Page 47 of The Banished Bride
His teeth set on edge. Perhaps it had not been the best of ideas to inform the fashionable modiste he had engaged for Aurora that her newest client needed a ball gown fit for a special occasion. Having all the measurements in hand, Madame Mathilde had promised to deliver a work of art that would show off to perfection the charms of the lady in question. As his eyes strayed back to the froth of seafoam green silk, and the vastexpanse of creamy skin that it left uncovered, a low oath slipped from his lips.
Hell’s Teeth.If it showed any more of her charms, those lovely breasts would be bared for all to see.
The thought caused a surge of heat to course through him that another glass of hurriedly consumed champagne did little to dampen. No doubt it had something to do with desire, for there was no denying that he ached to feel those soft curves cupped in his palms.
However, out of the corner of his eye he saw Aurora’s partner pull her a fraction closer to his chest and he realized that desire did not answer for all that he was feeling. There was something else. Jealousy, perhaps? For right now his palms were also itching to be wrapped around the cursed fellow’s throat for having the impudence to touch her in such an intimate way.
But the real source of the fire was something he couldn’t quite put a finger on, since he had never experienced the sensation before.
As a scowl as black as his fine set of evening clothes came to his face, Alex sought to make some sense of the flames licking up inside him. Why the devil did he care who danced with her? She was, he reminded himself, a most exasperating female. Just because the sway of her slim hips and the sparkle in the depths of her emerald eyes caused him to want to sweep her up in his arms and carry her off to the nearest bedroom …. A harsh sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, rumbled deep in his throat. It didn’t help his mood any to suddenly realize he was still legally entitled to do just that!
Several gentlemen, on observing the Earl of Woodbridge’s present expression, thought better of seeking to strike up a conversation, and swerved in a wide arc around him.
Damnation, he repeated once more to himself, blithely unaware of the formidable face he was presenting. Retreatingfarther into the shadows cast by a towering arrangement of potted palms and exotic blooms, he turned and cast a glowering glance at the sea of swirling silks ebbing and flowing in tune with the lively music. It wasn’t as if there weren’t any number of ladies present who were far more beautiful—and far more willing to throw themselves into his arms.
The strange thing was, he didn’t want anyone else but Aurora in his arms … In his bed … In his life.
Yet another long gulp of the sparkling wine slid down his throat. Alex stood for some time contemplating the spins and pirouettes of his own emotions, then his hand suddenly tightened around the glass with such force that the stem was in danger of snapping. Perhaps he had finally grasped hold of what had his sense so addled.
The word had four letters and began with an ‘L’ ....
It was lust, he tried to tell himself. But with a shake of his head, he had to acknowledge that what he was feeling was infinitely more complex than that, though lust was a part of its whole.
No, it was love that turned his life on its ear.
Alex slowly drained the rest of his drink, letting the import of the word seep into every fiber of his being. He might as well finally admit it, he told himself with a wry twitch of his lips. He loved Aurora, no matter the absurdity or the irony of it. Or the fact that she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
The devil of it was, what was he going to do about it?
Aurora passed by yet again, this time with Jack ready to lead her out for the promised waltz. He watched the light of the myriad candles reflect off the silky curls framing her face. Like the young lady herself, the actual color seemed subtle, quixotic and damnably elusive. Repressing a harried sigh, Alex set off in search of a waiter with a full bottle.
His steps took him past a cluster of turbaned matrons, their attention divided between keeping a basilisk eye on their charges and exchanging the latest salient tidbits of gossip. Off to one side, Miss Robertson sat by herself. Light winked off the lenses of her spectacles as she stared with rapt fascination at the glittering scene before her. Altering his direction, he drew to a halt beside her chair.
“Enjoying yourself, Miss Robertson?”
She looked up, a sparkle evident in her eyes. “Very much, Alex. All the fine ladies and gentlemen in their elegant splendor, the chandeliers and the flowers, the music—it is even more wonderful than I ever imagined.”
“No doubt you would enjoy it even more were you to join in the dancing yourself,” he said softly as he extended his gloved hand.
Her jaw dropped. “Y-you can’t mean to dance with me?”
“Why not?”
“First of all, I’m an old woman. And secondly, that is a w-waltz that the musicians are preparing to play.”
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “First of all, I have noticed that for an old woman you are still extremely agile. And secondly, I have it from a good source that you, too, have acquired the necessary footwork for that particular dance since Aurora was in need of someone to practice with. So that seems to answer all the objections.”
Miss Robertson was drawn to her feet and the earl’s arm came firmly around her ample waist.
After nearly treading on his toes for the first several steps, she appeared to compose herself and fell into the rhythm of the music, relaxing enough to follow his lead without the threat of doing him bodily harm. The effort, however, seemed to require her total concentration to be focused on the tips of her kidskin slippers, and they moved through the crush in silence. But aftera series of box steps brought them to a less crowded spot on the dance floor, she looked up into his eyes with a searching gaze.
“Alex, if you do not mind, I have a rather pressing question I should like to ask you. Perhaps now is a good time, seeing as we have a chance to converse in a modicum of privacy.”
A certain wariness shaded his reply. “Yes?”
“Why is it you are being so nice to the two of us?”
The tightening of his jaw was barely perceptible in the flickering of the light. “So you, too, think me no more than an unprincipled rogue, acting out of some selfish desire to attain an end?” he asked softly. They turned, and a shadow danced across his face, making his expression even more inscrutable than before.
