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"Lover's quarrel?"
"I'm not sure. Have I offended you, mon coeur?”
"Of course not," she snapped. "I'm only thirsty. Would you play the gallant and find me a glass of lemonade?"
"I assume 'lemonade' is code for wine?"
She was still drawing in an outraged breath when he retreated to find her a glass of wine. He found a lemonade too, just in case she'd been honest about that. But when he returned to her, she look the wine and left him with the warm and watery lemonade. She said nothing, and Aidan watched them both as if he were waiting for a play to begin.
Jude offered a quick glare, warning his friend to stay out of it, but he was Marissa's brother, after all, and he couldn't be dissuaded.
"So, have we picked a wedding date yet?" He smiled at the two sets of eyes burning a hole through him. "Everyone is aflutter about the match. I think we might charge for entrance to the nuptials, if we wanted. People are curious."
Marissa casually turned to look behind her, and she saw the same thing that Jude did. If the watching eyes were any indication, people really were c
urious. Marissa look the warning and smiled widely, but her words belied the grin. "Do you think they'd enjoy it if I boxed your ears?"
Aidan tweaked one of the curls that cascaded from the crown of her head and murmured something about what a fine lady she'd grown into.
Marissa maintained her smile even as she finished her wine. Quite an amazing feat. Jude was still pondering that skill when she popped the glass into Aidan's hand and turned toward Jude. "Shall we do this?"
He'd been so focused on her that he hadn't heard the strings singing out the announcement of the waltz. "Without a doubt," he said, with a little bow before he thrust the lemonade at Aidan and offered Marissa his arm. She kept her pace slow as they walked toward the dancing. He'd noticed that she tended to become deliberately proper when under stress.
"What has you so upset?" he asked softly.
"I am not upset. Not at all."
"I got the distinct impression that you were glaring at me earlier."
"Nonsense."
"Marissa—"
"If you want that woman," she began in a forceful whisper, "I can't fault you. She's beautiful. But I would ask that yon at least wait until our betrothal has been broken!"
"I assume you're speaking of Mrs. Wellingsly?"
"You know exactly whom I speak of." They were nearing the couples poised to dance, and Marissa pulled him to an even slower stroll. "You two were cuddled together in the corner as if you were—"
"We were hardly cuddling. And I can't imagine what it matters to you, regardless."
"People will talk!"
"All, so you'd like me to be discreet in my affairs, while you openly flirt with every adolescent boy who dances a jig past your line of vision?"
"I've done no such thing!"
Her voice rang in his ears, and she blinked in shock before daring a glance around them. Everyone within a twenty-foot radius was staring. Even the conductor cleared his voice before he rushed the orchestra into the first notes of the waltz. Marissa and Jude stood at the edge of the dancers, facing each other. Her eyes got wider with each second.
Finally, Jude simply took her hand and placed it on his shoulder. It would only be more of a scene if she stormed off. She seemed to realize this as well and clasped his hand when he offered. They both wore gloves, and Marissa's back was protected from his touch by the shell of her corset. Not to mention the fact that they were both angry. But somehow all these prohibitions only heightened the sensations of holding her.
Her breath came too fast due to anger, and the rise of her breasts strained against her bodice. Her cheeks and lips seemed rubbed with rouge, they were so red, and her eyes glinted passion. Marissa York looked aroused, and Jude wanted to growl his lust right into the pretty shell of her ear. He hadn't been able to see her clearly in the gazebo, but this is how he would picture her now, furious and demanding and Hushed. . . .
"Patience Wellingsly isn't my lover and she never will be."
"She looks at you like you're a candied treat." Her eyes swept down to his chest for a bare second. "Which is entirely ridiculous at your size."
Jude considered offering a quip about being a mouthful, but reminded himself that wicked as she was, she was not one of his mother's friends.
