Surrender: A Little Harmless Military Romance (15 page)

It was Blackburn’s fault. His attractiveness did not come from a trained valet who knew how to dress his employer. He possessed the most remarkable gray-blue eyes and blacker than midnight hair—worn unfashionably long. He was put together well, solid. She could feel his muscles flex as he guided her through the waltz, maneuvering around couples with ease.

His attractiveness turned heads, but there was more to it than that. It was the strength she sensed beneath the surface of the polished veneer. Something about him, dangerous and male, seethed just beneath his polite façade. It almost made her giddy to be this close to him.

“Lady Cordelia?”

She blinked. “Yes? Oh, you had advice.”

“You should stay away from the Viscount.”

She nodded at his comment. No, not truly a comment. A command. She didn’t know Blackburn, knew nothing of his family—and he only could know of the gossip surrounding hers. But, for some unknown reason he felt the need to tell her what to do. Of all the cheek!

“Whatever to do you mean?”

His eyes flashed with irritation as they narrowed. “I mean the man is trouble. I fear that he is after but one thing in his pursuit of you.”

Where was the tact Blackburn was famous for? Everyone in the ton knew her situation, or thought they knew. It was much worse than she let people know, otherwise she would never be invited to these functions. And while everyone attending knew that her brother was drinking away her inheritance, none of them knew she was so close to living on the street.

People may gossip about her, but they did not do it in front of her. Did Blackburn realize he insulted her? Looking at his serious expression, she thought not. The man actually thought he was helping.

She adopted her most innocent look. “What would that be Mr. Blackburn?”

His expression blanked as he studied her. “I beg your pardon. I was led to believe you were somewhat of a...”

“What, sir?”

Oh, he did not like being put in the corner, but she was happy to shove the man there. The gall of him to insult her so. Granted, she was positive Hurst was after her for the reason Blackburn implied. Though, even that was odd because the viscount could have his choice of most women of the ton—married and unmarried. Why he would want the Lady Fionna's bastard daughter who had no dowry and penchant for books? His pursuit made little sense. But, most men of the ton had little sense.

With an aggravated sigh, he maneuvered them through the French doors out onto the patio. Light from the ballroom spilled out over them as the cool night air hit her skin, cooling her anger and desire.

Blackburn hesitated, then released her. The dark night surrounded them, the tension in the air rising. She walked away from him, to the edge of the terrace. “Whyever are we out here?”

When he did not answer, she turned to face him. He placed a hand on each of his hips and frowned at her. Again. “Stop playing the simpleton.”

She blinked. “Playing?”

“Lord Hurst is not a well man.”

That was not what she expected to hear. She dropped all pretense. “Not well?”

He hesitated then said, “There have been rumors about him.”

“Indeed. There are rumors about almost every eligible man here tonight, including yourself.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. “He has certain...tastes that would shock you.”

“Do you mean he frequents the House of Rod?”

That had his eyebrows rising. “You know of that?”

“Why do you think I accepted your dance? I didn't have to. After eight years in the ton, I am well aware of how men behave. I know there is something wrong with the viscount.”

His gaze sharpened. “You do?”

His intense study suddenly made her very wary. It was if she were a specimen he was trying to decipher. Blackburn’s attention filled her with an unusual flash of warmth.

“Y-yes. He...well, he acting just a bit strange.” She could not come up with another way to describe it.

“Strange?”

She nodded. “Quite.”

He sighed. “Well, thank goodness you have some sense. Most women swoon over him.”

“Yes, but as you said, he isn't after my hand in marriage. Many ladies have set their cap for him.
I
am not one of them.”

“Indeed. I do apologize for my insensitivity.”

She waved it away. “You are not the first, and you will not be the last.”

With a smile, he offered her his arm. “If you would allow me to walk you back into the ballroom?”

“Before you do, could you answer one question?”

He dropped his arm as his brow furrowed. “That depends.”

“I understand you are in the shipping business.”

“Yes.”

She bit back an irritated sigh. He was not going to make this an easy task. “There have been some questions about the nature of the shipments.”

His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing again as he studied her. As his gaze moved over her face, but she did not allow her own to waver. Breath clogged her throat; her pulse doubled.

“I import many things, Lady Cordelia.” She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Blackburn took another step closer. He towered over her, but she did not feel threatened as when other men did it. She felt…hot. Her whole body shimmered with heat.

“My company is known for its fine silks. I understand they are in demand by many ladies. Have you ever felt truly fine silk?”

She could not answer. His voice had dipped lower, caressing her like the fine silk he spoke of. Cordelia knew she should step back, but she could not make her feet move. He inched closer, his legs now brushing the front of her dress.

When she did not answer, Blackburn continued, leaning down to place his hand on the stone wall behind her. He was now much closer than propriety allowed, and her heart threatened to beat from her chest.

“Fine silk slides against flesh,” he murmured.

His breath heated her earlobe. Cordelia pulled in a deep breath trying to regain her wits. But her breasts brushed against his chest and tingles shot through her body like shooting stars.

She shook her head. Other questions swirled in her brain, and she knew that Blackburn was trying to divert her attention. Her body did not care. Need coursed through her veins, urging her to move closer, into Blackburn’s heat.

At that moment, a group of younger people came out laughing and talking, their excitement of the season easily heard in their voices. Blackburn’s head whipped around, and a growl rumbled in his chest. For a moment, she thought he might attack them.

“Mr. Blackburn.”

