To Romance a Charming Rogue tcw-4

by Nicole Jordan

  “This is significantly better,” he remarked when they stepped out onto a balcony overlooking the side gardens. “The night air is much cooler here.”

  Eleanor murmured her agreement. She was comfortable in her short-sleeved ball gown, in part because she wore long kidskin gloves that covered her arms, but also because the mid-September evening was unseasonably mild.

  “In my country our young ladies are not permitted to be alone with a man,” Lazzara observed. “It makes courting rather difficult.”

  His voice had dropped a level and held a husky undertone, she realized. Eleanor glanced up at him, seeing that his handsome features were illuminated by dim moonlight.

  “In my country, the rules are not quite as strict,” she replied, wondering if he intended to kiss her. He had a rakish reputation after all. But reluctant to leave the outcome solely to him, she lifted her face slightly, offering silent encouragement.

  He did not seem to need further invitation. Bending his head, Lazzara pressed his mouth to hers.

  His lips were full and soft and unaccountably… tame, Eleanor thought, unable to suppress her disappointment. She had expected the prince to be more assertive, at least. He was treating her like a fragile blossom, nothing like the way Damon treated her when he kissed her-

  Irked that she would be thinking of Damon when she was being embraced by another man-and even more irked that she was not enjoying the prince's kiss as she should-she raised her hands to his shoulders and offered her mouth more fully…

  Just then she heard a throat being cleared behind them, her first indication that someone else had joined them on the balcony. The prince broke off abruptly at the intrusion, while Eleanor tried to keep hold of her composure.

  She would have known it was Damon by the way her senses reacted to his lazy drawl, even before she comprehended his actual words. “So this is the latest utilization of your advice book on capturing a husband, Lady Eleanor? What chapter does a romantic tryst belong in?”

  Her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, she turned to find Damon leaning one broad shoulder against the door frame.

  “Tsk, tsk, my lady,” he added, his tone lightly admonishing. “Whatever would your proper aunt say?”

  Her aunt would likely be delighted, Eleanor reflected with frustration, although she could not possibly say so in front of the prince.

  At a loss for words, she settled for giving Damon a quelling frown. But he went on just as if he were not interfering where he most certainly wasn't wanted. “Fortunately I discovered you first. You would not wish to be caught in a compromising position with Prince Lazzara, or you might be forced into a union you both might regret.”

  Although the prince had stiffened, he recovered before Eleanor did. As if to shield her, he stepped toward Damon-then grimaced as his weight landed on his injured leg. Making use of his cane, he raised himself to his full height and tried to stare down his nose regally at Damon.

  The effect was not quite as imposing as the prince wished, since he was not as tall as the Englishman. But there was no mistaking the tension in the air when he announced curtly, “I doubt I would regret such a union. It would not be a hardship, being wed to so lovely a lady.”

  Damon's gaze shifted to the prince, looking him up and down. “Perhaps you weren't aware, your highness, that I have a prior claim to Lady Eleanor.”

  Eleanor drew a sharp breath at that patent falsehood, while Lazzara's jaw hardened. “The signorina seems to disagree.”

  “Indeed I do,” she said quickly. “Lord Wrexham has no claim to me whatsoever.” She fixed Damon with a censorious stare of her own. “Pray oblige us by taking your leave, my lord.”

  He looked at her a long moment while Eleanor glowered at him. “Very well, love, but don't tarry out here too long. You don't want to give the wags cause for gossip.”

  With that, Damon turned on his heel and exited the balcony, leaving Eleanor mortified and fuming.

  Before she could think of what to say, however, the prince spoke first.

  “Forgive me, I should not have taken advantage of you as I did,” he offered.

  For some absurd reason, his apology only vexed her further. Damon would not have apologized for that limp effort at lovemaking, nor claimed to be taking advantage of her when she had willingly participated. But then the prince's manners clearly were far more gentlemanly. She should not take her ire out on him when the real culprit at arousing her temper was an interfering rogue.

