“My apologies, madam. You will have to look after Charles on your own this evening.” Dare stared enigmatically at Regan. “I promised Frost that I would escort his sister home.”
Nonplussed by his refusal, the marchioness said, “But what of Charles? You know how difficult he can be and—”
“Charles will eventually find his way home. He always does.”
Dare gently guided Regan away from the astonished Lady Pashley.
Chapter Twelve
Regan glared at Dare as he helped her into the dimly lit interior of the coach. “You have the finesse of a press gang leader,” she said, sliding across the leather-covered seat to get as far away from him as possible.
The coachman gave him a sympathetic glance. Dare’s hand tightened around the edge of the open door. It was becoming abundantly clear that Regan’s brief encounter with Allegra had not improved her mood.
After he had issued orders to the coachman, Dare climbed up into the coach. A sane man would have picked the seat opposite his vexed companion. Instead, he settled in beside her.
The coachman shouted to the horses, and the compartment wobbled slightly as their drive home commenced.
“Did Allegra insult you?”
Regan hesitated, and then stiffly replied, “No.”
She was lying.
He silently whistled. If he had known that Allegra and Charles had attended the Deightons’ ball, Dare would have taken Regan with him as he searched for their coachman. Allegra was upset about Charles, and Dare had not been sympathetic. It was unfortunate, but Allegra had chosen to blame Regan for his indifference.
“Whatever she said, it isn’t true.”
“I do not give a farthing about Lady Pashley’s opinion of me,” Regan spat. “She is an unpleasant woman who thinks only of her wants and selfish comforts. It is you and your appalling behavior this evening that is worthy of my ire.” She studied him shrewdly. “Did you run into your brother? Is that why you are in such a foul mood?”
“My brother?” Dare said, taken aback. He quickly recovered. The last thing he wanted to discuss was his unfortunate encounter with Charles. Or Allegra. He refused to be made the villain because of his sister-in-law’s mischief. In a rush, he recalled how he had discovered Regan in Vane’s arms. “This isn’t about Charles or Allegra. This is about Vane.”
Dare could have sworn the temperature in coach dropped several degrees.
Regan crossed her arms and gave him a withering look. Dare was in a lather about Vane all right, but she was sure something had happened between him and Charles and it had gotten his fire up even before he had found the two of them. He was clearly determined not to talk about it, however. She gave a little huff. Well, that was just fine. “If this is about the kiss—” Regan began.
“Frost asked Vane to escort you to the ball,” Dare broke in, his fury rekindling by what he had witnessed in the Deightons’ passageway. “Ravishing you was Vane’s brilliant idea.”
One that was likely to get the gent killed.
“Ravish me?” Her response was a very unlady-like snort. “Oh, do not be so melodramatic! Vane only tried to steal a kiss.”
“From my approach, it looked like the gent did more than try!” Dare growled.
“A mere brush of the lips. Nothing more,” she carelessly assured him. “As it is, I see no point in telling Frost about our difference of opinion.”
“A difference of opinion?” Dare leaned forward. “I caught Vane kissing you!”
“Attempting to is not the same as succeeding. By the by, Vane has you to thank for that. You foiled his best efforts.” She tipped her chin up, ignoring Dare’s thunderous expression. “Besides, I am not certain that Vane was precisely overcome with passion for me. It felt more like curiosity.”
Dare silently contemplated returning to the Deightons’ and doing more than just wrinkling his friend’s coat. “This will not go well for Vane if you continue to defend him.”
Regan shook her head. “I am not defending him at all. It just seems rather hypocritical of you to condemn Vane when you did more than brush your mouth against mine rather recently.”
She might as well have slapped him with her reticule. “I do not believe it,” Dare muttered under his breath.
Regan shifted until she was facing him. “That is the real reason why you did not punch Vane, when I could tell from your expression that you sorely wanted to spill his blood.” Confident that she was correct, she inched forward, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle. “Should I tell you the real question that has been burning like a fever in your mind since you discovered Vane and me together?”
Regan braced her left hand against the wall to keep from falling as the coach rocked and bounced. She was close enough that he could smell the violet water she had rubbed into her skin. If he bent his head, Dare could bury his nose in the softness of her neck and deeply inhale that lovely scent.
His cock stirred within his trousers, reminding him that he had not bedded a woman in months. He had been anticipating that Mrs. Randall would free him from his celibacy. Unfortunately the lovely widow did not seem as enticing as the temptress in front of him.
Dare placed his hand on her right hip to steady her. “Yes. Tell me.”
With a slow deliberation, Regan leaned forward until her lips hovered above his. Dare’s mouth went dry as she tilted her head to the side and grazed his cheek with her lips until she reached his ear.
“You want to know…”
Dare shivered as her breath teased his ear. The thickening flesh between his legs strained beneath the constrictive fabric of his trousers. Dare wondered if Regan would recoil in shock if he took her hand and placed it over his arousal. Despite the game she had decided to play with him this evening, he knew that she was still an innocent. Regan was just discovering her raw elemental power over men.
If she persisted, she would learn the risks of rousing a man’s baser appetites.
