Chapter
One
ady
Adrianna Beachwood slid into the shadows masking the terrace, her attention
captivated on the tall stranger bowing over Lady Bracken’s hand in the
receiving line. At last, a gentleman
worthy of my consideration. He straightened and bestowed a brilliant smile
on his hostess before moving through the reception room in her direction.
Sauntering past in elegant glory leaving the expensive fragrance of bergamot in
his wake, he astounded her. Dangerously handsome and with the hungry
countenance of a wolf, he cast a predatory gaze over the silk encased ladies
gathering in the foyer. From the enthusiastic titters beside her and the
flutter of fans in her periphery, his perfect proportions, and elegant form had
attracted more than a few ladies devotion.
She
admired tall men and he was indeed the most stylish of gentlemen. His
magnificent broad shoulders fit snugly inside a dark blue jacket nipped at the
waist and worn over crisp ivory linen with an overindulgence of lace in the
French mode. Her gaze drifted in wanton abandon from his expertly folded silk
cravat tucked into a heavily embroidered waistcoat to his breeches cut tight
enough to enhance his long muscular legs. Lifting her fan to hide her heated
cheeks, she gaped after him. Rather than covering his head with a wig, he had
queued his glossy ebony hair at the nape without one trace of powder, yet he
certainly appeared to be a devotee to fashion by the cut of his cloth, and the
expensive lace at his cuffs.
Her attention
matched his swagger in the direction of the ballroom and entranced by his
devilish countenance, she stepped into the hallway and followed him along the
passageway. She picked up her step, but
he sauntered straight past the ballroom without as much as a glimpse within and
continued in the direction of the card room. Bother! Adrianna pressed her lips together and stared after him. Determined not to miss the
opportunity to catch his eye, she cleared her throat. The temptation of a man
stopped abruptly and turned to face her. His languid gaze traveled over her and
as he inclined his dark head, the corners of his full mouth twitched into a
secretive smile.
A
booming voice, announcing the arrival of her father, broke the spell.
“Ah,
there you are Adrianna. Why, may I ask do you find it necessary to dally so close to the card room? It is not
seemly for a lady to be in close proximity to
gamesters, my dear.” He moved to her side then his gaze slid past her and
darkened at the sight of the handsome stranger. “Come along, I am sure there
are more suitable gentlemen waiting to fill your card.” He offered his arm.
Annoyed
by her father’s untimely appearance, she composed her features into a mask of disinterest, and rested one hand on his arm. “I
noticed you in the company of Lord Somerton in the receiving room and assumed
you would pass this way so I waited for you, Papa.”
His
nostrils flared in disgust and he bent his head lowering his voice. His acid
tongue lashed over her like a whip.
“You are
not a girl on her first come out and should know better than to expose yourself
to rakes and ne’re do wells.”
She
turned to him aghast. “Oh, Papa, your worry is unfounded. To be sure, Lord
Bracken would not allow scoundrels within a mile of Lady Bracken’s soiree.”
Her
father raised both eyebrows and peered at her thoughtfully through his quizzing
glass.
“Adrianna,
your naivety astounds me. It would seem I will have to keep a closer eye on you
this evening.” He tucked an errant curl into her chignon with unexpected skill.
“Come along, I have arranged for a number of
respectable gentlemen to make your
acquaintance.”
A wave of heat crawled up her neck. Indeed, the delicious man had caused her pulse
to race in an alarming fashion but with her father’s words, the hope of an
introduction to the tantalizing stranger splintered into a thousand pieces. She
forced her lips into a smile, raised her chin, and strolled into the lushly
decorated ballroom. Moving through the crush, she made her way toward her usual
bevy of friends. She inhaled to calm her nerves and wrinkled her nose in
distaste. The delicate glass vases perched high upon alabaster podiums
overflowed with roses but did little to disguise the foul odor of stale sweat permeating the
stiflingly hot air. All at once, the room moved in and out of focus.
“Adrianna.”
Her father’s voice cracked like a whip in her ear. “What is amiss?”
Flicking
open her fan, she met his furious gaze. “It is very hot in here, Papa. Perhaps
a cordial might help?”
