face lowered so nobody could see what else was soured and cruel on her. Men were the cause of her trouble - again - and she was trying to catch one?

  Drake was right. She was failing.

  Her shoulders drooped minutely and she made fists of both hands. She wasn’t giving up. Her head came up and she sought out Luthor Evans. She always had him. He’d already said he’d go against his family for her. She knew he would. She’d just have to help him find his backbone first. She caught his gaze touching upon her before skittering away. She tried to color it as smoldering in her mind, but failed. He was weak. But he was willing. He was probably able, too. Linna shivered again and swallowed that reaction as well.

  She was a beautiful woman. She was desirable. She knew it. Anyone looking her way couldn’t avoid knowing it as well. The glittery white creation she’d designed made all of that impossible to overlook. She had mirrors that verified it. Rhea’s maid had pinned her chestnut tresses all about the crown of her head, leaving one lock to fall over one shoulder. Short sleeves were the fashion, so Linna had done something radically different. She’d had her dress designed with a small puff of material at each shoulder. That was attached to long sleeves of a loosely-woven white netting. She’d then sewn a circlet at each sleeve-end that was caught up on either middle finger, holding the netting in place. The neckline had given her some consternation. The only thing holding the bodice and sleeves in place was a blue ribbon across her shoulders in the back. They would never have stayed up otherwise. Her heart-shaped neckline was provocative and eye-catching and low. The rest of the dress was stark in design, claiming little more than ribbon bows at the hem in order to make gathers that kept her from tripping. It was also skimming every curve she possessed, even without a corset. All-in-all, it was a spectacular dress. It was original and a bit medieval looking, and it was perfect for what she needed.

  Unfortunately none of it was working.

  There was a stir on the floor as someone new entered. Linna looked, as she was certain everyone did. Her mouth dropped opened. Then her plan went right to the pit of her belly where it started pounding alongside her heart, since it got there first. The man walking about the edge of the dancers was creating such a stir, the musicians were faltering into tunelessness before halting altogether. Those still attempting to dance stopped and looked as well.

  Linna closed her eyes, waiting for two complete heartbeats of time before she opened them. He hadn’t disappeared. Not one bit of him.

  The new arrival had dark hair of a black-brown color; it was pulled back tightly into an old-fashioned queue that was defining a face handsome enough to cause swooning. He was wearing a wine-colored short jacket, some very old-fashioned breeches that weren’t disguising the muscle encasing very long legs, and she just knew he couldn’t be real. Nobody that perfect in features was. Linna sucked in a breath and held it. This time she held it for four heartbeats. She didn’t think she was the only one. Even in such old-fashioned attire and looking like he’d just stepped from the halls of the late French Queen, Marie Antoinette’s court, he was still amazing; breath-stealing amazing.

  He’d given off circling the dance floor and was starting to cut through all the standing couples. It didn’t look difficult. He was half a head taller than anyone else and they moved easily where he was carving a way through with the width of those velvet-encased shoulders.

  Linna’s eyes went the same dimension as her mouth. She didn’t have a hope of stopping it. Not only was he incredible, he was doing something just as incredible. He was walking straight through the crowd to her.

  To...her?

  It looked like everyone watched him do it, too.

  Linna dropped her gaze to the highly polished wood beneath her and begged her mind to return. She was afraid she was about to start salivating. She’d been hoping a dream-man would walk in and make part two of her plan easy. Only one thing made this an impossibility: she hadn’t known a man who looked like this one could exist - even in her imagination.

  He reached her and stopped before executing a perfect bow. She returned with a curtsey. She was half-afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her when she tried to rise, but they did.

  “Allow me to introduce myself, Mademoiselle. Raoul Larroquette. At your service.” He’d taken little bits of breath between each section of words, adding a foreign sound to the low timbre of voice. He was still in his bow and was holding out his hand now. “May I enquire, has this dance been spoken for?”

  Linna’s heart was clenching now. She knew that’s what was happening from the pounding pressure that seemed to be radiating through her. She wondered how such a thing was possible and how to stop it. Linna Daniels didn’t react to a man like this - any man. No matter what man.

  His hand lowered and he pulled out of his bow. There was a slight pout to his lips when she glanced at them, as if he sucked in on his cheeks in order to make such an expression.

  “Well? Has this dance been spoken for? Or am I too late?”

  He was actually asking it. Linna was afraid she was going to embarrass herself completely by giggling, but caught it. She lifted her chin, met the indecipherable shade of his eyes, and replied. “There isn’t any music.”

