Reckless Viscount (6 page)

“I appreciate the sanction, my lord,” Abbigael retorted with a smile, “but you haven’t answered my question.”

“Quite right,” Rutherford admitted then paused as he seemed to consider his answer. “I asked you to dance because it looked as though Riley might.”

Abbigael glanced over to where Lady Blackbourne had been joined by her husband and a few older gentlemen. Lord Riley had left the group.

She ignored the sinking pull of disappointment in her stomach and looked back to her partner.

“You thought to thwart him because you dislike him?”

Rutherford glanced down at her again. This time, a wrinkle of consternation had furrowed between his brows. The man really did not enjoy explaining himself. After a moment he sighed, and for some reason decided to indulge her curiosity.

“I thwart him because it is amusing to do so.” Her expression must have revealed her further confusion because he gave a sound that could almost have been classified as a brief chuckle. “A petty maneuver and I should be ashamed of myself. But that scoundrel’s cocksure arrogance needs to be knocked down a few pegs.”

“I see,” she responded quietly, wondering if the elegant lord realized he’d just become the pot to Riley’s kettle. She had to glance away to hide her amusement.

Lord Rutherford took her on a few more turns before he spoke again.

“You dance delightfully, Miss Granger.”

Abbigael blinked at the blatant lie. She was an awkward and uninspired dancer.

“But now that I’ve made my point to Riley, I would prefer to exit the dance floor. May I escort you to the refreshment table?”

Abbigael realized she didn’t have much of a choice as Lord Rutherford turned and pulled her hand through his arm the moment he finished speaking. Before she could form a reply, they were halfway across the ballroom.

“Not many people contradict your wishes, do they?” she asked in amusement.

Rutherford kept his gaze straight ahead and replied without a hint of contrition. “No. Why should they?”

The refreshments were set up in a separate room just off from the ballroom. As they neared the double-door entrance, it became obvious that getting through the crush of people overflowing from the small ante-room was going to be difficult.

It may have been Rutherford’s imposing shoulder breadth that allowed them to get through the initial flow of guests, but once inside there were hundreds more people and very little movement.

Rutherford frowned over most of the heads of those around them.

“How is it that everyone decides they need punch at the same time? There are at least seventy-six people between us and the refreshment table.”

Abbigael smiled at his exact figure. “Are you sure there even are refreshments in this room? Perhaps we’ve wandered into an impromptu mob of sorts. I cannot see more than two bodies past our present position.”

Her escort looked down at her from his great solid height then lifted his gaze to glance over her head and scan the wall behind her.

“Miss Granger, there seems to be a reasonable concern that you could get crushed in a crowd like this. I will have more success managing this task without you. Do wait for me against the wall beside that door. I will return to you posthaste.”

Without waiting for her acquiescence, he turned and within seconds was swallowed up by the crowd. Her amusement was replaced by exasperation at the unceremonious abandonment. Abbigael had no choice but to turn in the direction he had pointed and hope she found the right spot to await his return.

Chapter Five

For a woman as slight as Abbigael, making one’s way against the flow of a thirsty crowd was no easy feat. She was rewarded with a few elbow jabs and shoulder bumps that nearly knocked her off her feet more than once by the time she reached the slightly less populated area along the edge of the room. She worried she may have gotten turned around, but she found the door Lord Rutherford had indicated.
A
door anyway, and the wall beside it was cool and solid when she pressed her back to it.

She released the heavy breath she had been holding, deciding whether Lord Rutherford came back for her or not, she was not moving from the wall until the crowd thinned. She barely finished her exhale when someone stepped in front of her, wrapped a solid masculine arm around her waist and whisked her away from her spot as if she were nothing more than vapors being blown by the wind.

Her shock at the abduction tumbled quickly into a complicated sense of exhilaration when she looked up and recognized the angled lines of Lord Riley’s stunning profile.

“What are you…?” she sputtered in confusion just as he swept her through the nearby door and into the narrow darkened hallway beyond. The door shut solidly behind them, shutting them off from the thousands of other people at the party.

“Relax, Irish. It’s just me.” He spoke in a whisper, and in the sudden darkness it was her only means of orientation. That, and the fact that his arm was still wrapped around her waist, pulling her up tightly to his side. His chest was solid and warm against hers, his shoulders wide beneath her hands, and in the air hovered a subtle suggestion of tobacco and cedar.

Her lungs tightened, but not with fear. And her heart jumped into a quick tattoo.

Relax? What a ridiculous suggestion.

“My lord,” she began, inserting a stern note into her voice. She moved her hand from his shoulder to press it against his chest as she tried to angle her body away from him. He didn’t loosen his hold. “What exactly do you think you are doing?”

“Exactly?” he quipped.

Abbigael could hear the smile in his low voice.

“Well, I stole you away from the bright and glittering ball so we may stand alone together in a darkened hallway.”

“Why?” She shifted her feet and twisted her shoulders in another attempt to dislodge herself from his arms, but got nowhere.

“Crushing crowds can be a dreadful hindrance to private conversation.”

“We have nothing private to say to each other. I insist you let me go.” She pushed at the arm encircling her waist.

“Why?” he asked in an almost perfect mimic of her tone when she had asked the same question seconds earlier. “Does this make you nervous?”

