Invitation to Ruin (11 page)

He leaned nearer, the tantalizing scent of expensive cologne mixed with raw maleness made her dizzy, and as he placed his large hand at her back, guiding her toward a chaise upon which Lady Millington sat, she wondered if tonight would be the night she’d finally swoon.

“Remember my warning. I trust you will conduct yourself appropriately. You are to be my wife.”

The sudden bolt of awareness flashing down her side—the side he’d touched—had nothing to do with the anger his harsh warning provoked. She could sense him, hard, strong, and very male, a potent living force beside her.

His nearness was pure pleasure. She glanced at his face, but he’d already turned to see to Cassandra.

He must have felt her gaze though, because his eyes swung
back to her. He saw her studying him intently, and his gaze grew direct; his eyes searched hers.

Her lungs seized.

The introduction for the first waltz cut through the hypnotic moment. She heard Cassandra stir.
Please do not disgrace me by dancing the first dance with Cassandra
.

His eyes still held hers, and perhaps he read the desperation there. His fingers closed about her hand, and he lifted it fleetingly to his lips. He then elegantly bowed, his eyes never leaving hers. “My dance, I believe?”

She let out a huge breath, gratitude beaming from within her smile. At that precise moment he truly was the most wonderful man in the world, her knight in shining armor. She inclined her head and let him draw her to the floor.

Her body responded as soon as he gathered her close and steered her into the swirling throng. Her chest felt tight, and her skin came alive. She became a young giddy schoolgirl, taut with anticipation, expectations. This man would soon be her husband. She remembered his naked body lying next to her, and her gaze dropped to his groin.

Even in his nonaroused state he was large; she could see the bulge quite clearly. A sweet tremble filled her being. What would it be like to have him make love to her properly, to feel those large hands caress her naked skin?

She swallowed. This man wasn’t going to stay her imaginary lover. He would become her husband. Since their last dance together, everything had changed. The planes of his face seemed harder, more chiseled, more austere. His body seemed more powerful, and there was something in his eyes as they rested on hers—something … was it regret? Whatever it was, her instincts recognized enough to make her shiver—either in fear or anticipation, she wasn’t sure which.

Without thinking she uttered, “How did you get your scar?”

His countenance changed immediately. She could feel his muscles tighten beneath her hands, and he almost led them straight into the path of another couple.

“Is that why you did not wish to marry me? You find my face repulsive?” His words were uttered harshly, and her face heated in mortification. She had offended him.

She made sure she looked him straight in the eye. “I find the scar interesting. It gives your face character.” She paused, not sure if she should utter what she really thought, but given his reaction she decided she owed it to him. “Besides, you would be too extraordinarily handsome without some slight imperfection. It makes you look more human and less godly. “

Typical man. He was trying to stop the smile hinting at the edges of his lips. “I’m no saint, and my behavior is far from that of the Lord Almighty.”

She blushed. “No. I meant like a Greek or Roman god.”

She saw he was pleased with her compliment.

“And which god do you believe I take after?” Now he was teasing her.

“When you are trying to be dark and mysterious, then I believe Aries, God of War. When you smile I think of you as Apollo, the God of Healing.”

His brow creased and his smile vanished. “Healing? Ironic really, for if anyone needs healing it is me.”

“How so?”

He straightened and pulled her closer. He seemed to realize he’d said too much. “Never mind.” He changed the topic. “I have made the wedding arrangements. Mother is organizing the event. We will hold the ceremony and wedding breakfast at Craven House. I hope that will be suitable?”

She wondered if he had deliberately changed the topic so as to avoid answering her question. She decided not to push the subject in full view of the gossiping
ton
. But later when they were alone she would press for her answer. How had he got the scar, and why did he need healing?

   A god, she thought he looked like a god. His male ego could not help but be puffed up. His betrothed was unique, he would give her that. She did not simper and praise him
with false flattery; she told him straight, in a frank and totally forthright manner.

He pulled her closer than was respectable in this company because he had a sudden craving to feel her softness. He wanted to lose himself in her scent and beauty, so as to block out the degrading memories her question invoked.