  “Ah. Allow me to correct that. Immediately.”

  He held out one arm toward her, while signaling to the orchestra with the other. If it started any music, she couldn’t hear it over what sounded like running water in her ears. Linna reached out and touched her fingers to a velvet-covered arm. It felt just as hard as it looked, just as strong. Amazing.

  He was very graceful for a large man. She noticed it as he walked lithe
ly and surely at her side, fitting his strides to two of her own. Linna was impressed. She’d grown to a respectable height and yet she barely grazed his shoulder. She’d never seen anyone to compare. The man was enormous and fit. Everywhere. Her eyes flitted toward the legs walking beside hers.

  He stopped, turned his forearm enough that it released her grip and had her fingers within his the next moment. Then he was lifting those same fingers to his lips. All about them, couples were dancing. She raised her eyes to his as he lightly touched his lips to her fingertips.

  Green eyes, tinged slightly with a touch of gray, met hers. Linna held the gasp inside where it belonged. She couldn’t stop the infusion of color that tinted her entire body. There wasn’t a thing she could do about the rub of material at her breasts either, except experience it. She had to look back down. Everything about her reaction was horrible. Linna was always in control. The running water noise was still there as well, making it difficult to hear.

  “You do know how, don’t you?”

  He’d released her hand and she just stood there. “What?” she finally asked.

  “The dance. You. Me.” He placed her left hand on his right shoulder, before holding out his hand for her other one.

  Her palm met solid, steel-like mass beneath the velvet. The mountain of chest beneath his jacket rose and fell with each breath, taking her hand with it. What a man...she told herself.

  He reached for her right hand since she hadn’t proffered it and held her fingers lightly. “It’s a waltz. It’s new and acceptable, although considered risqué. Three steps, then pause. You can follow, non?”

  Raoul started off and Linna moved with him, catching glimpses of the kaleidoscope of others swirling about her peripheral vision. She raised her eyes to his chin, evaluating...calculating. He was very handsome. A slight cleft dented the end of his jaw.

  She felt his breath on her nose, her cheek, and then to the exposed flesh below her throat. The resultant blizzard of shivers made her breasts react, while what could only be a groan came from the man at her fingertips. Linna’s eyes widened but he couldn’t have seen it. The hand at her back moved, pulling her closer to him. She didn’t resist. Her feet weren’t moving to any dance step she knew. It wasn’t that she couldn’t dance, she’d just never experienced it like she was at the moment. She might as well be floating.

  Her body entered the enclosure created by his arms and she tipped her head toward the chest in front of her eyes. He has mother-of-pearl buttons, she thought. Very expensive. He was dressed in old-fashioned court attire, but it was elegant and also very expensive. There were large ruffles on his shirt placket. She could see little seed pearls applied to the edges of the ruffle. His velvet jacket was fit to him without an inch of room to spare. He had expensive tastes and a great tailor. Such a man could keep a wife in the manner she was accustomed to…or even better.

  “You smell like violets.”

  The rumble of voice interrupted her. Linna tipped her head up, scanning the full roundness of his lower lip. He hadn’t one scar on his skin that she could tell...not one. All of which bode well.

  He smiled, although the lips didn’t open. It made dimples dent his cheeks. Linna sucked in the breath. No man can be so gifted! Their children were going to be astounding. They’d have two of them. Maybe three. She wasn’t going to just be a brood mare. He’d introduced himself as a Larroquette. They were at a ball at the old Larroquette Mansion in the French Quarter. He had to be one of them. That was another mark in his favor.

  Larroquette was an old New Orleans name. They’d had property since the city was laid out nearly a century earlier, with streets named for the royal houses of France. Everything about him was very impressive. An old important name, wealth, property. Presence. He was very nearly perfect, except for one small thing. He didn’t look easy to dominate. She sucked in on her cheeks. How did one go about dominating such an impressive specimen?

  “You must tell me what thoughts bring such a look. If, of course, you get over your anxiety of me.”

  “What?” Linna replied.

  Raoul chuckled again. Linna’s left hand rose and fell with it. He moved from holding her fingers to encasing her right hand entirely within his. Then, he was bringing their enjoined hands to the middle of his chest. Linna’s eyes followed every move.

  “Am I being indiscreet?” he asked.

  “Indiscreet?” she echoed.

  “I’m new to the city, you see. Very new. I couldn’t help myself, though.”

  The music was halting. Linna sensed it more than heard it. There was a moment of time when she toyed with pulling away before another dance began. Raoul hadn’t ceased moving.

