Page 12 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
Ballocks. What had frightened her off?
More to the point—who?
Then he caught Miss Peacock watching them, spite glittering from her eyes.
There really was no predator worse in the world than theperfect Society lady.
Chapter Two
Clara clung toher mother as they entered the dining room.
Sweet heaven—whowasthat man? He seemed as out of place here as Clara herself. Not conforming to Society etiquette, he’d approached her, his body filling her field of vision, like a huge beast emerging from his lair. But, unlike the lords and ladies who used polite niceties to disguise their contempt, this huge Scot had spoken with a brutal frankness that resonated with her at a primal level.
She could never have believed such men existed in the circle of Society in which she now resided. Every creature she’d encountered since her stepfather brought her here stared at her as if she didn’t belong—as if she werewrong.
And shewaswrong—a feral creature from the slums of London, with coarse manners and unsavory ideas. She would never be one of them. For if the ladies and gentlemen who resided in this little corner of Northumberland could spot that she was a misfit at a single glance, what hope did she have of convincing the men and women of the—what did Mama call it?
Oh yes—theton.
Why could she never remember the names for everything?Ton, cotillion, quadrille, modiste…
These people with whom she was now required to socialize were like foreigners—they spoke a different language. They were a different species altogether.
None of them were like Papa Harcourt, who, though strict to the point where Clara was a little afraid of him, was always fair—generous in his praise, and patient in his censure. Not once had he raised his voice to her in anger, let alone his hand. Instead, he left her to her harshest critic—her own conscience.
But the other inhabitants of this strange world treated her with loathing, as if they knew the blackness that resided in her soul—that piece of her that was spawned from evil.
And yet, among the swarm of enemies here tonight, she had sensed an ally—a lone man who stared at her from across the dance floor, his penetrating gaze breaking through her armor until he saw her and recognized her.
But, instead of looking away in disgust, he regarded her with understanding and desire.
And that desire was more unsettling than the contempt or ridicule she’d weathered since entering Society—more terrifying than the beatings she’d endured as a child.
Her fear was not of what he might do—but of how he made herfeel.
When he’d approached her, a delicious heat bloomed in her belly, and a deep, wicked ache pulsed between her legs, in that secret place where she touched herself at night, closing her eyes to relive the memory of the wicked sights she’d glimpsed in her former life—drunken men taking their pleasures in the dark streets by London’s docks; sailors who tossed coins at painted women before lifting their skirts…
And Clara, in her wickedness, had felt her body turn to liquid at the sight as she imagined what it might be like to have a man between her thighs.
Such as Murdo Alastair James McTavish.
What might it feel like to have him touch her…there?
Her foot caught in the hem of her gown, and she tripped.
“Careful, Clara, dear,” Mama said, steadying her, and Clara’s heart jolted as she looked up to see the object of her fascination staring at her.
Did he know his own potency—that he could have her bend to his will and yield to his touch?
Yes, he did. With one glance of those deep emerald eyes, he could read her soul—her innermost, wickedest desires.
It was not to be borne. Not even Mama Betty knew of her wickedness. And doubtless if he learned of her desire, he’d laugh at her like the others—call her guttersnipe, as Miss Peacock did.
“Let’s get you something to eat,” Mama said. “Lady Cholmondeley told me she’s set a place for you with the other young people.”
“Can’t I sit with you and Papa Harcourt?”
“My dear, you need to learn—as others do—that you’re as good as the rest of them.” Mama lowered her voice. “We wouldn’t want to give the other girls here the satisfaction of believing you fear them, would we? Once you’ve weathered this party, you’ll be able to weather anything in London Society. And your brothers won’t be sitting too far away.”
