A Dangerous Man (9 page)

"Are you unwell? You do look a trifle peaked"

"Not at all." She forced a bright smile. "I simply feel the
need for a breath of air. Truly. That is all."

"These events can be tediously overwhelming," he said as
he steered her toward the French windows, through which she
could see a terrace lit by brightly colored lanterns. "But never
fear. You will get used to it. Shall I fetch you a lemonade?"

Leah nodded. She searched for a glimpse of Richard through
the blur of unfamiliar faces. Her smile never faltered, but a
heavy ache settled in her chest as she found him, still conversing with Lady Montague. She would not have to worry about
getting used to these tedious events.

After tonight, she would not be here.

With practiced ease, Richard assumed a casual indifference
to his stance that belied the rage seething inside him. He
waited for Geoffrey to lead Leah far enough away so as not
to overhear this conversation. He might not have wanted to marry Leah, but that no longer signified. She was his wife,
and he'd be damned if he let anyone treat her with disrespect.

He had not even seen the danger approaching. One moment
he was drowning in clear green eyes sprinkled with gold dust,
lost in the fantasy of sweeping Leah into his arms and dragging
her to bed. The next, Lady Margaret Montague was sliding her
fan along his arm. Were Margaret any one of the other guests,
Richard might even have felt grateful for the interruption,
which allowed reason and sanity to restore his mind, if not
his body.

Before disappearing into the crowd, Leah cast one last
glance at the woman edging closer to Richard's side. Her expressive eyes narrowed slightly, her brows drawn together, not
in anger, but more a puzzled bewilderment.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded of Margaret,
keeping his voice low, his features calm and controlled.

The lovely widow lowered her chin toward her shoulder.
She titled her lips in the merest hint of a smile, a pose meant
to allure and intrigue him. "Dance with me, darling."

"Do not toy with me, Margaret" Richard plucked a glass
of champagne from the tray of a passing servant. "I thought
you understood discretion, yet you flaunt yourself before my
wife? Touching my arm? Murmuring throatily? Were I a different, less honorable man, I would be tempted to throttle
you"

She fluttered her fan, then drew it down her neck, an obvious ploy to drag his gaze to her overripe breasts barely concealed by the outrageously low neckline of her dress. "I am
sorry, Richard, truly, I am. It is just that I miss you"

He watched her hazel eyes fill with tears, and he gave an
exasperated sigh. Over the month of their association, he had
learned what a talented actress she could be when it suited her
needs. Obviously now, it suited her needs.

But to what purpose? After all, he had broken off their
arrangement. "I never made you any promises. Nor you, me. Ours was an affair of convenience, a fact to which we both
agreed when you first invited me into your bed. Not to mention, the discretion" Upon which he had insisted.

Though Margaret, as a widow, possessed more freedom
to take lovers as she saw fit, Richard had suffered a strong
aversion to finding himself suddenly trapped into marriage.

Such brutal irony. If Margaret only knew.

The tears disappeared as quickly as they arrived. "You said
you would never marry anyone, yet you show up tonight with
a wife on your arm. What happened, Richard? Get caught
with your breeches 'round your knees?"

His hand tightened on his glass until he thought it might
shatter. "Let me make something perfectly clear, Margaret. I
expect you treat my wife with all due respect"

Her sudden loss of color showed she did not mistake the
cold menace in his tone. As he swallowed the last of his
champagne, he cursed his own stupidity. Given the haste of
his marriage, he had known gossip would run rampant. Now
it appeared speculation would run from the merely tawdry to
the viciously depraved.

He would have to play the besotted fool.

Having seen Leah's earthy beauty, the wolves of the ton
would have no difficulty believing Richard's lust had overcome his reason. As he searched for sight of her yet again
through the crowd, as the heat of desire surged through his
veins, he stifled a disgusted sigh. He was doing well enough
with that plan already-and he wasn't even trying.

"You are despicable. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do" More so lately than usual, he thought. Ever
since he had met Leah, his behavior seemed better suited to a
dastardly rogue than a finely bred English gentleman.