“Your unspoken question is—Did I want Vane to kiss me?” Regan smiled at him as she unhurriedly pulled away from him.
Dare captured her wrist and pulled her closer. “Did you?”
Regan stared down at his hand before she met his fuming gaze unflinchingly. “You asked for the question. I did not promise to tell you my answer.”
* * *
Regan hid her grin as she entered the town house. Dare followed her in grim silence. After her brief exchange with Lady Pashley, Regan thought Dare deserved to be tormented for his high-handed behavior this evening. Her evening, which included a splendid albeit innocent flirtation with Vane, had been ruined by Dare’s arrival.
It seemed only fair to return the favor by not giving him the answer that he craved. And why should she? All her grand plans to impress the stubborn gent were crumbling. Dare seemed determined to treat her like a younger sister rather than a lady who could stir his heart.
The kiss that they had shared had been an aberration.
“Good evening, Lady Regan,” Dare said when she reached the stairs.
Regan mentally winced. The formality did not bode well.
“Good evening, Dare,” she said softly. “Thank you for escorting me home.”
He did not answer. With her head held high, she ascended the staircase. She was not expecting Dare to follow. Like her brother, he preferred a brandy or two before he retired. He would head for the library, or perhaps return to Nox. It remained to be seen whether or not Dare intended to reveal all the details of her evening to her brother.
She paused at the second landing. Hmm … Regan supposed she and Dare were even when it came to unanswered questions, after all.
Her only warning came when Dare’s hands circled her waist. Regan’s cry of surprise came out as a diminutive squeak when he spun her around to face him.
“For a performance worthy of the stage, you should be properly rewarded,” Dare said, backing her into the drawing room.
“Rewarded?” she squeaked. His clever ambush had
thrown her off balance.
Dare kicked the door shut with his foot. “The kiss that you promised me in the coach.”
He was still mildly piqued. The volatile emotion had coalesced with the lust she had deliberately provoked, forming a potent mixture. Although unspoken, Regan had been taunting Dare to kiss her, and for some unfathomable reason the man had decided to accept her silent challenge.
Regan slipped from his loose hold and held up her hands. “I did no such thing,” she said, her stomach fluttering at his approach. She did the unthinkable, and wiped her damp palms on the front of her skirt. “What do you want from me? An apology?”
Dare grinned at her and slowly shook his head. “That is not what I have come to claim.”
The man was stalking her, and Regan could not decide if she should laugh or flee. All of her womanly instincts screamed that she was playing a high-stakes game with Dare, and she did not know all the rules. She started when her hip bumped against the back of the settee.
As Regan edged away from him, she held out her hand to halt his approach. “Dare!”
“Regan!” He mimicked her exasperated tone. “I promise this will not hurt.”
She shrieked in surprise when he lunged for her. Seizing the front of her skirt, Regan circled to the other side of the settee. “You-you … stay where you are, sir!”
“I’d rather not,” he replied, reversing his direction.
Regan feinted to the left, and then dashed for the doors that led to the small music room. She had managed to open the door several inches before Dare slammed it shut. His other palm connected with the wooden surface, blocking any thought of escape.
Regan spun around so that her back was against the shut door. She was lightly panting, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She looked up at her captor not in fear, but with anticipation. Still, she could not resist adding, “What if my brother returns and catches you kissing me?”
Again.
“Frost can go to the devil,” Dare murmured, lowering his mouth to hers.
* * *
If this was madness, he willingly embraced it.
Feeling edgy and greedy, Dare moved his lips over Regan’s, savoring the taste of her.
After Regan’s flirtatious display in the coach, Dare could think of nothing else but putting his hands on the brazen temptress. As he had followed her into the front hall, he had intended to head into the library. Distance and several brandies would certainly quell his desire for Regan, he had thought, and if his efforts had failed, then he could have always sated his unruly body with his hand.
Then Regan had glanced back and bid him “good evening,” her voice soft and her dark blue eyes vulnerable. The temptress had vanished. In her stead was the young woman who sometimes came to him in his dreams. The innocent he had vowed to protect, but never claim as his own. The one person he could never resist.
One kiss, Dare thought, and he would let her go.
Regan slid her palms against his chest, but she did not push him away when his lips lightly teased hers. In fact, she angled her head up, encouraging him.
Dare moaned against her mouth. How was he supposed to resist such sweetness? If Regan had an ounce of sense, she should be shoving him away and running for the door.
Instead, she parted those soft lips, silently offering herself up as a virginal sacrifice. Dare wanted to push Regan to the ground and bury himself in the softness between her thighs. His cock felt like a heavy iron bar in his trousers. He cupped Regan’s face with his hands and deepened their kiss, penetrating her lips with his tongue. Regan sighed and soon was mimicking the slick, gliding movements of his tongue. Mindlessly, Dare pulled her closer until his arousal was concealed by her skirt. He reached for one of her hands and started to guide it to his aching cock until he realized what he was doing.
The spell broken, Dare was the first to pull away. “Enough!” He gestured at the door. “You should retire to your bedchamber,” he said hoarsely.
