“Look who’s talking,” she snapped, baring her teeth and yanking her arm away. “Touch me again and I’ll garrote you. I was going to save this for later, but since I can’t stand your hands on me another moment, I’ll tell you now: This betrothal is over!”
Bernard grimaced, distaste etched in every line of his face. “You don’t have any say in ending our betrothal. Your uncle set it up, and he is the only one who can nullify it.”
She brushed her hands together, ridding them of the slimy feeling of having touched Bernard, and shook out her skirts. Lifting her head to meet his gaze, she glared at the man who thought he owned her.
“Lord Karmon, I have officially gained my majority... and my independence. My money is not subject to my uncle’s control after tonight. I am not subject to my uncle after tonight. And I choose not to be subject to you, ever. Now get out of my sight; you’re obstructing my view.”
“You won’t be so saucy once your uncle hears about this,” he sputtered, face red with anger.
Ignoring his blustering, Chassy turned her back on him, no longer concerned with anything he might have to say. Moving to the stair rail, she also ignored the gasps of those who had gathered around to eavesdrop. Leaning over the side, she searched the crowd until she again sighted her prey.
“Ah! There you are, you handsome hunk, you.” She sighed dreamily as the man paused to speak to an acquaintance. As the two men spoke, he shifted until he was facing the stairs, giving her an unobstructed frontal view.
The man was gorgeous. No male should be built like that, endowed that well... If that bulge behind his pantaloons represented his cock at rest, she couldn’t wait to see it in full erection.
Perhaps he follows the current fad and stuffs padding in his small-clothes. Even as the thought crossed her mind, Chastity chuckled, shaking her head. Somehow, observing the fluid shifting of honed muscles as he maneuvered effortlessly across the parquet floor, she just knew there was nothing false or artificial about his athletic body. That bulge was all him -- every long, thick inch of it.
Liana had been right, as she usually proved to be. Fate had caught up with her tonight... and what a fate. Forgetful of her audience, she groaned deep in her throat, a gruff, sexy sound she’d never made before. Pressing both hands against her chest, she attempted to contain her thudding heart, her thundering pulse. Mind racing, she blinked drooping lids, striving to clear her racing thoughts.
Just the sight of him energized her, made her see colors where the world had been black and white. Her nose twitched as aromas assailed her -- the sweet, cloying miasma of a hundred different, battling perfumes almost overwhelmed her. Beneath it all, the scent of him, sharp and green, like new growth in a primal jungle, reached her, driving a spear of lust into her brain.
The knowledge of him thrummed in her blood. Since early girlhood, she had dreamed, had chased an elusive form through fantasy landscapes of recurring nightly visions. At first, they’d been frightening, disturbing, dark and mysterious. Over the years, the dreams had morphed into erotic fantasies that made it easy for her to reject the pale imitations of manhood surrounding her. None of her would-be swains could measure up to her dream lover.
Without having ever met him, she knew this man loved peas, but never touched liver. Knew he kissed divinely, liked his tea cold, and his sex hot and sweaty.
Certainty warred with confusion. How could she know such intimate details about the man, yet not know something as simple as his name? With no effort on his part, this man had already captured her attention. If she weren’t extremely careful, he could end up stealing her heart.
Hands shaking, she turned back to her cousin and gripped her wrist, intent on gaining some information about the man. “Ali, quickly, you’ve got to tell me who that gorgeous man is.”
“I don’t think I’d better. You’re already too starry-eyed over this man. He is dangerous with a capitol D.” Alicia leaned away to murmur an absent acknowledgment at some late-arriving guests.
Gnawing her bottom lip, Chastity waited impatiently while the young marchioness completed her hostess duties so she could get back to their conversation. She couldn’t help but notice how her cousin dealt with each of her guests, the important ones as well as the not-so-important. Everyone was treated as if they were special.
If one didn’t know better, they’d think Alicia loved hostessing. In fact, Chassy knew she abhorred these elaborate social events, but would do anything for her adored and adoring husband, Monty... Montgomery, marquis of Avondale, held political aspirations.