  Eleanor managed a smile. “There is nothing to forgive, your highness. But perhaps we should return to the ball before our absence is noted.”

  Prince Lazzara nodded in agreement. “Yes. Please go ahead without me, however. I believe I will remain here for a while longer to enjoy the cooler temperatures.”

  He still looked flushed, she noted with sympathy.

  With a polite curtsy, Eleanor left him on the balcony and stepped through the doors, into the ballroom. Not to her surprise, Damon awaited her inside in the shadow of the potted palms. Far from resenting his presence, though, she welcomed it, since she was eager to do battle with him.

  “What the devil do you mean, embarrassing me in that horrid fashion?” Eleanor hissed in a fierce undertone.

  Damon seemed unrepentant. “Did you honestly expect me to stand idly by, knowing you were trying your hand at seducing him?”

  “I was not attempting to seduce him.”

  “But you were kissing him.”

  “Even so, it is no concern of yours! You have no claim to me.”

  “One could argue that point,” Damon drawled. “I feel a certain measure of protectiveness because of our past history, if nothing else. And you overestimate my powers of restraint if you think I can control my jealousy.”

  Eleanor's scowl deepened. “You have no right to be jealous.”

  “Then perhaps you should thank me for arousing his jealousy. What better way to kindle his desire for you?”

  “I most certainly will not thank you,” Eleanor retorted. “I am not a bone for two dogs to fight over.”

  She stood there glaring daggers at him. Yet Damon met her gaze without flinching, his own eyes full of heat and challenge.

  Just then the strains of a waltz filled the ballroom. Before she could utter a word of protest, he stepped closer and took her in his arms.

  “I may not be able to claim your hand in marriage, but I am claiming this dance.”

  Even though Eleanor tried to pull back, Damon would not release her. The very air was crackling between them, but she had no choice but to allow him to sweep her past the palms and onto the ballroom floor among the other dancers.

  “I wish you would go to Hades,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “I will take your wishes under consideration, but you know I don't take well to being dismissed.”

  Eleanor clamped her lips shut. Damon riled her to no end, which was doubtless his intent. Therefore, she resolved to deny him the satisfaction of getting any further under her skin.

  When she refused to respond to his taunt, his own expression became milder. “Smile, love. You don't wish the company to see us at loggerheads.”

  “I don't wish them to see us dancing together, either.”

  “But short of causing a scene, you cannot stalk off the floor.”

  “Your effrontery is boundless,” she grated, forgetting her resolve.

  “I won't contradict you. For now I will simply relish the pleasure of dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

  “If you are trying to mollify me, you infuriating scoundrel, I promise you it will not work.”

  For a moment she lapsed into simmering silence. Then growing more conscious of the countless pairs of eyes watching them, Eleanor focused her attention on the steps of the waltz and tried not to admire Damon's natural grace as he swung her to the rhythm of the lilting music.

  “Come, admit it,” he said after a time. “You enjoy sparring with me.”

  “You are laboring
under a serious misapprehension, my lord,” Eleanor retorted, even though she knew her reply for a lie. There was nothing more exhilarating than sparring with Damon, except perhaps kissing him.

  He drew back a little to survey her face. “I'll wager your conversations with your prince are not nearly as enjoyable as ours. You did not seem to be very enthusiastic earlier when you were relegated to the sidelines with him. In truth, you looked rather bored.”

  “I was having a perfectly delightful time before you appeared.”

  “Is that so?” Damon looked dubious. “I confess I don't understand his appeal. I would not have expected you to be attracted to that tame man-milliner.”

  “Prince Lazzara is nothing of the kind,” Eleanor asserted firmly, even though she was beginning to have her own doubts.

  “Then what do you see in him?”

  “He is charming and intelligent for one thing, not boring in the least. Moreover he has exquisite manners, unlike certain other noblemen of my acquaintance,” she added pointedly, staring at Damon.

