Page 5 of The Virgin and the Viscount

Despite that, she felt every instant of his perusal as if he had run his hands along her body instead of merely his gaze. The vile man.

Her cheeks flushed in response as he held his arm out to her. “I would love to dance with you.”

Oh, how she wished she could have confronted him without dancing with him!

Nevertheless, a dance was the simplest way for them to converse privately, so she slipped her gloved hand in the crook of his elbow. He led her to the dance floor.

Despite the closeness of their families, it had been years since she had danced with him and she generally avoided his presence whenever possible. Walking beside him now, she found the sheer physicality of him slightly overwhelming.

“Have you always been this tall?”

“Have you always been this short?” he asked in return.

“I am not short, which you know. I stand at least a head taller than most women here. The fact that you still tower above me makes you the anomaly.” Why was she picking a fight with him? Perhaps she should at least try to be somewhat pleasant before she attacked his lifestyle, but he brought out the worst in her.

“I suppose that’s relative.” He turned her in his arms so she faced him as they reached the dance floor.

With her hand in his and his hand on her waist, she was certain he must be holding her closer than was socially acceptable. She studied the distance between them. It seemed equal to the distance that had been between her and Thomas. So why did it feel closer when Sullivan held her?

She could think of no reason other than the animosity between them.

Perhaps this had been a bad idea. She needed to discuss this matter with him; it was important. But suddenly he was everywhere. His scent surrounded her—sandalwood and lemon and something earthy and entirely him—it was a ridiculously masculine smell. Warmth from his body permeated the fabric of her gown and it felt as if his hands were on her bare skin. A heated flush crept up her chest, and she cursed her fair complexion. She didn’t blush prettily like some women did. No, her fair freckled skin got red and splotchy, and that wasn’t an attractive look for anyone.

“Freckles, be honest with me, are you dying?”

“What?” she choked out the word. “No, it’s just the heat from the crowded room makes my skin flush—” He chuckled and the sound of it flooded her with irritation. “I know it is unattractive. It is cruel to tease me about something of which I have no control.”

“I was not speaking of your complexion, instead suggesting something must be dire in order for you to seek me out as a dance partner.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but found her lips stuck in a silent oh.

Wait. Was he implying he had danced with her only because he thought she was dying?

“And there is nothing unattractive about your complexion,” he said. His gaze lingered at her décolletage. “Quite the contrary. I find the pinkening of your skin appealing.”

Again, she found herself utterly silent. She had no defenses for him to be…was he being flirtatious with her?

He must know she was not used to receiving compliments like that from men as attractive as he. He must know it flustered her. Therefore he was tormenting her on purpose. As a jest.

Yes, that sounded much more believable.

Her heart pounded, echoing in her ears. His ruthless teasing made what she was about to do easier. The man was a cad and a scoundrel. Someone needed to call him on it, and she was just the woman to do it.

“I wanted to discuss something of great importance with you.”

His brows rose and his brown eyes bore into her. “I’m admittedly intrigued.”

She took a sobering breath, then forged ahead. “Your behavior is unbecoming of a gentleman of your status and you should change it at once.”

He chuckled. “Indeed?” His hand at the small of her back pressed closer, warming her.

Had his voice always been this deep and rumbly? As if he’d just rolled out of bed? And how was it possible for his hand to be so warm and big?

“Do you suppose you could be more specific about which behavior? What could I possibly be doing that is affecting your life?”

“That’s precisely it! You are doing nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

He grinned and a hint of a dimple teased at his right cheek. “I am a man of leisure.”

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