Page 51 of Tall, Dark & Wicked
Petra was making him mad with hunger.
As she swirled about, Brendan imagined the legs beneath the silk and how exactly he would peel off her stockings, careful to press a kiss to each inch of exposed flesh, before pushing her thighs apart. Worse than the lust was the knowledge that he missed her—desperately. Solitary creature that he was, Brendan didn’t want or require companionship. At least he hadn’t. Besides, Petra was bound to attempt climbing again. He needed to be there, lest she needed rescue.
Christ. He sounded like a lovesick lad.
Grabbing a glass of wine off the tray of a passing servant, Brendan tossed the dark liquid back in one swallow. The wine tasted French and slightly pretentious.
Petra avoided Katherine, though Katherine greeted her politely and with a smile. Even from where he stood, Brendan saw the flash of dislike on Petra’s normally polite features, along with the sheen of jealousy.
He was terrible. He liked that Petra was jealous.
Brendan grabbed another glass of the French swill and wondered if the shadow he’d seen in the hallway last night hadn’t really been a shadow, but a person, namely Petra. He’d checked, discreetly of course, where Petra’s room was located. She was a mere four doors down on the right from his room. Had Simon guessed at Brendan’s obsession with Petra, Brendan was certain he would have been sequestered in the stables.
Petra’s eyes flashed murder at Katherine, before she was whisked off to another dance by one of Turley’s son’s. The boy was holding onto her a bit too tightly, practically pawing her. Brendan pushed back from the wall, setting the empty wine glass down. His fists clenched automatically.
Brendan wasn’t possessive by nature. He’d never had a reason to be.
Until now.
23
The evening passed far too slowly for Petra’s taste. Had she once looked forward to such events? Enjoyed them? Odd how without Morwick’s presence, the entire evening had gone gray and colorless. She hadn’t realized how profoundly she’d wanted him to see her in this particular gown.
Petra danced with nearly every gentleman in the ballroom at least once and dared not dance more for fear of creating a small scandal. Bored, and not wishing to join the women hovering around Lady Pendleton, Petra spoke for a time with Jordana. The poor girl danced awkwardly, almost as if she couldn’t hear the music, and blushed profusely every time she missed a step.
“I shall be a country girl with nothing to recommend me, neither dancing nor conversation,” Jordana muttered. “I don’t even wish a husband.”
“You don’t?” Petra questioned.
“But I do want to go to London. I’ve plans, you see.” Her gaze was full of determination, clearly intent on something only she could see.
As she suspected, Jordana wasn’t near as well-behaved as she pretended. Feeling a kindred soul, Petra wondered what her plans were. She opened her mouth to ask Jordana, but Mrs. Divet, her face wreathed in smiles, requested her attention. A young gentleman from Buxton wished an introduction.
Jordana shot Petra a woeful glance but allowed herself to be led away.
Bored after Jordana’s departure and feelingprofoundlymutinous, Petra decided to leave the ballroom. Mother was fairly howling with laughter at something Lady Pendleton related to her and wouldn’t notice her absence. At least, not immediately. Sadly, Petra doubtedanyonewould notice she was gone. Simon had yet to return from the card tables.
If she’d thought far enough ahead, and had something more interesting to do, Petra would have clothed a dressmaker’s dummy in the buttercup yellow gown her mother had wished her to wear, and positioned it in a corner next to a plant, and no one, including her mother would have been the wiser.
Strolling around the edge of the ballroom, she wondered again where Morwick was and immediately chastised herself for continuing to seek him out. A moment of respite from the noise and brittle laughter of her mother was what Petra desired. She moved toward the open terrace doors, thinking to walk the gardens. A couple lingered by the doors, whispering to each other, their heads bent together, before escaping into the darkness.
Lady Cupps-Foster and Baron Haddon.
A smile teased Petra’s lips. She’d noted Haddon’s interest in Lady Cupps-Foster over dinner the previous evening. Unfortunately, Petra could no longer escape to the gardens, though she was happy for Morwick’s mother.
Petra moved through a small hallway at the opposite side of the ballroom from where her mother stood speaking with Lady Pendleton. The first place Mother would look, should she notice her daughter’s disappearance, would be the guest room Petra occupied.
Sconces lit the hall and the sound of the musicians became somewhat muted. She’d not been down this way before, though from the positioning of the hall, she thought it might take her to the library. She could sit out the remainder of the evening there in relative peace.
Katherine’s laughter, throaty and seductive, floated toward Petra.
Thinking Katherine was in the midst of an assignation with Morwick and not wishing to be seen, Petra opened the first door on her right. Relieved to find it unlocked, and she quickly ducked inside. The very thought of witnessing the pair together again made her ill. She shut the door with a quiet click.
The room was dark but appeared deserted. Heavy curtains were open to allow the pale moonlight to stream through the windows. The bit of light illuminated various dark lumps which Petra took to be low chairs and tables. She could just make out a couch by the window next to another dark mass which she took to be a wing-backed chair. The couch was a perfect spot to look out across the moonlit moors.
Making her way to the couch, she carefully spread the skirts of her gown to avoid undue wrinkling and settled herself on the plump cushions of the couch. Her feet ached from dancing and she kicked off her slippers, wiggling her toes blissfully. Her hands automatically crawled from her sides to clasp in her lap, but Petra forcefully pulled her arms apart. How often had she sat quietly, hands perfectly clasped, while Mother instructed her?
Not anymore.