  “Are you physically attracted to him?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Why?”

  “He is quite handsome.”

  “In a pretty sort of way, I'll grant you.”

  “He has beautiful eyes.”

  “So do I.”

  Although amusement tinged his voice, it was said without a modicum of modesty-yet Eleanor could not refute him. Damon's piercing dark eyes, with their heavy fringe of lashes, were an attribute that keenly appealed to her. The prince's eyes were more soulful, but they couldn't fire her blood the way a mere look from Damon could do.

  And when it came to comparing the two men's physical appeal, there was no contest; Damon won hands down. His vitality, his sheer masculinity, melted her. The mere sound of his voice excited her, for it reminded her of those heady days and nights of their courtship.

  Even so, Eleanor arched an eyebrow. “You do not need me to fan the flames of your conceit, Lord Wrex-ham.”

  He flashed her a charming smile. “True. I know very well how my charms attract you.”

  Ignoring the scoffing sound she made, Damon guided her expertly through a knot of dancers, which proved to be a tight squeeze. For a brief moment they came together so that they pressed against each other. When Eleanor felt Damon's body hard and warm against hers, her heart missed a beat, while a shiver of raw sensation ran down her spine.

  As if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her, his eyes turned heavy-lidded, and he bent closer to murmur in her ear, “I doubt your prince arouses you the way I do.”

  His suggestive tone made Eleanor instantly recall two nights ago in her bedchamber, how Damon's wicked mouth had lovingly teased and fondled her nipples. Just thinking about him kissing her bare breasts again was enough to make her knees weak.

  Eleanor silently muttered an invective. How she resented him for making her feel this way! With her past beaux, she had always felt in control, but she never had the slightest control with Damon.

  She pressed her lips together, then said stiffly, “I know you are deliberately trying to fluster me.”

  “Am I succeeding? Are you flustered, sweet Elle?”

  “You are utterly impossible.”

  With a disgusted sigh, she stopped dancing, intending to break away from him, but Damon inexorably urged her back into the movement of the dance. “Remember, love, you do not want to create a spectacle.”

  Eleanor forced herself to take a calming breath, realizing the wisdom of his reminder. “You needn't worry. A lady does not do a gentleman bodily harm in public, no matter how galling the provocation.”

  “You have no desire to be a lady all the time.”

  His comment gave her pause as a sudden thought struck her. She paused for a long moment before saying slowly, “Perhaps you are right.”

  “About what?”

  “About my desire to be a lady.”

  When Damon glanced down at her quizzically, Eleanor savored the feeling of having puzzled him.

  Perhaps she had been going about this all wrong, she realized. Whenever she became flustered and riled, Damon only used her weakness to his advantage. But she was weary of always allowing him the upper hand, of constantly being on the defensive.

  It was time she took the reins back into her own hands, Eleanor decided.

  “If I recall correctly,” she mused aloud in a thoughtful tone, “Lady Haviland's library is on the floor below, at the rear of the house. No one will be occupying it during a ball.”

  “So?” Damon asked somewhat cautiously as the waltz came to an end.

  “So, I think you should meet me in the library ten minutes from now.”

  Although naturally a lady must remain within the bounds of propriety, rousing his desire for you should be one of your chief aims. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…

  The lower floor of Lady Haviland's mansion appeared deserted to Eleanor as she made her way down a corridor to the library. But that was to be expected since the ball guests were occupied with en joying the entertainments offered upstairs, while the servants were busy seeing to the company or preparing the late supper that would be served in a few hours.

  Damon was waiting for her as promised, she saw when she stepped into the room. The draperies had been drawn, and he had lit a lamp so that the library was bathed in a warm glow.

  Quietly Eleanor shut the door and pressed her back against it, deploring how her pulse leapt at the sight of him. Damon was standing before the cold hearth, one hand casually resting on the mantel as he watched her with deceptive idleness. Yet she expected he was feeling far from casual.