Dare turned away, attempting to shield Regan from his lust, which was so blatantly defined under his trousers. Even with her unconventional upbringing with Frost as her guardian, Regan could not possibly understand what Dare wanted from her. That knowledge gave him strength to let her leave the room.
Regan did not move. “I would rather continue kissing you,” she said shyly.
Without glancing at her, Dare groaned and scrubbed his face with his hand. He had always known that he would succumb to some form of madness if he laid a hand on Regan.
“And I would prefer not to,” he lied. “Go to bed.”
“No.”
Dare glanced up at her refusal. He had not thought it possible, but Regan was even lovelier with her blue eyes glittering with anger and her red lips slightly swollen from his kisses.
“I am not a child, Dare,” Regan said, planting her fists into her hips as she swaggered toward him. “Nor are you my brother.”
“Thank Christ for that small favor,” he muttered, pretending not to hear her gasp of dismay.
He was destined for hell for his wicked intentions toward Regan.
Regan glared at him. “Furthermore—”
Dare could no longer bear it. “Enough, Regan, enough!” He whirled around and seized her wrist. Before she could pull away, he brought it the front of his trousers. “There, you see? I am bloody aware that you are not a child. Now leave me, or I will demonstrate what I do to shameless ladies who tease me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Regan stared down at the aspirations that she had written in her diary weeks before she had departed for London.
Bedevil Frost.
Fascinate the ton.
Seduce Dare.
All three laudable ambitions had seemed attainable until she had actually tried to carry them out. Frost was … well, Frost, after all. He seemed immune to her mischief, or remorseful about his decision to send her away with Lady Karmack. Regan had yet to fascinate anyone in the ton. Beauty and scandal held the ton’s fickle attention. It was a pity she did not possess enough of either.
And then there was Dare.
Regan could hardly seduce a man who was so determined to resist her. Nevertheless, he could not disguise his body’s response. Dare desired her, though he had made it clear in the drawing room that he had no intention of bedding her. He was too honorable to betray Frost by seducing the man’s younger sister.
Nor did she want Dare and Frost to come to blows because of her. Perhaps it would come as a surprise to Frost since her arrogant brother believed the sun would not set without his permission; however, Regan had not considered how Frost might react to her plan to seduce Dare. And why would she? Regan had grown up quietly watching Frost and the other members of the Lords of Vice fulfilling their needs and desires at whim.
Five years of structure and instruction at Miss Swann’s academy had not tamed her. Her years away had taught her patience and cunning, but no one could dilute what was in her blood. Regan closed her diary and slipped the small book in the drawer of her desk.
She collected her dark green cashmere shawl from the end of the bed as she headed for the door. Regan was not quite finished with Dare. She had a few more things to say to the stubborn gentleman before she retired for the evening.
* * *
Lying on the bed, Dare stirred from his thoughtful repose at the soft knock at the door. He braced himself on his elbows and scowled at the door. Regan would not be so foolhardy as to—
“Dare, are you awake?” she whispered.
He shut his eyes as he considered ignoring her summons. Of course Regan was on the other side. After all, she was Frost’s sister. The lady had picked up some of her brother’s reckless habits.
Dare glanced down at his half-dressed state. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned and the ends pulled out from his trousers. While he was not appropriately attired to receive guests, his modesty was intact as long as his cock behaved. Barefooted, he crossed the bedchamber and opened the door.
T
o his relief, Regan was still attired in the mulberry crepe and white satin dress that she had worn to the Deightons’ ball. She had even covered her bare shoulders with a green shawl. Like him, she had obviously been preparing for bed. Along with her jewelry, Regan’s gloves, shoes, and stockings had been removed. She had also taken the time to remove the pins and adornments from her hair.
Dare had never seen Regan’s hair unbound. Even as a child she had worn it in a braid. Her waist-length midnight-colored tresses were a glorious thick bounty that made his fingers itch for a chance to touch it.
“You should not be here, Regan.”
It took more than a few chilly words to deter a Bishop.
“Well, yes,” Regan said, looking past him. “I thought you might be a bit prudish about conversing in the passageway.” She rolled her eyes. “Appearances and all that.”
Dare hid his grin as he stepped aside and beckoned her to enter. “Frost will be pleased that you learned a thing or two at that fancy lady’s school he paid a small fortune for you to attend.”
“My brother does not concern himself with such trifles and you know it,” Regan said, walking into the bedchamber. “However, that is not why I have come. I never gave you an answer to your question.”
He closed the door and braced his back against it. “And this could not wait until breakfast?”
Curious, Regan went over to the dressing table and picked up the crumbled remains of his discarded cravat. She brought the starched linen to her nose and inhaled. The muscles in his abdomen tightened as Dare watched her set the folded linen aside.
Regan whirled away from his dressing table. “We could wait until morning. Frost will likely be highly amused by the notion that you were prepared to throttle Vane over a rather insignificant kiss.”
Regan did not seem to appreciate her importance to Frost. Her brother was not going to be amused by the evening’s mischief. Dare met her in the middle of the bedchamber. “I propose that we do not bore Frost with what happened at the Deightons’.”
After Dark with a Scoundrel Page 9