Ali’s father, the duke of Eathrington -- acting as Chastity’s new guardian -- had agreed to sign Monty’s Indigent Bill if he would allow his wife to host this party. Of course, Monty had agreed, his hopes of political advancement winning over his dislike of his cousin-by-marriage.
As soon as Alicia finished her duty, Chastity spun her around. “All right, now give! Tell me everything you know about that man.”
“You know, Chassy, I’ve always liked you. It isn’t your fault that you had to spend the majority of your formative years in the uncivilized wilds of New India with eccentric uncle Cedric.”
“Gee, thanks, cuz.”
Ali raised her eyebrow at the sarcastic note in Chassy’s voice. “You’re welcome. Watching your outlandish behavior, while frightening at times, has been very entertaining. I wouldn’t dare behave like you, but I’m actually enjoying this gala. At least, I was until you went ga-ga and your eyes popped over the one man you should never have seen.”
“Who is he?” Chassy gritted her teeth. “I swear, Ali, if you don’t tell me, I’ll go ask him myself.”
Alicia shook her head and tsk-tsked at her charge’s threat. “I believe you would, too. Very well, then, his name is Darian Acer, second son of the earl of Chesley. He’s since been disinherited and is now known as ‘Dare-the-devil’ Acer -- ‘Dare’ for short.”
“Darian...” She tasted it on her tongue. “I like it. It’s a strong name, fit for a strong man.”
“I wonder how he got in,” Alicia mused aloud. “I certainly did not invite him.” She faced Chastity and placed both hands on her shoulders, forcing her to pay attention. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she hissed, “Listen to me, Chassy... Dare may be beautiful to behold, but unfortunately, he is not safe. He is not the kind of man a woman like you should pursue.”
Chassy disengaged herself from her cousin’s hold. “A woman like me...? Shall I tell you what kind of woman I am, Ali?” A practiced flick of the wrist set her dainty fan in motion, too late, trying to shield her expression. She hoped Ali didn’t see the avid gaze she directed toward Darian Acer. “I am the kind of woman who wants Darian Acer.”
Humming softly, Chassy twisted her neck and visually followed the gentleman’s leisurely progress across the crowded ballroom, watched him saunter about with the unconscious grace of a Bengal tiger.
Women paused and stared when he entered their sphere. Conversations lagged and petered out until he passed by. The feminine attention he garnered didn’t surprise her. She’d never seen such luscious eye candy, and she was sure the other women had just as good taste.
“It cannot be. You are the daughter and niece of dukes. He is the disgraced, disinherited son of the earl of Chesley. Since his family threw him out, his behavior has been notorious, and I don’t like the way you are blatantly ogling him.”
“I shall soon do more than ogle, believe me.”
“I feel a sinking sense of impending doom here.” Ali clutched at her chest. “I’ve never seen you so bemused. Are you bewitched? Father will have an apoplexy when he catches wind of the excessive interest his wayward niece and affianced ward openly displayed for a man he holds in abhorrence.”
“After tonight, your father’s sentiments will have no bearing on what I do.”
“Posh! He’ll never countenance an alliance there, darling.”
“You mean marriage?”
At her cousin’s nod, her lips curled up. She cou
ldn’t help it -- she laughed. “First of all, I repeat, his desires no longer concern me; and secondly, one does not need to marry to enjoy such a magnificent animal! Just look at him...” She followed her own advice and returned to doing so. “He is a fine specimen of prime male flesh.”
In a day when men wore their locks short and restrained or confined beneath stiff wigs, he allowed his black locks to flow in a wild sweep down over his broad shoulders. No ribbon confined the silky tresses that many women would have clawed eyes out to have as their own. Chassy giggled excitedly, licking her lips at the thought of getting her hands into that sleek, abundant fall of storm-dark hair.
“Shush! Do not even jest like that!” Alicia gasped. She glanced about, hoping no others had heard her cousin’s bold comments.
“It is so like you New British to restrict yourselves when it comes to sexual matters.”
“That’s a bold statement, even for you, cousin. Recall that you are also a New Britain noblewoman, and expected to act like one!”
“Pooh! Who was jesting?”
