Lord of Scoundrels - Loretta Chase [41]
But Dain wouldn't change his ways merely to accommodate a lot of Society prudes. He would dance as he chose, and she, delirious, could only be happy he'd chosen her.
He moved with inherent grace: strong, powerful, and utterly sure. She never had to think, only let herself be swept endlessly round the ballroom while her body tingled with consciousness of him and only him: the broad shoulder under her hand…the massive, muscular frame inches from her own…the tantalizing scent of smoke and cologne and Male…the warm hand at her waist, drawing her nearer by degrees, so that her skirts swirled round his legs…and nearer still and into a swift turn…her thigh grazing his…
She looked up into glittering, coal black eyes.
"You're not putting up much of a struggle," he said.
"As though it would do any good," she said, swallowing a sigh.
"Don't you even want to try?"
"No," she said. "And there's the hell of it."
He studied her face for a long moment. Then his mouth curved into that aggravatingly mocking smile. "I see. You find me irresistible."
"I'll get over it," she said. "I'm going home tomorrow."
His hand tightened on her waist, but he made no answer.
The music was faltering to a close. In a moment, he'd laugh and walk away, and she could return to reality…and to a life in which he couldn't, mustn't, be a part, or else she'd have no life at all.
"I'm sorry I tarnished your reputation," she said. "But I didn't do it all by myself. You could have ignored me. You certainly didn't have to come tonight. Still, all you have to do now is laugh and walk away, and they'll see I mean nothing to you, and they'll see I mean nothing to you, and they had it all wrong."
He spun her into a last, sweeping turn as the music ended, and held her one hammering moment longer than he should have. Even when he released her at last, he didn't release her altogether, but kept her hand imprisoned in his.
"And what happens, Jess," he said, his voice deepening, "if it turns out they had it right?"
The throbbing undercurrent in the low baritone made her look up again. Then she wished she hadn't, because she thought she saw turmoil in the black depths of his eyes. It must be her own turmoil reflected there, she told herself. It couldn't be his, and so there was so reason her heart should ache to ease it.
"It doesn't turn out that way," she said shakily. "You only came to make fools of them— and of me, especially. You marched in and took over and made everyone kowtow to you, like it or not. You made me dance to your tune as well."
"You seemed to like it," he said.
"That doesn't mean I like you," she said. "You had better let go of my hand before people start thinking you like me."
"I don't care what they think. Andiamo."
Her hand firmly imprisoned in his, he started walking, and she had no choice but to go with him— or be dragged along.
He was leading her to the entryway.
Jessica was looking frantically about her, debating whether it would do any good to scream for help, when a loud crash came from the cardroom. Then someone screamed and several others shouted and there were more loud crashes. And in the next instant, everyone in the ballroom was rushing toward the noise.
Everyone except Dain, who merely picked up his pace and continued toward the entrance.
"It must be a fight," she said, trying to pull her hand free. "A riot, by the sounds of it. You'll miss the fun, Dain."
He laughed and tugged her through the entryway.
Chapter 7
Dain knew the house. It had belonged to the previous Marquess of Avory, and had been the scene of more than one drunken orgy. It was promising to become one of the most notorious residences in Paris when the marquess had met his untimely death. That had been about two years ago, and the furnishings were vastly different now. Still, Dain had no trouble recognizing the small sun parlor on the ground floor whose French doors opened into the garden.
That was where he took