He adjusted his stance so their bodies met from knee to chest as he brought his other arm up to join the first around her back. Her heart bounced down to her stomach and then back up again. Sparkling stars appeared behind her eyes and she realized she had stopped breathing. She gulped in a breath, and as her lungs filled swiftly with air, her breasts pressed into his chest and her knees went a little weak.

Nervous?

No. Frantic.

“You must realize how inappropriate this is.” The words came out sharper than she expected, the clipped tones revealing her physical agitation.

“Outrageous even,” he agreed with a note of mischief.

“Definitely.”

He smoothed one of his hands up the length of her spine and began to tease the sensitive skin of her nape with his fingertips. She tried to ignore the delicate shivers that chased down her arms. “Not to mention criminal and destructive. You can’t just steal a woman away like this. Someone might have seen.” She bit her bottom lip as he brushed his thumb over a particularly responsive spot behind her ear. “Damaging whispers may be flying at this very moment.”

“Don’t worry,” he replied in a soothing whisper. His warm breath caressed her temple. “I am well practiced in discretion when I need to be. No one saw us.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Abbigael argued ineffectively.

She shouldn’t be arguing with the man, she should have stomped on his toes by now or boxed his ears. But as soon as the idea entered her mind it was chased away again by another shiver of exquisite sensation as his gossamer caress trailed beneath her jaw.

“I simply wish to talk.”

“Then release me and step away.”

“What?” His surprise was enough to boost her resolve.

“I will talk to you, if you let me go and stop touching me.”

Silence followed her words then he gave a soft rolling laugh that reverberated through her body. The sound was warm and heavy and smooth. And her heart did another breath-stealing dive into her stomach.

“I’d love to find a reason to deny you, but you make a fair request.”

His arms dropped away from her and he stepped back and to the side. With her pulse no longer thudding in her ears, she could hear the muted hum and laughter from the party that continued in their absence. Her eyes had become somewhat accustomed to the inky darkness and she was able to see the shadowed outline of his broad-shouldered form as he leaned back against the door that separated them from the ball.

“I said I would talk to you. You don’t need to block the door.”

“Just a little insurance,” he drawled as he crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. She wished she could see his eyes, or some detail of his expression to tell her what he may be thinking.

“For all your presentation as a devil-may-care rogue, you can be quite ruthless, can’t you?”

“When it comes to something I want.”

His voice was low when he answered. The tones were filled with dark hints of intimacy that curled around Abbigael’s heightened senses, making her feel as disconcerted as when he had held her against him.

“What do you want from me?” she asked without thinking. As soon as the words were spoken she realized the danger in her question. There was only one thing that came to mind for what a man like Lord Riley might want. And she suspected he was very good at getting it.

“I’m curious about you.”

“Why?” Her voice grew more insistent in her growing impatience. When his only reply was a careless shrug, she continued a bit caustically. “Interesting how you are willing to risk
my
reputation to assuage
your
curiosity.”

His voice was low and soothing. “As I said, I know well how to be discreet.”

“Then why would Lady Blackbourne be concerned by our association? Somehow, your character has gained a wicked repute.”

“I said I was discreet. I can’t help it if former companions choose to sing my praises.”

“Sing praises or cry warnings?”

His chuckle was deep and rich. “Only an innocent would differentiate between the two.”

Abbigael had not considered her lack of social experience as such a distinct short-coming until just that moment. She wished she had had more opportunities to practice flirtation. Then maybe she could have responded to his comment with some clever quip to put him in his place, or at the very least give the impression she was not so green as he seemed to believe.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as unease settled around her shoulders. This man, for all of his careless banter, was not one to be taken lightly.

“For the moment,” he added when the silence began to stretch too long, “I am simply curious about you.”

It was the for-the-moment part that worried her.

“That isn’t exactly reassuring.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

The timbre of his voice had deepened yet again. The sound curled like the gentle unfurling of heat from a fireplace, causing the surface of her skin to react with delicate awareness.

“I wonder,” he began again softly, “how long it would take for me to prove you are not the docile and tame little creature you try to be.”

She stiffened. A flash of panic skittered across her nerves.

As if sensing her discomfort, he clarified. “I wouldn’t expose you to the world.”

Relief released her held breath.

“Just to myself.”

And panic flashed again. With just a few provocative statements, the man had her spinning. Of course, it couldn’t have been on purpose. It wasn’t possible he could know how carefully she fought to maintain a steady appearance of calm tranquility.

“You don’t trust me, do you, Irish?”

Abbigael looked at him in the tenebrous light, wishing again it were not so dark she couldn’t see even the barest features of his expression.

“I don’t think I should answer that.”

He laughed then and the sound was rich and low, causing another wave of heat when she already felt overly warm.

“That’s all right. The answer is plain enough.”

The light arrogance in his tone increased the sense that she was out of her element here. She did not like being the object of amusement for anyone.

“Are you making sport of me, Lord Riley?”

“Not at all. I find you startlingly delightful.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I wish I could say the same for you.”

“Oh?” His voice lifted on the word. “Do you want me to charm you, Irish?”

“No!” she replied sharply.

If she could have the sort of visceral response she was experiencing now when he was simply being a nuisance, she didn’t want to know what would happen to her if he intentionally tried to seduce her.

He pushed away from his post at the door and stepped in front of her. A rush of anticipation flew through her from head to tingling toes. She didn’t back away, even when he came close enough that she could feel the warmth from his body. She should have stepped back, kept her distance, resisted his advance. But she felt challenged by his boldness, as if retreat would only give him more advantage.