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However, thinking of them with Blackthorn in mind was anything but boring. Her face felt hot all over again at the thought. “If it’s what he’ll be expecting, then it’s perfect,” she said, beginning to back out of the room.
Harrow blessedly allowed her to pass before he continued. “I wanted you to see it now so you won’t be shocked or overly nervous later.”
“I thank you for the warning,” she said, embarrassed to hear the quaver in her voice.
“One more thing,” he said before she could move. “When he and I were about Town together this last month, I tried to ascertain his…appetites, but I’m afraid he was quite tight-lipped. As such, I don’t know what his tastes are. Before you take him upstairs tonight, you must agree on a stop word, and you must be the one to broach the subject. Remember what I told you concerning people and power?”
“Yes.” In order to perform her role believably, she’d had to learn how to subtly gain the upper hand in any conversation and become the dominant participant without it being obvious. It was a skill that enabled her to steer the subject either in a desired direction or away from dangerous territory.
“Well, the same principles apply in the bedchamber. Until his predilections are known to be otherwise, he must feel he is in the position of greatest power and control even if it’s only an illusion. Requesting that you establish a stop word won’t shock him if he’s had previous intimate encounters involving that sort of thing, but it will cause him to respect any boundaries you decide to set. If he’s inexperienced, he’ll merely assume you’re apprehensive and it will make him feel protective. Either path gives you inherent control over the situation.”
Again, her face heated, but she nodded. “Very well, but in all honesty, I’ll be astonished if we even make it to the point of requiring one,” she confessed, wishing her cheeks weren’t on fire. “The moment of truth will likely bring everything to an abrupt halt.”
His eyes lit with gentle amusement. “It may, but I cannot imagine any recess lasting very long. I’ve seen the way the man looks at you, Diana.”
She’d seen it, too. An involuntary shiver made her bite her lip. When she looked up, Harrow’s smile had become all too knowing. “Don’t say it,” she muttered. Face aflame, she turned and made for the stairs, followed by his soft laughter.
…
Stepping down from his carriage a few minutes before seven, Lucas ascended the front steps of Diana’s house determined not to show how nervous he was. It’s ridiculous that a man of my sophistication should be so on edge over this.
In truth, he couldn’t remember ever anticipating something so much. The whole afternoon had been spent in preparation. He’d bathed assiduously, spent an inordinate amount of time grooming himself, and had made his valet wait until only an hour ago to give him a proper shave. Even his clothing had been selected with her pleasure in mind. She must find him irresistible.
He was greeted with warmth by both Diana and her protector, which eased his apprehension somewhat. Yesterday, Harrow had made it perfectly clear he would brook no offense or injury against her. It should have irritated him, being constrained to such terms as had been outlined. After all, he’d won the wager; therefore, the debt ought to be fulfilled on his terms. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel resentful, when he knew bloody well she could’ve reneged or accepted Harrow’s proposal to offer him alternative compensation.
She hadn’t. She was allowing this. Because she wanted him.
Enthusiasm returned, chasing away his anxiety. In the eyes of most of his peers, he was about to become one of only a rare, privileged few.
Pleasantries were exchanged, and the three went to the salon for aperitifs. There, they spoke comfortably, as friends, of matters unrelated to the evening’s ultimate purpose. Except for an undercurrent of excitement that ran deep beneath the surface of the conversation, it was like all his previous visits.
That excitement was an electrical presence, a tension in the atmosphere like the sort one felt just before a storm broke. Every time his gaze met Diana’s it spiked, and in the wake of this came a distinct tightening in his midsection. It wasn’t arousal, though he hovered at its cusp. More and more, he wondered what it could mean.
Later in the evening, her look became pensive as she considered him across the dinner table, and he grew curious to know if she was experiencing the same sort of reaction. The world seemed to move around them like water around an island amid a fast-flowing river.
His mind acknowledged the table conversation as lively, but he couldn’t have related its precise content if asked. His mouth recognized the meal served as being delicious, but he couldn’t have told anyone what he ate. All his focus was trained on her. Everything else simply faded into insignificance.
Harrow excused himself for a moment but then returned to escort them to the drawing room for sherry and some light entertainment.
On approaching, Lucas stiffened at the sound of scales being practiced on a pianoforte. Mentally, he kicked himself for the reaction when Diana, who was walking beside him, shot him a quizzical glance. Anxious to account for his reaction, he patted her hand on his arm. “I was not anticipating the presence of additional guests tonight.”
Her smile was easy as she guided him on into the room and over to its occupant, who stood to greet them. “This is not a guest, but rather my music instructor. Please allow me to introduce Monsieur Laurent, who has graciously agreed to play a little for us this evening. Monsieur Laurent, this is Lord Blackthorn, my neighbor.”
It was Lucas’s first good look at his rival. Laurent was a slender man of middling height who appeared to be in his mid-to-late twenties, with dark brown hair, laughing blue eyes, and a bright smile. To Lucas’s shock, the fellow seemed genuinely delighted to meet him, his smile broadening as they shook hands. He seemed even more pleased as he then kissed the back of Diana’s hand and said something to her briefly in his native tongue.
Lucas hid his jealousy and irritation behind a practiced smile. If he thinks he’s going to seduce me the way he did Harrow, he’s in for a disappointment. “I think I may have heard you play before while I was out in my garden, or was that you, Diana?”
“She is quite accomplished,” Laurent answered for her with shining eyes. “There is so little I can teach her anymore. I hardly know why she keeps me,” he added, winking at her.
There was a subtle, telltale shift in both Harrow’s and her exp
ressions as their eyes met, and Lucas knew they were both worried for their secret—for him. Again, he tamped down his jealousy.
Then Diana answered smoothly, “These days I confess I’m more a patroness than an employer. Your gifts would be too keenly missed, were I to relinquish you.”
Nausea twisted in Lucas’s stomach as the musician’s cheeks pinked and he looked down as though embarrassed. Eager to get this part of the evening over with, he cleared his throat and asked what piece the man would play.
Thankfully, this seemed to prompt everyone to action. The pianist spoke about the music, a piece of his own composition, while Harrow poured drinks. When all was ready, Diana led Lucas to a couch so they could sit and listen.