Her
father lowered his deep voice to a whisper.
“Very
well. Sit down and for heaven’s sake do not make a scene. It is imperative you
fill your card this evening.” He offered a congenial smile to the small group
watching with interest and deposited her beside a matron. “I will go for some
refreshment, Adrianna.”
Her
heart sank at her father’s direction. She had little choice but to act the
dutiful daughter, although the men her father had thrown in her path had become
as boring as last week's broadsheets. How
am I to stand another evening like this? She gathered her wits and smiled. “Thank you, Papa.”
The
usual old and uninteresting bread puddings of men approached to fill her card.
Listening with feigned interest at their nonsensical dialogue, her thoughts
returned to the handsome stranger. She swallowed hard and gazed at the group of
hopeful suitors. God help her. From this night onward, she would compare all
men to him, her phantom of delight.
The
desire to catch another glimpse of him consumed her and she ignored the
chatter. With effort, she pushed down the overpowering need to lift her skirts
and dash back to the card room. She observed the men her father had selected as
suitable and none of them cut a dashing figure or had the face of a dark angel.
She hid a smile behind her fan forcing her attention to the conversations
buzzing around her like a swarm of angry bees, but her thoughts slipped
unrestrained to the card room and the temptation within. Good Lord, the man had
taken up permanent residence in her mind. One look at him had bewitched her into
a witless ninny.
The
suffocating devotion from the group of balding, overweight, suitors was
unbearable, and waiting for a convenient pause in the conversation, she stood.
“Please excuse me for one moment, gentlemen.”
She
moved through the crush and along the hallway determined to reach her
destination by way of the card room. Lifting her ample silk skirts, she weaved
through the crowd keen to glimpse the gamester’s retreat and the forbidden
delights within. Remaining close to the wall, she slipped into the passageway,
rounded the corner, and paused beside the card room door. She peeked inside and
her heart raced. He sat at a table close to the doorway engaged in conversation
with her host, Lord Bracken. From within, she overheard not a Parisian accent as
she had expected from his attire, but a deep Scottish brogue as potent as the
finest Scotch whisky.
“Aye, I
attended King Louis’ Court less than a month ago. Du Court is not a man I would
do business wi’ and he one of the most brutal men I have had the misfortune to
meet. He takes great pleasure in decapitating his enemies and displaying their
heads on stakes atop the ramparts of his castle.” He cleared his throat. “Not
to mention the rumors abounding in respect of the suspicious deaths of his two
previous wives. The man is a brute and ma advice to ye is to keep well clear of
him.”
Lord
Bracken’s deep voice came in reply.
“It
would seem the rumors I overheard in Whites held some truth.”
She
blinked away images of severed heads hoisted upon stakes and took a few deep
breaths to calm her nerves. Conversation
of such a distressing nature was not for mixed
company to be sure. With care not to appear too interested in the contents
within, she chanced another swift glance inside and she met a pair of emerald
green eyes twinkling with mischief.
Breathless
at the sight of him, she pressed one hand to her throat. Heavens above, not
only had she caught the deliciously handsome man’s attention, but his gaze held an enticing offer of intimacy. Her
face grew uncomfortably hot and she raised her fan in a vain attempt to
disguise her response to him. Unable to look away from his intense expression,
she lingered caught in his spell.
The
stranger winked at her and his full tempting mouth twitched into a smile around
a gold tipped cheroot holder. Her heart
pounded and she froze caught by his sinful attention like a rabbit in a deadly
dance with a fox. He lowered deliciously long black lashes, folded his cards on
the table, dropped his cheroot into the ashtray, and pushed to his feet.
Anticipation
prickled down her spine and her limbs refused the command to move. The stranger
strolled toward her with an interested expression on his handsome face.
Fighting against the overpowering desire to wait for him, she shut her fan,
lifted her nose in a dismissive air, and proceeded along the hallway. His soft
footsteps sounded behind her and his hand brushed her elbow. She should not
stop but the exotic scent of him enveloped her and all good sense fled. Heart
pounding with anticipation, she turned slowly to face him.