She whispered the words as not to gain the others attention. He hesitated, then looked down her. Fierce hunger darkened his eyes. Cordelia was not sure he even heard her, but a moment later, his expression blanked, the harsh lines of his face smoothing. He drew in a deep breath, then stepped back, the cool night air replacing his heat. She shivered as goose bumps rose over her flesh. Cordelia should be thankful he had pulled back in time. With her background, she had to be careful. There was always a chance that she would step over the line. And at that point, her invitations would stop and she needed them to earn money.

He offered her arm once again. “May I escort you back to the ballroom, Lady Cordelia?” He pitched his voice just loud enough for the group to hear.

She nodded, laying her hand on his arm. “I do thank you sir for your help. Hurst is a nuisance and I could have deflected him. Your help just made it much easier.”

He guided her over to a group of matrons. “I trust you will be able to avoid him in the future.”

It was not a question, but an order. Odd, because, before tonight, she had barely spoken to him. She sent him a sharp stare to tell them man he had overstepped his bounds. Little shock that he ignored her.

Instead, he bowed and, loud enough for a group of nearby matrons to hear, he said, “Thank you for the dance, Lady Cordelia.”

She had been in his company for the last five minutes and had yet to ask him more than one question about his finances. As she stared at him, that eyebrow of his rose again. Mr. Blackburn knew she had questions for him…which was why he had avoided her for days. Now that he was dumping her with the matrons, she had no way of asking them. She was stuck—and he knew it.

She offered him a smile she reserved for the most vapid of young misses. “You are most welcome, Mr. Blackburn.”

His lips twitched as if he repressed a smile. After a nod to the matrons—watching the whole scene as if they were at the theater—he turned and walked away.

And Cordelia cursed herself again. She still didn’t know if the man earned his money legally or not. She thought back to the dance, the way his body pressed against hers, the heat she saw in his eyes and sighed. She had to learn how to keep her wits about her the next time she encountered Mr. Blackburn.

Her livelihood depended on it.

* * * *

“You look ready to faint, Blackburn,” Grayson, Duke of Nothingham said, amusement threading his voice. “Done in by a little mouse of a woman?”

Nico threw him what he hoped was a nasty look and grabbed a drink as a waiter passed by him. Bloody hell, his hand was shaking. “You are treading on thin ice.”

“I've never known Lady Cordelia to have this affect on anyone but Hurst, and seriously, I cannot understand why he is interested.”

Without knowing or caring what the drink was, Nico tossed back the contents in one huge gulp, wincing as the warm lemonade slid down his throat. God, he needed to get out of there, find a woman. The moment he thought it, he caught sight of Lady Cordelia. His body responded as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“So, tell me, how did Lady Cordelia ensnare you? Was it her modest gown, or her discussion on anything political?”

How could he explain it? Not once in society had he come so close to losing control. How could one petite, blue-eyed miss have brought him so close to the edge? Even now he had to grind his teeth together to keep his incisors from descending. He had been moments from taking her, and she would not have resisted. It was in her makeup to respond to him—even if she did not understand. His plan to divert her attention had gone horribly awry. Even now, he could remember the feel of her hardened nipples as they lightly brushed his chest.

Damn! He pulled his attention away from Lady Cordelia and back to Gray who was now studying Nico with enjoyment.

“She's a Carrier.”

Gray's face lost all emotion, his body turning to stone. “You must be mistaken. I know every Born in the ton. She is not one.”

Nico glanced around looking to see if anyone had overheard and realized that the only attention they had were from eligible young women across the floor. With a sigh, he motioned with his head and turned, not even waiting to see if Gray followed. Nico knew the duke would. He found the library easily, and was relieved to discover it empty. Gray shut the door quietly and leaned against it.

“Do you really think she is a Carrier?”

“I don't think. I know. At age five hundred, I think I know the difference between a Carrier and a normal human female.”

“She is not descended from any line I know. Her mother was married to the Earl of Collingsworth.”

“He must not have been her birth father.”

The look of comprehension slid over Gray's face. “Of course. Only the oldest is his, the son. The daughters were said to have different fathers, all four.”

“Yes, and the youngest, Cordelia, is treated as an outcast by the others.”

Gray sneered. “That brother of hers is a bastard. Owes everyone in town, which is why he isn't here.”

“You mean she is in town alone?”

Gray crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Indeed. I think she stays in the family townhouse, but with little staff. Truthfully, I have no idea how she affords it. Her father...Collingsworth left her barely anything to live on from what I heard.”

“And there is no rumor of impropriety. She has no protector?”

“Not that I know of. And I assure you, with the notorious Lady Fionna as her mother, if there was a hint of scandal, it would be all over the ton.”

Nico shoved that aside and moved back the subject on hand. “Regardless, she is a Carrier.”

“Again, I point out that my family has kept track of all the noble families. She isn’t on that list and neither is Lady Fionna.”

Irritation turned Nico’s voice sharp. “Think. When the church attacked us during the Inquisition, many families hid. We scattered to the winds, and I am positive we have yet to find everyone. There are probably several dozen Carriers in the ton and they have no idea…why would they unless they have mated with a Born? “

He had known about Lady Cordelia for days. Something about their first meeting, the way his body had reacted, had told him she was not just a simple bluestocking. He had immediately responded to her, despite the fact she was not his type of woman. He usually liked females tall, lithe and definitely experienced. Cordelia had none of these attributes, but she was a Carrier. So he was predisposed to respond to her.