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“I know who you are.” He growled in her ear. Growled? In herear? She pulled back but moved only as far as he allowed. Rather than take fright, she became angry. That half smile, the single most charming, delirious thing she’d ever seen, only served to infuriate her further. It appeared he could divine her feelings as she did his, and the more fractious she became, the more pleased he seemed.
She bristled. “If it would not create even more of a scene, I should leave you here in the middle of the dance.”
“Should you? Dislike the odd scene now and then?”
Were dukes always this impertinent? “I have had quite enough of this, Your Grace, and I do not appreciate being made to be a figure of fun, or worse.”
“It is not my intention to do so, I assure you.”
“And who will assure thebeau monde? On the very rare occasions I have been led out, it has been with partners culled from the worst of thetonby my cousins, who seem determined to make a mockery of me. They fill my dance card with the halt, the lame, and the aged to highlight my inability to attract partners for myself, though I have no desire to attract any at all. None of these likely fellows ranked higher than a baron, and on the occasion they’d fetched me an earl, the gossip lasted for a fortnight. How dared I reach so high? But perhaps you have done me a favor. I have plans to remove myself from society forever, and I believe you have made my exodus that much simpler.”
“Pardonme?”
“I shall be nothing less than a laughingstock, and receive the cut direct for daring to dance with a duke. I must thank you, Your Grace.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and the tremor of failing bravado. “You have made me notorious.”
He sighed. “Oh, my dear. I can do much better than this.”
Again, without volition, Felicity found herself being taken elsewhere: no longer on the dance floor, headed for her erstwhile hiding place.
* * *
In a clutch of heartbeats, Alfred swept Miss Templeton off the floor and back behind those palms he’d found her hiding amongst. Her fluttery friend had flown, as had the other wallflowers who had been cowering there. He could feel her pulse racing, could scent her anxiety, but it was lacking the astringent overtones of terror.
“You are unafraid.” He released her and nodded to Bates; having stood sentinel near the edge of the dance floor, his steward now bowed and disappeared.
“I am not unfamiliar with the capricious antics of large creatures.” Felicity unfurled her fan with little panache and wafted air over her flushed cheeks.
“I should be very interested in hearing such tales.” He reached out and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, taking the opportunity to edge her toward the French doors.
She put both hands on his chest and, with elbows bent, pushed back, preventing him from going farther.Horses, he thought and allowed her to believe she’d stopped him in his tracks.
“We may part company here,” she said. “No one need be the wiser, and I am certain I can rely upon the gossips to shred my reputation to flinders by dawn.”
“I suspect it is in tatters even as we speak. For the whole of thetonmust know that we are here, alone.” Alfred moved to her left, putting the doors at his back. As he suspected she would, she turned to face him.I won’t kick out at you, he thought, amused,but best to keep me in your sights. “Can you be sure that this transgression is enough?”
Miss Templeton snapped her fan closed and slapped herself on the thigh. “It is sufficient unto my own ends, sir. Your Grace.”
“Ah, but insufficient unto mine.” He moved forward, and she moved back; he shifted to the left, and she spun and backed toward the doors. Much like the waltz they’d just shared, he was invigorated, and for the first time in years, full of hope. “For my ends rely less on gossip and more upon Fate.”
“Fate! I believe in choice, although choice is as elusive to women as is the opportunity to address the House of Lords.”
He moved again, but she had divined his intentions and edged away from the doors. With regret, he drew down the power of the Alpha, snared her in his gaze, and exuded the inexplicable puissance of the most powerful of his kind, that forceful, compelling energy that none could resist, much less ahomo plenus. He could feel the characteristic compression of air all around him that caused those less dominant than he to experience difficulty in drawing breath and inspired the precipitous constriction of personal will and movement; it was a pity to use his power in this way, so soon upon meeting her. He lowered his voice. “Fate has favored you, and as you will soon see, the only choice to be made is to be—”
“Are you snarling at me?” Miss Templeton rapped him on the shoulder with her fan, hard. His hand went to the spot, shocked not from the strike—its force was nothing to one of his constitution—but by the fact that he was unable to overwhelm her. She held his gaze, pink of cheek, firm of jaw, unafraid, and euphoria exploded in his chest. He could see what thetonsaw, a fleshy woman who was perhaps too fond of being out in the sun without her bonnet, who was not suited to the current mode of fashion, who was less than a diamond of the first water, but he saw beyond their narrow-minded, idiosyncratic prejudices to the fiery highlights of her hair, to the voluptuousness of her figure, the brightness of her eyes. He imagined taking down her russet-colored tresses, the waves of it caressing her glorious shoulders in company with his hands, hands that would roam over every delightful curve to both their infinite pleasure… He inhaled deeply again, imprinting her very essence upon his soul, frantic to indulge in her fragrance from head to toe. This was she, finally, after all the years on his increasingly desperate search, hisvera amoris, the one he’d nearly sacrificed his entire pack to find—the one he feared did not in fact exist. Here she was standing before him, and his wolf howled to take her, mark her, so that none could dispute she belonged to him—
“Your Grace, I cannot promise I will remain ladylike if you insist upon smelling me.”
“Magnificent thing, noses,” he mused. Her eyes darted toward the dance floor. “No, I’m not mad. You are extraordinarily calm, aren’t you? I’ve had ladies of the highest bloodlines trembling in my grasp because of who I am. It would take rather a lot to unnerveyou.”
“This is improper in the extreme, Your Grace.”
“Is it? Hmmmm.” He inhaled again, so close to her neck, she backed herself right out the doors and onto the terrace, all the way to the balustrade. The moon was new; all was darkness around them, with only the faintest light spilling from the mansion—yet he saw her clear as day. “Noses. I discern your gown has been in sachets of sweet william rather than lavender, an unconventional choice. You bathed with vanilla-scented soap, and the top note of your perfume is rosemary, yet another uncommon combination. You are something of a devotee of lemonade, and I detect a generous dollop of honey. Delicious,” he murmured. He heard her heart race once more, and he scented the beginnings of arousal. “But I digress. Were we to go about this in the way of theton, I would ask to whom I would apply for permission to court you.”
“Permission! Courting? I do not intend to marry, much less wed someone who despite the loftiness of his birth is little better than a ruffian cozying up to a doxy—which I am not, and as such, I am insulted beyond measure by this treatment.” She shivered, and he stepped closer; his heat enfolded her, and the gooseflesh on the upper parts of her arm disappeared.
“It is clear that you are a woman of substance,” he said, not understanding why she flinched. “And that you are due all the respect of your station.”
“If that is the case, then I insist that you respect my decision never to court, much less marry.” Did he detect the slightest waver in her voice, of disappointment—of sadness? What in the world could have put it there? Nothing he had said, surely.