"I will try to forgive you," Margaret said, fluttering her
lashes. She dropped her voice to a sultry whisper. "And if you
come to me tonight, I'll endeavor to keep you amused"

And he knew from experience that she could. But to his surprise, he wasn't even tempted. "Do not waste your tricks
on me. Save them for your next conquest"

"There won't be a `next conquest.' You're all I want, all
I need. Your marriage needn't make any difference to you
and me."

"You sell yourself short, madam. You should cast your
lures about you for a husband"

I did cast my lures ... toward you. But it seems I didn't
have the proper bait. Oh, for heaven's sake," Margaret said,
waving her fan before her face. "Do not glare at me. I admit
it. I knew you did not want to marry me. I wanted you then.
I still want you now. I see no reason we cannot continue as we
were"

He searched the room for Leah. She was walking beside
Geoffrey, laughing at something he said, and the beauty of
her smile, so unaffected and pure, called to him like a siren's
song. Bewitching, beguiling ... dangerous. "No, it is over."

"Who is she?" Margaret asked, dragging Richard's gaze
from his wife. "Where did you meet? How long have you
known her?"

"Why could you possibly want to know?"

"Curiosity? Jealousy? I imagine any woman would want to
know about her replacement. You owe me that much, at least."

"No, I do not. We agreed" Margaret was a problem that
could wait for tomorrow. Tonight, he had much more pressing issues with which to contend. Such as what to do with his
lovely bride. He passed his glass off to a servant. "I bid you
adieu. I must find my wife."

"You do that," Margaret snarled as he walked away. "But
you will come back to me, Richard. I promise you that"

Any hope Leah had harbored for a moment of privacy
while Geoffrey fetched her lemonade disappeared as soon as
she stepped onto the terrace and saw the shape of a man lurk ing in the shadows. The torches reflecting off the tawny gold
in his hair were too far away to reveal his face.

She glanced around the promenade. It was deserted. The
gardens beyond covered in darkness. Before she could turn
and run for the house, a rose-scented breeze swept up. The
clouds pushed away from the moon. Hazy light spilled over
the terrace.

"Alexander?" She reached behind her, needing the solid
support of the balustrade to steady her knees. "Is that you?"

He nodded, as if he didn't trust himself to speak.

A shiver ran over her skin. She was so cold, deep inside,
but not from the breeze. She knew she should speak, but she
could not find any words. His features were tight. White lines
digging into his brow and around his mouth ravaged his flawless skin. His sunny blue eyes were wide and brimming with
the pain of betrayal. She had thought only her heart was in
danger from her father's perfidy. Had Alex loved her after all?

"I returned mere moments ago," he finally said as he approached her, his movements stiff, tightly controlled. "I went
to your father's house straightaway. He told me something I
can scarcely credit. Is it true? Have you married him?"

Her heart wrenched so painfully, she was surprised it still
beat, surprised her breath still moved in and out of her tightly
clenched throat. She did not want to add to his pain, but he
deserved the truth from her lips, rather than the lies her father
would tell him. "Yes, I am married."

"I will kill him," he growled, turning for the house.

Leah grabbed his arms. "Alex, do not be a fool."

"Is that what I am to you?" He stared at her through wide
eyes, his face ghostly white in the pale moonlight. "A fool?"

"Oh, that is not what I meant, and you know it," she cried,
turning toward the balustrade. She gripped the wall until she
could feel the cold from the stone seeping through her gloves.
She would not weep. She would not add the burden of her tears to his pain. He walked up behind her, so close she could
feel the warmth of his breath sweeping the back of her neck.

"What happened, Leah? Tell me."

His voice was so soft, so gentle, urging her to share her
worries and fears, but she could not. It was too late for him to
help her now. The truth would only hurt him more.

Besides, if Richard agreed to her plans, her reputation
would be ruined, tainting any and all who sought her acquaintance, even through friendship. "There is not much to tell. My
father made all the arrangements. I found myself betrothed
and married so quickly my head is still spinning."