  “I saw you from across the floor. It took my breath. I’ve rarely beheld such a beauty. I don’t even know your name, and you’ve an aversion to looking at me. I hope it’s not because I’m…displeasing.”

  She nearly snorted. “Oh no. Not at all. No.” She took a deep breath and slanted her chin slightly. All in preparation for meeting his gaze. He thought her shy? She held the satisfaction deep where it wouldn’t show. “I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

  He wasn’t meeting her eyes. He was staring at her bodice, and sucking in a breath, shuddering slightly, before moving his gaze to hers. Those moss-colored eyes held hers. There was a starburst of deepest brown at the center of his. Linna forgot to blink. Breathe. Think.

  And she didn’t like one bit of it.

  He blinked slowly, eyelashes the same dark shade as his hair shadowing his cheeks, and the look he gave her now blazed a path right into her. Linna moved her gaze quickly way. She hadn’t any experience to deal with any of it.

  “Have you many dances left on your card?”

  “What?” It didn’t make it to sound, but he must have heard it because he answered as if he had.

  “If so, I’m claiming them. If not, I’m still claiming them.”

  “What?”

  This time, she spoke to the lace at his throat. She didn’t look any higher. She had to gather her wits. Strategize. Recalculate. It felt like she was melting. And that meant she was losing. Another taste of looking into his eyes and she’d probably forget about her plan and how much it meant. She didn’t have to question it.

  She knew.

  He chuckled, this time loudly enough to hear. Linna moved her body a fraction closer and ordered her mind to function. This was definitely the man. Definitely. Her fingers slid up and over his velvet-covered shoulder, marveling at how thick it was. She could barely reach the seams sewing front to back. Part two of the plan. She had to concentrate on that and only that. Always.

  “I’ll not let you go easily. Not now. I can’t believe how you feel in my arms, how pleasant you smell...and how enticingly you’re put together. All of which is incredibly indiscreet of me to say. I don’t even know your name.”

  “I—.” Her voice stopped. Say something, Linna! Refute him. It was definitely against her goal to argue with him. Her mind raced. Which should it be? Maidenly shocked? Easily available? Seductive? Innocent? Which?

  “I go too fast? I beg pardon, Mademoiselle. Perhaps it’s the dance. Perhaps the evening. Perhaps both.”

  Linna made her decision. It was going to be a combination of reactions. Enough to intrigue and captivate. She had time for part two. She had the rest of the evening. She lidded her eyes before looking up at him, and then sucked her lower lip into her mouth before releasing it. She’d done it on numerous occasions. It worked perfectly. She could tell by his swiftly indrawn breath and the instant tensing of his entire frame, starting with where she had her hand pressed.

  “My name is Linna,” she whispered, putting a slight note of huskiness to the sound. “Linna Maria Daniels.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The shiver surprised him. Cord looked down at those liquid brown eyes and felt his back muscles clench spasmodically. Who was he to ruin her? Embarrass and defame her? What had she done? Nothing.

  He di
dn’t have to ask.

  He just knew.

  She exuded innocence. She was also totally desirable. The costume Simons had designed didn’t have much room in the breeches. He had to keep Linna from looking down. He didn’t know what she’d do. She might run screaming from his arms. Any virtuous woman would.

  He flushed and looked above her head. Cursing wasn’t going to stop this inferno. He had to. It wasn’t going to be easy. He took several deep breaths and held them, amazed that he was still in rhythm with the music with her in his arms. If he didn’t get himself under control, there wasn’t an acceptable way to exit gracefully. He wondered if Simons had outfitted him like this purposely.

  He caught the little Frenchman’s eye on him and knew it was a wasted question. Simons toasted him silently from his position beside the entry doors. Cord groaned lightly.

  “Have I done something...wrong?” she asked.

  “Oh no. Non, cherie. You’re perfect. It’s just a bit hot in here. Would you be caring to stroll to the refreshment table?”

  “If you don’t think it too forward of me,” she replied instantly, although there was a rosy shade to her cheeks.

  Cord moved to one side of her. If she’d been a little taller, her skirts would have hidden him. Since she was so small, he had to find another option. He put her in front and to the side of him, keeping distant as he steered them toward the table. It was the best he could contrive. He really needed a whiskey.

  He probably should have visited a bawdy house he decided, accepting a glass of punch from another of Fletcher’s men, Birdie, who winked. Cord stopped another groan. He knew why he hadn’t visited another woman. He’d wanted to build it up and save it for this one. He was desperate to save it for her.