Alicia drew back. “Your attitude makes my heart pound. I feel trouble gathering around like acid thunder clouds. If you continue to refuse to be governed by what you call the ‘staid strictures of our shallow society’... I wish I could have gotten my hands around uncle’s irresponsible neck.”
“Why? Because I’ve been raised with all the freedom of a boy child, allowed to roam free in the jungles of Newer India with the children of servants? Trained to think?”
“That’s a start. The unorthodox beliefs you espouse are the direct result of your exotic upbringing. It doesn’t help that you openly scoff at society’s strictures, constantly courting censure. Your antics are keeping polite society in an uproar.”
Chassy raised her eyebrows. “Really, Ali... I cause uproar because I think nothing of flitting neck-and-nothing in Hyde Park, or of visiting Hookman’s library unaccompanied by a maid?”
“Not just those instances, though they were bad enough, but what about when you went into the slum-infested area of Whitechapel to find the home of that little chimneysweep?”
“He was injured cleaning the chimney in my rooms.”
“That’s the attitude I’m talking about. If you weren’t the daughter and niece of a duke and filthy rich in your own right, you would be a social pariah. Instead, you’ve been deemed an original, and every unattached male of any consequence was courting you before Father announced your betrothal.”
“My popularity shall be on the rise again when word spreads that I am once more available.”
“I doubt even your unrivaled popularity could withstand the rumor of a romantic association with Darian ‘Dare-the-devil’ Acer.” Alicia cautioned. “Everyone knows he compromised his own brother’s fiancée. When she was found increasing, she drowned herself, and the brother -- their father’s heir -- hanged himself two days later. His father publicly accused him at the double funeral, and cast him off when he offered no defense. His poor mother died in a fire less than a week later. Some say she set the blaze herself, driven mad from the loss of her sons. His father had Darian turned away from the church. He wasn’t allowed to attend her funeral.”
Her voice dropped to an intimate whisper. “Since then, he has become naught but an amoral rakehell, flaunting his sexual excesses in society’s face. On top of that, he is poor as a church mouse. It’s rumored he has only his winnings at the card tables with which to support himself.”
Chastity’s fingers closed on her fan until the thin wooden boards threatened to snap. “What did people expect? That he would crawl into a corner and hide? He is not that kind of man!”
“How would you know what kind of man he is?” Alicia demanded, her eyebrows winging high in skeptical inquiry. “You haven’t even met him yet, Chassy. Do you claim to be an expert on his innocence or guilt, or on how he would respond in any given situation?”
“I-I just know. I don’t believe he is guilty at all,” Chastity replied after a moment’s startled reflection. “And as for making his acquaintance... There is no time like the present!” Laughing gaily, Chastity gathered up the voluminous drifts of her spangled skirts and sprinted down the wide staircase.
“No, Chastity! Wait!”
She didn’t wait; she sped up, easily outdistancing her cousin who no doubt thought her mad, courting a looming social disaster. Joy spun through her. Feeling light and buoyant, caught up in the excitement of embracing her fate, she raced through the ballroom, her laughter trilling out behind her.
In the widening distance, she heard Alicia’s hushed cries as she hurriedly tiptoed after her. Sparing a thought for her poor cousin’s fashionably shod feet, she hoped her dogged relative would stop following her before those tottering heels landed her flat on her face. Besides, nothing she could say would stop this reckless tumble into scandal.
Chapter Two
Where the hell are you, Crofton?
Angry and impatient, Dare stopped a waiter and deftly exchanged his empty champagne flute for a full one. He swept the crowded ballroom with a jaded black glare. Lifting his glass, he tossed back the high-priced bubbly, barely tasting it, his disregard an insult to the years spent in perfecting its exquisite bouquet.
His ire grew. Crofton had begged and pleaded until Dare had finally agreed to meet him at the Avondales’ party, but he was nowhere in sight, and Dare’s legendary temper was in danger of exploding.
Snagging another full glass, Dare gulped its contents down. He hated these debutante events, and never attended. Being here made him antsy, aroused buried memories. He preferred they stay buried.
He curtly refused a fourth flute from a hovering waiter. There wasn’t enough champagne in the house to drown out the clamoring voices of the past. He needed something stronger... scotch or a good fuck.
