Page 49 of A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess

She was so dazzlingly radiant and effortlessly charming. She was a flame, and all the moths were drawn to her, hypnotized. This washisdoing. His words, his hands, and his body broke the shell Diana was hiding in, pulled at the thread of her cocoon till she emerged.

He should be smiling as he watched her have the time of her life, enjoying the attention and the pleasure of being wanted. He should be admiring his masterpiece. Instead, his hand tightened around the glass he had drained too many times, and his jaw was so tense that he could hear his teeth crack.

“Are you all right, Crawford?” Richard teased.

“Go dance with your wife, Seymour,” James hissed as he watched another enchanted gentleman bow to Diana.

He heard Richard’s light chuckle. He listened as his father spoke with old acquaintances. But just as he feared, all his attention was focused on her. Hers wasn’t focused on him, though.

One after the other, men tripped over themselves to dance with her. She rejected no one, as if making up for lost time. And all the while, she hadn’t let her eyes drift away. She smiled sowidely, and at some point, someone probably said something pretentiously hilarious or safely daring, for she gasped.

It was not a real gasp. Not like the one she let out when he moved his lips over her neck and tasted her skin. James was sure that no one could make her feel that way. But the sheer fact that she allowed them to even try…

James turned to refill his glass.

“Now, that I didn’t expect,” Richard commented, mostly to Selina.

James saw him. From across the ballroom, Lord Ainsley made his way to where Diana was standing. If James’s name was whispered in secret by the ladies and uttered in terror by the matrons, Lord Ainsley’s was spoken like a prayer. He was perfect in every way. Healthy, wealthy, and utterly safe. There wasn’t a single father or mother in this room who didn’t dream of seeing him court their daughters. And now he had set his sights on Diana.

“I wouldn’t be surprised to see him call on her soon. He never shows open attention like that,” Selina noted.

James couldn’t help but glare at her. Sure, she was his best friend’s wife, but right now she was dangerously flirting with becoming his worst enemy.

“What is wrong, Lord Crawford?” Selina smiled that mischievous smile of hers.

Richard should have married anyone but this menace. But from the look he was giving her—a look of absolute devotion—James knew that there was never another option.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. I am sure Diana will uphold her commitment to your promenades,” Selina added.

At the mention of their promenades,of their private lessons, James turned to watch the dancing couple that had the complete attention of the ton. His eyes darkened with wicked thoughts.

Yes, Lord Ainsley was perfectly safe. But James knew Diana. And Diana didn’t want safe. Diana wanted daring and challenging, bold and confident. She wanted dangerous.Hewas dangerous.

So, he waited like the skilled predator he was. He knew that no matter how much she smiled at whatever the man was telling her, no matter how invested she seemed in their conversation, she saw the truth. The unshakable, inescapable truth.

He is not me.

The moment that thought came to James’s mind, it was as if he summoned her.

Diana turned her head and immediately spotted him through the crowd. Their eyes met. The air between them became thicker, charged. James’s gaze sharpened, dark and knowing, filled with something sensual.

And Diana caught it. It was in her sharp intake of breath and the twitching of her fingers, which were resting on Lord Ainsley’s shoulder.

My turn, little wallflower.

“Richard,” James said, his eyes still trained on Diana, “do not leave my father alone.”

“Where are you going?”

James set his drink aside and smirked. “To change the game.”

And then he moved.

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a plea. It was a statement.

Diana slowly turned to him and looked first into his eyes and then at his proffered hand. He sensed her internal battle, theurge to refuse him, the inability to do so. And then something else flickered in her eyes. Defiance.

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