Page 51 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

Jane found it impossible for even a second not to be aware of him, and having him hover over her hardly eased her anxiety. She felt as if she were accompanied by a big golden lion that might turn feral at any moment. Who knew what he really thought of all this? Those heavy-lidded blue eyes gave nothing away, and the nagging feeling that she would pay dearly for deceiving him persisted.

He danced with her twice. Then, with practiced ease, he waltzed her through the French doors and out into the gardens, where a group of younger guests were playing an impromptu game of blindman’s buff.

“What are we doing?” she asked in amusement, resisting as he pulled her down the terrace steps onto the lantern-lit lawn.

“Do you really want to dance with all those pretentious people watching us?” he teased her. “I know now where that owlish scowl of yours comes from. Your brother looked as if he might swoop down on me any minute.”

Jane smiled. “The Belshire Scowl can’t be as dangerous as the Boscastle Blues.”

He stopped at the bottom of the stone stairs, blinking innocently. “The Boscastle Blues? Is that some sort of military regiment?”

She stared up at his angular, teasing face. He was still holding her hand, well, only her gloved fingers, but the warm pressure was enough to send a frisson of forbidden excitement deep down into her belly. It was so tempting to press herself against that strong, hard body and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“The curse of the Boscastle Blues,” she said. “And don’t act as if you don’t know what it is.”

He shrugged his shoulders in bafflement. “But I don’t. Is it something horrible?”

“Only if you’re a victim—one of the unfortunate souls who falls under the bewitchment of those blue eyes.”

“Well, I apologize that my family has claimed you as a victim.”

“You don’t look all that sorry.”

He stared at her in curiosity. “I didn’t mean as my victim, sweetheart. I meant as Nigel’s.”

“Oh.” Could her cheeks blush any hotter? How could she forget she was supposed to be wallowing in heartbreak over Nigel, not fighting an attraction to his sinfully desirable cousin?

“He had green eyes, anyway,” she murmured.

“Then perhaps the curse can be broken,” he said, leaning toward her to brush a stray curl off her shoulder.

She caught a whiff of his shaving soap and shivered involuntarily. “Umm. Perhaps.”

“Hey, you two, are you playing?” a friendly voice shouted, and a young man yanked his blindfold off seconds before he bumped them back into the steps. “Oh, hello, Sedgecroft. Have I caught you?”

“Not yet.” Grayson steered Jane firmly down the flagstone path, into the garden twinkling with beguiling fairy lanterns. “Give us a chance.”

“But I don’t want to play,” Jane protested.

“Well, neither do I, but I have no desire to be accused of luring you outside for a tryst either. Have you ever toured the gardens here by moonlight?”

She subjected him to a suspicious look. “Are they anything like the Pavilion of Pleasure?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“That sounds rather ominous, Sedgecroft. Why this secrecy all of a sudden?”

“I don’t want us to be overheard. Let’s separate and meet in the middle of the maze.”

“But the maze isn’t lit.”

“I know. Don’t be frightened. I shall be with you.”

“Do we really need to skulk about like spies?”

“Only if I mean to protect your name. Go.”

He watched with a grin as she turned into the labyrinth of privet hedge, only to take a wrong turn and summon him for help.