Since an excess of scotch always left him with a headache, he decided on the latter. He swept the room again, this time with a darkly sensual intent to his midnight gaze.
Years of debauchery had honed his senses where women were concerned. His chest rose on a deep inhalation. He could smell the subtle aroma of sexual arousal a room away, even when masked by the strongest perfume. He knew -- and played on -- the allure his salacious reputation held for these bored women of the upper ten thousand. He had but to wink and the majority of them would fall over themselves climbing into his bed. There was no uncertainty, no longer any delight to the chase or thrill of victory.
What chase? He’d grown weary of their eagerness long ago. Lately, it seemed the ladies’ lust outstripped his. Emotionally, he was a deadened husk, and that was just the way he liked it. What did emotions have to do with lust?
Fucking was a matter of hips and lips, friction and heat, cocks and cunts. Contrary to rumor, he didn’t accept payment for fucking. He considered the act a mutual scratching. Both parties received what they wanted. He made sure of that. No woman had ever claimed he left her unsatisfied, but once finished, he showered and left. He never slept with the women he’d pleasured, never took them to his quarters.
This place held any number of likely bed-partners and he had no intention of going back to his quarters alone. Let’s see... whom would he choose, which lady would partner him tonight? Lady B--? No. He’d had her early last year, and while she had been an acceptable toss, he made it a firm rule never to go back for seconds.
Lady S--? Uh-uh. Groverton claimed she was a bed banshee; left teeth marks and scratches all over the man. He preferred his skin intact, thank you. Young Lady C--? Hell, no! The chit had “marriage mart” written all over her. Marriage! Ugh! It was enough to make a man’s cock wilt.
“Dare! Glad you could make it!” A boisterous greeting accompanied the hearty slap to his shoulder.
Darian abandoned the amusing pastime of choosing tonight’s lover to glower at his erstwhile friend and secret brother. “Where the hell else would I be, seeing as you badgered a promise of attendance out of me?”
Chezann Crofton, earl of Rotham -
- C.C. to his friends -- grinned. Smiling, he looked too innocent to be friends with the notorious Dare Acer. His dark morning-glory-blue eyes and his fair complexion were a gift from his mother. So was the thick blond hair, gleaming with highlights of platinum, that tumbled over his high brow and cascaded down his shoulders to be caught back in a thin black leather ribbon. But the chiseled profile, the cleft chin, the full, perfectly curved lips were the genetic legacy of his publicly sanctimonious father, the earl of Chesley. Even his height and muscular physique was a match for Dare’s, and those with discerning eyes easily saw the familial resemblance. Chezann was a golden, angelic copy of the darkly demonic Dare.
People who knew him -- like his brother and their cronies -- knew his looks were deceiving. Dare wondered for the hundredth time how they had come to be so close.
The unacknowledged son of his adulterous mother’s noble lover, Chezann had been raised as another man’s heir, with all the trappings of wealth and position that came with the lie. Upon his beloved stepfather’s death, he had used that wealth and social power to implement his long-awaited revenge. His first act had been to put his mother out of his family seat and cut her allowance to a bare minimum. Further, he barred her from ever stepping foot in any of his numerous dwellings, with the threat of cutting her funds totally. His next move had been to befriend his disgraced half-brother to annoy and toy with his “natural” father.
At twenty-seven, C.C. was as profligate as his elder half-brother, if not more so. He trusted few, especially the fairer sex, and callously used his spectacular looks to practice his amorous wiles.
“All right, C.C. Why am I here?” Dare asked, his low voice an irritated growl.
“I want you to meet a young lady,” his brother replied, glancing about the room almost nervously.
“Dammit, C.C.!” Dare’s thick brows came down over his glittering eyes. “Tell me you didn’t have me cooling my heels for over an hour to meet a debutante.”
“Not just any debutante, Dare,” C.C. protested. “Wait till you meet her. I tell you, she is nothing like the usual fare. This woman has spirit! Imagination! Verve!” His eyes lit up when he spied Chastity already coming toward him. “She’s making her way over here! I swear to you, Dare, this might be the woman I could give up all the others for!”
Charming the Snake Page 14