He
stared down at her from a great height, his eyes a sliver of green beneath
hooded lids. His gentle smile sent a tingle of awareness to the junction of her
thighs. Dear God, he is magnificent.
“Your
servant, ma lady.” He bowed. “I noticed
ye were trying to get ma attention. If ye have something of importance to say
to me. This is not the place. Would ye perhaps walk wi’ me in the garden?” He
offered his arm.
Heat
shot up her neck scalding her cheeks. Embarrassed, she bobbed a curtsy and
averted her gaze. “I thank you, sir, but as we have not been formally
introduced, I fear I must decline.”
“A
formality easily remedied.” He bestowed a devastating smile upon her. “If ye
will wait one moment.” He bowed and turned back toward the cardroom.
Moments
later, he returned with Lord Bracken. Her father’s best friend gave her a long
considering stare, sighed disapprovingly, and turned to the Scottish gentleman.
“Lady
Adrianna Beechwood, may I present Drew Mackenzie from the Clan Makenzie at Badenoch?”
“I am
your most obedient servant, ma lady.” Mr.
Mackenzie bowed low over her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles
leaving a trail of heat then rose. “Now we have been formally introduced, would
you, by chance have a space on your dance
card for me?”
She
lifted her gaze and fell into an ocean of glittering green. “I am afraid my
card is full.”
He held
her gaze and beside him, Lord Bracken cleared his throat.
“I am
heartbroken but at least allow me to escort ye to the ballroom.” Drew sighed
and offered his arm.
Unnerved
by the overwhelming desire to melt into his strong arms and damn the
consequences, she dragged her senses into a modicum of order, and smiled in her best coquettish manner. “Thank you.”
Her
pulse raced with every step toward the ballroom. The crush opened like the sea for Moses allowing their passage. People stared and chits
dropped open their jaws at the sight of her splendid companion. When they
paused on the perimeter of the dance floor, he turned to face her and bowed.
“If ye
are not spoken for, I would verra much
like to call on ye, ma lady.” Mackenzie
smiled warmly and met her gaze. “If ye would permit such a thing?”
“I must
admit, good sir, you are an intriguing fellow and I would be most happy for you
to call on me.” She smiled and made her curtsy. “I beg you to excuse me. I find
I am late for the first set. Please accept my apologies for disturbing your
game.”
Unnerved
beyond reason, she brushed past him and pushed through the crush spilling from
the passageway. The music had started for the first set, and to her relief one
of her father’s elderly colleagues, Lord Winton, strode toward her, his ruddy
cheeks dimpling from a wide smile.
“I
believe this is my set?” Lord Winton bowed over her hand dispersing a shower of
dust from his overly powdered wig. “May I have the pleasure of escorting you to
supper this evening, Lady Adrianna?”
Smiling,
she met his gaze. “Yes, I would like that very much, Lord Winton.” She gave him
her curtsy and laid a hand on his arm.
Standing
opposite her partner in the middle of the ballroom, she searched the crowd for
Drew Mackenzie, and her heart squeezed at the sight of him. He stood out like a
beacon at the edge of the dance floor with one shoulder resting nonchalantly
against the wall. He smiled outrageously, then turned and vanished into the
crowd.
Her
stomach fluttered in an unnerving fashion. In truth, no gentleman had ever
looked upon her with desire, after all, her brown curls and fuller figure
usually attracted widowers. Indeed, he had caused an unfamiliar curl of desire to blossom inside her and she wanted to
experience the thrill again. At last, she had caught a young man’s interest.
Excited at the thought of their fortuitous introduction, she smiled and could
not contain the enthusiasm in her dance steps much to the delight of Lord
Winton.
“It is
good to see you smile, Lady Adrianna.” Lord Winton’s violet-scented breath accosted her nose.
She
inclined her head and fought back a giggle. “It is a delightful evening to be
sure.”
To think
a dashing young man was interested in her. At
one and twenty, she could not afford to lose such an opportunity and making an
effort to push his delightful image from her mind, she concentrated on the
complicated steps of the dance but to no avail. His handsome face and
intimate gaze continued to linger in her consciousness like a forbidden confection.