He should have been prepared for her query about his scar, but no one had ever dared ask him before. Of course his wife would likely want to know. He would think of some suitable reply, perhaps a fall from a horse. There was no way he was telling her the truth. He did not want her pity. He did not want her to glimpse the man he kept hidden from the world.

He became so engrossed in thought, he did not notice how crowded the floor had become. He had to suddenly guide her expertly through a knot of dancers, which proved a tight squeeze. For a brief moment they came together so that he felt her ample bosom and erect nipples against his chest. His body tightened with want. A shiver of raw sensation ripped through his groin.

He heard her soft gasp, and he drew back to survey her face. Was it a gasp of shock or pleasure? He shook his head. Why should he care? He did not want her in his bed.

So quietly he almost did not hear it she whispered, “Thank you for dancing with me first.”

He flashed a charming smile. “I do not plan to feed the flames of the gossips. I will not dance with your cousin at all tonight. I see my friend Lord Strathmore across the way. I shall accompany him into the gaming room until you wish to leave.”

Melissa glanced over her shoulder, and he watched her give Rufus a thorough inspection before turning back to give him a grateful smile. His stomach twisted. She no doubt found his friend handsome; most women did. Rufus never had trouble finding a bedmate. Anthony tried to dampen down the jealousy that arose with his thoughts. Worse, he did not seem to care that Rufus was staring down Cassandra’s
bodice or that Rufus was signaling his interest with his eyes. Anthony realized he didn’t care if Rufus took Cassandra to his bed. All he could think about was that Rufus was not focused on his fiancée.

All his instincts shouted that this marriage was a mistake. Anthony felt a muscle flex in his jaw. He had never been jealous of a woman in his life. Melissa was bewitching him.

When he looked into her eyes, he could not tear his gaze away. Her eyes seemed to be able to look into his very soul and see the man he truly was. Which was probably why she did not wish to marry him and why he should flee while he still could.

She was smiling in happiness at him now, or was it a show for their audience? When she smiled her lips became so inviting he had to battle the urge to crush his mouth to hers.

Anthony felt a twinge of disappointment as the music came to an end. He would miss the sultry feel of her in his arms.

She said, “I see my friend Lady Albany has arrived. I shall join her after you have introduced me to your friend.”

He became instantly on guard. “Why do you wish to meet my friend?”

Her nose turned up as she frowned, a look of puzzlement on her face. Her hand rose, and she opened her palm in a helpless gesture. “Because he is your friend. As your wife I should be aware of your acquaintances. Or are you ashamed of me?”

“Of course not. What man would be ashamed of a beautiful woman on his arm?” He held himself stiffly as he gave her his arm. “I thought it might be because he was a handsome man. You wouldn’t be the first lady desirous of an introduction.”

She sighed. “He is only handsome in a pretty sort of way. I like my men dark and mysterious, preferably with a scar.” Although amusement tinged her voice, it was said with a modicum of truth, and his heart thrilled at her words.

For a moment he dropped his guard. He let his happiness
at her words show in his smile. Anyone watching would believe the two were madly in love. “Come then. Let me introduce you to the most renowned rake in all of London.”

“You mean other than you.”

He laughed and steered her toward Rufus at the far side of the room, where he was blatantly seducing her cousin. As they drew near, Anthony cleared his throat and Rufus swung around to greet them. His friend’s smile died on his lips, and he saw Rufus’s eyes widen and then fill with obvious appreciation of the woman on his arm.

“A man should not be so spoilt as to meet two such beauties in one night,” he gushed as he took Melissa’s hand and kissed her glove.

Anthony’s hands began to itch. If Rufus did not drop her hand soon, he might just ensure Rufus’s face was not quite so pretty.

Rufus broke into an amused smile, recognition of Anthony’s thoughts clearly visible in his eyes.

“Lord Strathmore, I have the pleasure of introducing my fiancée, Miss Melissa Goodly.”

Still holding her hand, Rufus said, “You are indeed a lucky man, Anthony. She is very beautiful.”

Melissa blushed under his words while Lady Cassandra humphed. “Thank you, my lord,” and she curtsied.