  At least she was feeling far from casual. For a moment she stood there unmoving, willing the giddy, fluttering sensation in her stomach to dissolve while questioning the prudence of her impulsive decision to go on the offensive. He thought he could end her pursuit of Prince Lazzara by sheer force of his seductive personality, but she intended to foil Damon's machinations and give him a taste of his own medicine at the same time. She would fluster and arouse him while she remained in control and completely unaffected-which might prove difficult, judging by her body's reaction to his mere perusal. She felt his gaze like heat on her skin as he waited for her to speak first.

  “So what is the purpose of your invitation, sweeting?” he asked when she remained silent.

  “I told you, I am weary of always acting the lady. I intend to behave a little scandalously for a change.”

  His slashing black eyebrows rose a measure. “There are three hundred guests in the house in addition to an army of servants.”

  Eleanor nodded. She could hear the refrains of music and the far-off din of voices chattering and laughing, yet she was completely alone with Damon, and she meant to keep it that way.

  Turning to lock the door, she glanced provocatively over her shoulder at him. “I doubt we will be discovered, but the risk we are taking only adds to the titil-lation. Of course, if you are afraid, we can call off the whole thing…”

  She let her voice trail away as her hand remained resting on the key, suggesting her willingness to unlock the door if he wished her to.

  Damon's slow, enchanting smile made her heart jump. “I am not in the least afraid. I only thought you would be.”

  She couldn't let him affect her this way, Eleanor scolded herself. She needed to hold on to her resolve and her resentment if she had any hope of success just now.

  With renewed determination, she crossed the library to Damon, standing so close that she could feel the heat of his skin through their clothing. Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in his silky mane of hair and lifted her face to his, letting her warm breath taunt his lips.

  But when he started to draw her into his arms, Eleanor stepped back quickly, pressing a hand against his chest to forestall him.

  “No, you cannot touch me,” she said, keeping her tone light. “I cannot leave here with my hair or my gown disheveled.”

  Moreover, she wan
ted to be completely in charge. For once she wanted to unsettle him, to see him lose his legendary poise. He knew how to reduce her to trembling submission, and she meant to do the same to him-not to mention making him regret interfering in her romantic affairs.

  She gestured at the brocade sofa at one side of the library. “Why don't you make yourself comfortable?”

  When he obliged her by sitting down, she moved to stand before Damon, then knelt on the Aubusson carpet at his feet, to his evident surprise.

  With a faint smile, she slipped off his silver-buckled evening pumps and set them aside, admiring his well-muscled calves covered by white silk stockings. Then she surprised him further by easing herself between his spread thighs.

  “Just what do you have in mind, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice holding a husky edge.

  “You will see all in good time,” Eleanor replied. “You must cultivate a little patience.”

  When she lightly licked her lips, he followed the seductive movement avidly with his gaze. As he watched, she raised her hand and touched her fingers to his lips, then trailed them down his throat, along his lace cravat, then lower to the buttons of his coat. Unfastening those, she pushed aside the lapels and opened his waistcoat as well, exposing his fine cambric shirt.

  Placing her hand on his chest, Eleanor could feel his heart pounding hard where her palm lay. Then, with her own heart thudding in nervous anticipation, she slowly grazed her hand downward to his flat abdomen to hover over his loins.

  Damon was watching her with intent focus, no doubt wondering how far she would go.

  “You make an alluring temptress, bright-eyes,” he murmured when she hesitated, “but do you have any idea what you are about?”

  Her mouth curled playfully. “Truthfully, no. I have learned some things from my friends who are married and from you yourself. I know you grow hard when we are kissing, and that it is painful for you when you cannot find relief-”

  “Indeed, extremely painful,” Damon supplied.

  “-but otherwise, I have little experience in carnal matters. I suspect you will need to tell me what to do.”

  A glimmer of humor shone in his eyes. “Your book does not advise you?”