Jamie’s head snapped up, an alert expression on his face. Mari could have sworn his ears pricked forward like a wolf scenting a meal. Certainly, his golden eyes looked wolfish enough as he settled his gaze on her. Mari forced herself not to squirm beneath his look.
Miss Berry must have noticed, for she smiled at him. “Allow me to show you.”
Mari nearly gaped as the dance teacher put Jamie’s hand on Mari’s waist and placed her hand on his shoulder. She didn’t know which sensation was more intense—Jamie’s actual touch on a part of her anatomy which should be off-limits or the feel of the hard muscles of his chest under her palm. When Miss Berry brought their other hands together, heat rippled through her veins like dry tinder ignited.
A corner of Jamie’s mouth lifted, and he drew her fractionally closer. “I might like this dance.”
His closeness enveloped Mari like a warm cocoon, overwhelming her senses—the clean, slightly spicy scent, his eyes darkening to aged brandy, his full, sensual mouth just inches from hers and the sheer size of him towering over her. Mari hardly heard Miss Berry calling the three-quarter time, her feet simply following the boxed steps as Jamie’s shoulder flexed beneath her hand and his hand slid along her back, bringing her in close. He turned, causing her breasts to brush against his coat. Her nipples tightened, the friction of the fabric’s gown causing sensation to shoot deep to her belly. Mari’s breath hitched, her fingers crawling to touch the hair at Jamie’s neck. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sway in time to Jamie’s body… And then realized she really was swaying.
Both Jamie’s hands came to her waist, holding her upright as she opened her eyes. Had she nearly swooned? She never swooned.
Miss Berry was looking at her with a shocked expression on her face. It was then that Mari realized she had fisted Jamie’s hair in her hand and practically pushed herself against him. She felt her face flood with heat and tried to step back, but Jamie held her in place.
“Are ye all right, lass?”
“I am fine.” Goodness gracious, all she needed was Miss Berry spreading a juicyon-ditabout her rather precarious position far too close to the hard, front ridges of Jamie’s body. She would never live downtwototally improper incidents. “Please release me.” He did so immediately, as though he realized the predicament as well. Mari smoothed the sides of her gown. “I can certainly see why this dance is scandalous,” she said.
“But interesting,non?” Miss Berry replied.
Jamie grinned, his dimple showing. “Verra interesting,” he said.
Wesley pulled his coat collar up and tugged his cap down as he joined Nicholas on the park bench at Russell Square. “I do not know why you insist we meet in a public place,” he said, adjusting his fake spectacles.
“Your place is too dreary. I cannot abide such rubble.”
“Do you think I have a choice? I cannot take a chance of being caught.”
Nicholas looked around. “I doubt that any of the fair elite of Mayfair would roam all the way over here.”
“It could happen. We are not that far away from the market.” Wesley grumbled, fingering the knife he had in his right coat pocket. What he wouldn’t give to place it at Nicholas’s throat and put some fear into the cocky little bastard. Wesley itched to beat the boy bloody, but that would not gain him what he needed from the whelp. Perhaps tonight, he might pick a harlot up from the docks to satisfy his urges. Watching a woman’s eyes bulge and her face turn blue as he cut off her air while buried deep inside her always gave him a great climax. The Thames made a watery grave—not that anyone took notice of missing doxies—and he could lift her coin as well. Wesley chuckled. Yes, it was time for another evening stroll.
“What do you find so funny?” Nicholas asked.
“Nothing you would understand,” Wesley replied. “Tell me how things are proceeding.”
“Women are gullible. I have appointments to paint five of the patronesses, plus—”
“I do not give a shite about those pompous Almack’s whores. What about the Barclay bitch?”
“What aningénue.Credulous as anenfant. She fancies herself in love with me.”
“Good. What are your plans?”
“I will toy with her. It should not be hard to convince her to marry me.”
Wesley peered over the rims of his spectacles at Nicholas. “I thought you did not favor the prospect of marriage.”
Nicholas shrugged. “I do not, but then what is to stop me from taking a mistress or maybe two? I find London’shaute tondelightfully immoral in that regard. Receiving a sizable dowry plus offering to help my dear, new sister-in-law—you said her name was Jillian?—run Newburn estate would allow me to siphon money—with less risk—than an abduction and one-time ransom.”
“I am beginning to think you are a worthy son after all,” Wesley said. “How long do you think this will take? I would like to get across the channel as soon as possible.”
Frowning, Nicholas cursed. “The damn Highlander sticks to the chit’s skirts like a starving mongrel. Every time I get near her, he is there.”
“Then perhaps he needs to meet with an untimely end.”
“You want me to challenge him to a duel? I would have to have a reason—”
Wesley shook his head. “Why dirty your hands? If there is any advantage to my squalid living conditions, it is knowing the area is rife with desperate men willing to do anything—anything—for a gold coin or two. Just let me know when and where.”
Nicholas smiled, his eyes cold—and then he nodded.
