Page 76 of Wickedly Yours
“She is not unredeemable,” he whispered. “Thank you, Petra.”
His sister swatted him with her fan. “Do not forget the service I’ve done you. I may yet need your assistance. I’ve no intention of marrying Dunning no matter Mother’s scheming.” She sailed off towards a group of young ladies, all waving in her direction.
Rowan turned, his gaze tracing every curve of the beautiful woman in red. It was time to claim his wife.
As he started towards Arabella, she caught sight of him.
Eyes, dark like pitch watched his approach. She lifted her chin in challenge, perhaps daring him to cut her in front of the room, which of course he had no intention of doing. A twitching hand against her skirts proved her bravado false. Arabella was nervous. Frightened.Brave.
Heat rose up his skin thinking of her and how badly he wished to touch her. Taste all the delicious hollows and curves of her body, so delightfully displayed in the crimson gown.
The dark lashes brushed against her cheek as she lowered her eyes and her lips parted before her head raised.
What Rowan saw in her eyes took his breath away, the dark pools full of longing as if her soul were speaking to him. Had he not been sure of Arabella or feared she would play him false again, her eyes told him different. Possession glinted briefly, a small hint of her reluctance to share him with anyone else. He knew that about her and accepted such, for he didn’t wish to share her either.
Bergamot, such an odd scent for a woman, filled his nostrils, rippling across his skin, tempting him with her nearness. Rowan wished to be far from this ballroom, alone with her where he could inhale her scent as his body covered hers. The matching chemise he purchased likely lay beneath the crimson velvet, caressing her skin as he wished to do.
He had wondered until this moment if he would be able to forgive her.
I need not have worried.
The strands of a waltz sounded from the orchestra and she held out her hand.
“Will you dance with me, Malden?” Her voice was husky.
“Rowan.” He swung her onto the dance floor and into the steps of the waltz.
* * *
At the touchof his hand, warmth radiated through her as if she suddenly stepped into the sun after standing in the rain for hours. Arabella leaned into Rowan, her body molding against his. The gold braid lining her bodice teased his chest, catching against the buttons of his shirt. Each brush across her breasts was agonizing, making her long to be alone with him.
The ballroom buzzed with speculation as dozens of eyes watched them dance.
His hand splayed against the small of her back. “Hello, Bella.” The deep growl echoed and bounced through her to finally settle between her thighs. Green and gold lights flashed in his eyes as he stared down at her. Still, she could not completely read his mood and worried over it. Was he glad to see her?
“Do you like the dress?” she murmured.
His gaze heated, dropping to the valley between her breasts where the ruby hung, then raised to focus on her lips. He swung her around gracefully, moving his legs further into her skirts, the hard length of him pressed briefly against her thigh. “I would like the gown better were it on the floor of my bedroom and you naked against the coverlet.”
Arabella tripped and narrowly avoided stepping on his toes. At least that question was answered. He still desired her at least physically. “Poor of you to say such an outrageous thing when I am trying not to embarrass us both,” she snapped.
“There’s my girl. Not the shy wallflower standing alone. I miss her, you know.” He nuzzled briefly against her neck
“Do you? Your lack of communication would tell me otherwise.” Her head turned away from his, not wishing him to see the moisture gathering behind her eyes. What had she expected? That he would completely put aside his distrust upon seeing her?
“We have both behaved badly,” he agreed.
“Me more so than you,” she murmured into his shoulder, clasping the muscles beneath his fine evening coat. He smelled heavenly, that particular mixture of leather, tobacco and something that was only Rowan.
He pressed his lips lightly against her temple and the fingers at her waist tightened their grip. “Shh, Bella.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” she whispered, her voice breaking just a bit knowing she could not fall apart in a ballroom full of theton.“Or see me and flee the premises.”
A frown crossed his beautiful mouth and Arabella longed to press her fingers to his lips.
“We cannot have this conversation here, where half of London watches.” He danced her over to the terrace doors leading to the garden. Grabbing her hand, he led her out onto the terrace and down a small set of marble steps, stopping beneath a large tree.
The cool evening air chilled her shoulders and arms, helping to chase away her melancholy. She told herself it was far better she know his feelings rather than guess at them. Still her heart beat furiously. He was watching her, his face thoughtful, waiting for her to speak.