"And you ... agreed?" He stumbled over the words. He
grabbed her arms, spun her around. His grip hurt, but she bit
back her cry, which would only bring the gossiping hordes
down upon them.

She pushed her fists against his chest until he lifted his
hands and backed away. "My father was pleased with the
match"

"And you? Were you pleased with the match?"

"What choice did I have?" Leah cried, choking on the
words. "A daughter's duty is to do her father's bidding."

"That is not what I asked you. Did you want to marry
him?"

I don't even know him-"

"That is not what I asked"

"You do not understand."

"You wanted to marry him, didn't you?" His chest heaved
as he sucked in his breath. His gaze raked over her face. "Did
you never love me, then? Was your tender regard a lark to
keep me dangling on a string, waiting for a better catch to
come along? A mere baronet's son wasn't good enough for
you? You needed a title I couldn't give you?" He glared at her
in cold, hard contempt. "What? No response?"

Leah knew his words sprang from his pain, but they cut
like a dagger thrust deep in her heart. "I never kept you dan gling on a string. Until this moment, I did not know you cared
for me as anything more than a sister. You have ever been
my dearest friend, Alex. For you to accuse me thus is cruel."

"Cruel?" he sneered, rocking back on his heels. "I'll tell
you what is cruel. To discover the woman you've loved your
entire life is nothing more than a lie, that is cruel! To discover
her sweet smile and tender words were a facade to hide a calculating bitch, that is cruel!"

She did not speak. There were no words to say. She looked
out over the gardens, at the shadowy plants, indistinct in the
darkness. She gripped the balustrade, thankful for the solid
support to steady her knees as she listened to the steady
breeze rustling through the potted plants on the terrace.

A sudden burst of laughter drew her attention to the house,
to the man standing before her, glaring at her as if she were
Medusa, with serpents slithering out of her hair.

Her chest ached and her throat burned. She drew a ragged
breath. "As you have ever been my dearest friend, I forgive
you your harsh words. Now, I think you should leave, before
we hurt each other more"

A long, tense moment passed before he spun on his heels
and disappeared into the night. She closed her eyes, rubbed
her forefingers over her brow. She couldn't remember a time
when they had not been friends, introduced by their mothers
when they were just small through a never-ending round of
social calls. Even after her mother had died, and in the face
of her father's growing animosity, his quiet support had never
wavered.

Now, he hated her. She wanted to cry. She wanted to drop
to the floor and weep like a babe, but her tears were locked
up inside her, where they would remain.

The night sky stretched out before her, the stars barely visible in the midnight tapestry. All Leah could see was the fathomless depths of Richard's eyes, their smoky darkness haunting her
now, even as they would haunt her forever.

Would he agree to her plan? Why would he not? It was not
as if he had wanted to marry her. No, she had her father's
treachery to thank for the agony about to befall her, and for
the lines of misery now etched into Alexander's face.

"Leah, are you out here?" Lord Geoffrey trotted through
the door, two glasses clutched in his hands. His smile was the
easy, unaffected grin of a perfectly charming man and Leah
couldn't help but like him. "I've brought your lemonade."

She laced her hands together at her waist before he drew
near enough to notice their trembling. She even managed to
smile, and then to laugh at his playful bantering, as if she were
happy, as if her heart weren't breaking, as if her dearest friend
did not hate her, as if the man she loved were not, at this
moment, in the ballroom conversing with another woman, as
if she were not about to set him free.

Richard found her on the terrace, her wispy golden hair
shimmering in the torchlight, framed against the midnight
sky, his brother standing at her side.

She tilted her face into the rose-scented breeze and closed
her eyes. A mysterious smile touched her lips, as if she were
lost in a pleasant dream-or planning her escape.

Geoffrey murmured something near her ear, and she laughed.

It was a simple sound that seemed to float above the musical notes sweeping out of the ballroom until it wrapped
around Richard, until he didn't know whether it was guilt or
need clenching his gut. He had made her shiver in fear, and
then in desire, but he had never made her laugh.