Page 25 of The Dangerous Lord

“Because holding you at arm’s length wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable.” He coupled his comment with a smile so wicked it made her heart stop.

She trod purposely on his foot, but dancing slippers were no match for a man’s Hessians. “Lord St. Clair⁠—”

“Call me Ian.” An edge entered his voice. “I see no reason we should stand on ceremony after all that you know about me.”

“Now see here, I know you’re angry with me about Katherine’s elopement⁠—”

“I’m not, but I have every right to be. You wrote publicly of matters that weren’t your concern. You asked my friends about my private affairs.” She missed a step, but he jerked her back into step unceremoniously and danced on. “And you don’t even have the decency to feel remorse for what you’ve done.”

“Because I did nothing wrong!”

“Really?” They whirled into candlelight that highlighted his taunting smile. “Then you won’t mind having the situation reversed.”

An uneasy foreboding made her stomach lurch. “What do you mean?”

He bent his head close enough for his lips to brush her ear. “Have you ever been gossiped about, Felicity?”

She froze in his arms. Good Lord. That’s why he’d asked her to dance. She’d been so engrossed in not stumbling all over her feet that she hadn’t cared how closely he held her. Until it was too late.

Glancing around, she noticed for the first time the whispers and looks of interest from the dancers closest to them. No one ever danced the waltz so closely unless they were courting ... or worse.

“Why, you heartless, contemptuous⁠—”

“Careful, my dear,” he whispered smugly, “someone might overhear you. And what would they think?”

“That you’re rude and unconscionably bad-mannered!”

“Or that you’ve drunk too much wine, which is why you’re allowing me such liberties. Or you’re eager to take the place of my supposed mistress. Or any number of unsavory assumptions based on nothing more than my holding you too closely.”

Drat him for being the most logical, devious creature in breeches! “All right,” she grumbled after they’d taken another turn. “You’ve made your point. Now let me go!”

“Oh, I haven’t even begun to make my point,” he murmured in a voice as silky as it was menacing.

Her thundering heart drowned out the ebbing music. He held her trapped in his arms more effectively than any truss. To escape him, she’d have to make a scene that half the ballroom would notice, which would only prove his point. Yes, he would enjoy watching her embarrass herself before so many important people, wouldn’t he?

But what did he mean, I haven’t even begun to make my point? With the next turn, they reached the edge of the crowd, and suddenly she knew. Panic ripped through her as she realized they danced toward the closed French doors leading onto the balcony.

“No,” she whispered, vainly trying to halt their forward movement. But she might as well have been pushing against a mill wheel. Like the mighty river that powered it, he moved inexorably, taking her with him. Willing or no.

Two more deft turns and they were at the doors. He released her hand only long enough to open one.

“I won’t go out there with you alone!” she hissed, but he shoved her through the door and onto the balcony as if she were no more than a rag doll.

Yanking her hand free, she whirled and headed back toward the ballroom. With alarming speed, he stepped between her and escape, shutting the glass door with a click.

Her breath came in puffs of frost, and she shivered. “You can’t mean to keep me out here. It’s freezing, for God’s sake.”

“Take my coat—” he began as he reached for the buttons.

“Don’t you dare!” That was the last thing she wanted, the Viscount St. Clair disrobing in such a private setting.

His unrepentant grin reminded her of her brothers when they were up to mischief. “I’m merely trying to be a gentleman.”

“And failing miserably.” She tried to peer over his shoulder into the ballroom to see if anyone had noticed their retreat, but his great height blocked her view. Then she cast a furtive glance around the balcony. Thankfully they were alone. “All right, you have me out here. What do you want from me?”

“That’s simple. I want you to see what it’s like to have your pristine reputation soiled by the unjust ‘speculations’ of gossiping females.” His grin faded abruptly. “Turnabout is fair play, Felicity.”

Why, of all the shameless, obnoxious— “Fair? You don’t know the meaning of the word! My pristine reputation was achieved by pristine living, and I’m sure you can’t say the same for yourself! If you don’t like your reputation, don’t blame me! I was not the one who made it so, you ... you philandering oaf!”