“Call me Rufus. May I have the pleasure of a dance later?”

She saw Anthony’s frown. So she gave Lord Strathmore a devastating smile and uttered, “It would be my pleasure.”

Lord Strathmore once again placed a kiss on her fingers.

Anthony cleared his throat. “I thought we’d leave the ladies to it and take a turn in the gaming room. I have some news about the matter we discussed recently.”

Rufus’s carefree disposition changed at his words. Turning to the ladies, he bowed and said, “Until our dances, ladies.”

Anthony said to Melissa, “I shall look for you later in the evening when it’s time to leave. If you wish to leave earlier, simply come and find me.”

As the two men walked away, Rufus said, “You’re a lucky man. She’s beautiful and already a little in love with you.”

Anthony laughed. “How on earth can you tell that from such a brief meeting?”

Rufus smiled. “Her fingers did not tremble when I kissed them. My charm did not work on her. She had eyes only for you.”

“How did you get so vain?” But Anthony was secretly pleased at his words. Rufus was right. Most women couldn’t resist his friend. For instance if she could, Lady Cassandra Sudbury would bed both of them. The fact Melissa wanted only him warmed his heart.

A cold chill quickly followed his thoughts—heart. He scoffed to himself, not likely, he didn’t have one.

   As soon as the men left, Melissa turned to scan the crowd. Where was Richard Craven? She couldn’t see him anywhere, and she was just about to give up her search—he was probably in the gaming room with the other sought-after bachelors—when she spied him standing over by the open doors to the terrace.

He was conversing, in a very intimate manner, with Lady Spencer. Melissa began to move toward the couple, but it was a slow process with so many people stopping to wish her congratulations on her upcoming nuptials.

By the time she made it across the crowded floor, she saw him disappear out the door to the terrace, Lady Spencer in tow.

Blast, this might be the only chance she got to speak with him alone before the wedding. Looking quickly around her, she noted that for once she had nobody’s attention. She quietly slipped out the door after them.

The rush of fragrant evening air was exhilarating. Melissa made her way down the short flight of stairs from the terrace onto the gravel path.

She’d spotted Richard leading Lady Spencer toward the garden, and she hesitated to follow. Descending into the garden
could mean only one thing. Yet if she did not speak to him tonight, she mightn’t get another chance before the wedding.

She picked up her pace and rounded the bend in the path, hearing a woman’s soft voice and careening sighs. Goodness, Melissa’s face heated. She had a fair idea of what Richard was up to with the young widow. She moved forward, hoping she’d interrupt before they became too amorous.

She drew near, just in time to see Richard expertly free Lady Spencer’s breasts and lower his head to take her nipple in his mouth.

She shrugged off a shiver of annoyance at being put in this situation. Melissa coughed loudly. A man with his mouth on a woman’s breast was not about to deter her from getting the answers she required.

But Lady Spencer’s moans drowned out her approach. She moved closer and in a firm, strong voice called, “Excuse me, I would like a word with you, Mr. Craven.”

Melissa heard Lady Spencer’s shocked gasp as her hands flew to her bodice to try to cover herself. Richard did not even stand up. He merely lifted his mouth from her breast and, turning his head, gave a cool glance and said, “Very bad timing, Miss Goodly.”

“Just returning the favor, Mr. Craven.”

He stood up, his mouth relaxing into a wicked smile. “Touché.” He gave a small bow.

“I have been trying to have a word with you all evening.”

He helped lace Lady Spencer back into her dress. “I have rather had my hands full.”

“So I can see. I am sure Lady Spencer will excuse us. I’d like to discuss a private family matter with you.”

He bent and whispered something in Lady Spencer’s ear, which resulted in a lot of giggling but which thankfully saw Lady Spencer, after throwing a sullen look at Melissa, trot back along the path toward the ballroom.

“I am ready for my ribbing, Miss Goodly. Have you come to box my ears?”

“If I wanted to box something, it would not be your ears,” she growled at him. “No, what has occurred cannot be changed no matter how much I wish it. Hurting you would still find me betrothed to your brother.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Then what is it you want from me, Miss Goodly?”