Rafael chuckled. "I think my amigo may have won the honors tonight for his prowess in battle."
"I think," said Kyra, "you are both the most wonderful heroes in the world."
Woof.
He tipped up her chin. This time, his embrace was long and leisurely.
"Nothing is sweeter than your kiss," she murmured as their lips feathered apart.
"Not even my chocolate confections?" he asked with a zephyr-soft laugh.
"No," she said decisively. "Not even chocolate."
"I shall not argue the point." Twining his fingers with hers, he glanced up at the sky. "But much as I would like to prolong our intimacies, we had better return to the Manor. It's getting close to midnight, and I have been promised a special waltz."
Chapter 18
"Aren't you worried?" Harriet paused in pacing the perimeter of the rear parlor to peer out the window. "Lud, do you think—"
"Never fear," counseled Jack, though his face betrayed a trace of worry. "I saw the look in Rafe's eyes before he raced off. He'll rescue Kyra if he has to fight the Devil himself to win her back."
"Right-ho," agree Theo in an unsteady voice.
"Surely there must be something we can do?" muttered Harriet. "I hate feeling helpless."
The three of them had slipped away from the festivities to confer among themselves on whether any stone had been left unturned.
"For now, we had best let Rafe fight the enemy while we battle to keep the guests from asking too many questions," replied Jack. "Though for now, it looks like we've managed to quash any speculation."
"That was quite clever of you to think of using a lost dog as a reason for Kyra's absence. And the fact that Rafael is helping her and the gardeners search for the him," said Theo.
"Yes," agreed Harriet. "But if they do not return... There is only so long that the explanation will appear plausible."
"Let us not look for trouble," advised Jack. "It is having an easy enough time finding us as it is." He glanced at the mantel clock. "Speaking of time, my abject apologies for forgetting my earlier obligations. I've reneged on my invitation to dance the first two waltzes with me."
"It doesn't matter," said Theo quickly. "We all had far more important things on our minds."
"Dancing with the most alluring ladies of the ball is very important," countered Jack. Catching Harriet's tiny nod at her friend, he bowed to Theo. "Midnight is approaching and the last waltz of the night will herald in the new day. Will you consent to partner me?"
"B-b-but..."
"No buts—our appearance on the dance floor will help distract from the fact that Kyra is still missing."
"You can ask any of the London belles here, and they would be more than happy to help you create a distraction."
Jack winked and offered her his arm. "But I'd rather ask you."
Harriet reluctantly pushed back from the window. "If there is no sign of them by morning, what should—"
"Did you hear that?" interrupted Theo. "It sounded like a bark."
They all went silent.
"There it is again," she whispered.
Whirling around, Harriet pressed her nose to the glass. "Something is moving in the shadows of the garden walkway." A pause. "Oh, thank Heavens—it's Hero!"
Theo flew to her side. "And there is Kyra and Mr. Greeley." She started to giggle. "But given the state of their clothing, I don't think they will be taking their place on the dance floor."
"You ladies are not quite as well-acquainted with Kyra as I am." Jack grinned. "Let us hurry. I wouldn't miss this grand entrance for all the tea in China!"
* * *
"I can't appear at the highlight waltz of evening looking like something the cat dragged backwards through a bramble bush," protested Kyra. She paused on the terrace, listening to the sounds of laughter and clinking crystal float out through the arched windows. Through the leaded panes, she could see that the ballroom was ablaze with a myriad candles, the brilliant flickers illuminating the colorful whirl of silks and glittering jewels.
"You've never looked more lovely," said Rafael, picking a twig out of her hair. "And besides, we can blame it on the dog."
Hero sat back on his haunches and pricked up his ears.
"We'll send Hero in first." The hound's scraggly fur was still damp and matted with weeds and mud. "No one will think to quibble over a few rips or streaks on your silk."
"You're impossibly mad," she murmured, watching the starlight sparkle like dancing diamonds on the tips of his dark lashes. "And impossibly wonderful."
His smile took another sinuous little curl. "Hero deserves some of your Cook's special liver pate. And you and I deserve a glass of champagne." He held out his hand. "Shall we?"
She let out a soft laugh. "I think that at this moment, I would say yes if you suggested we fly to the moon on silver-winged unicorns."
"No unicorns," he murmured. "Just me and a smelly dog to escort you into the ballroom."
Their fingers entwined. "Fairie tale enchantments are all very well, but the real magic is right here beside me."
"Lead the way, amigo," said Rafael with a wave at the hound.
Tail wagging, Hero made for the French doors of the side saloon and nosed them open. He sniffed the air expectantly, then trotted straight through the entrance foyer leading into the ballroom.
A few shrieks sounded as he brushed past a gaggle of turbaned matrons, but after a moment of shocked silence, a wave of laughter rolled through the crush of guests. Claws clicking on the polished parquet, the hound gamboled around in a ragged circle in the middle of the dance floor before catching the scent of the supper room and racing for the side door.
"Be sure to fix our four-footed friend a large plate of pate and beefsteak," said Rafael to one of the liveried footmen. "He's had a very eventful evening and deserves it." Taking two flutes of champagne from the fellow's tray before he hurried off, Rafael handed one to Kyra. "A toast," he murmured. "To the future, my love, now that the past will never come back to haunt you."
Lifting her glass, Kyra looked over the rim into his blue eyes, their sapphirine hue glittering in the candlelight, beckoning her to leave all darkness behind her.
"To the future," she repeated.
"Ah, there you are my dear!" The duke made his way through the crowd paused to survey the smiling couple. "I see you have found your Hero," he added, a mischievous twinkle coming to life in his eyes.
"Yes, I have, Papa." Her lips quirked. "It wasn't easy, but Mr. Greeley was kind enough—and patient enough—to offer his assistance. I couldn't have done it without him."
"My heartfelt thanks, sir," said her father loudly. "And how fortuitous that the two of you made it back in time for the midnight revelries." His brows rose ever so slightly. "I have a special surprise announcement to make—I am sure that you and my daughter would have been very disappointed to miss it."
"Very, Your Grace," agreed Rafael with a straight face. "Perhaps you could show me to a private parlor where I might brush the worst of the dust from my clothing."
"An excellent suggestion. Follow me."
"I'll fetch a bowl of water and a towel." Jack cut a path through the sea of smiling faces for Harriet and Theo. "You appear to have bloodied your knuckles."
Rafael flexed a fist. "So I have. But no lasting damage done—to my hand, that is."
Jack grinned. "I'm delighted to hear it." To the musicians seated in the gallery he added, "We shall be back in a trice. Don't you dare start the music without us."
"I am sure you would like to freshen up as well," murmured Harriet. "Though I must say, that's a very pretty hue of moss clinging to your hem."
"Harry," hissed Theo. "She looks lovely just as she is."
"Of course she does—love makes any lady beautiful beyond words." Harriet hooked her arm through Kyra's and lowered her voice to a whisper. "But if we retire to the withdrawing room, we can hear all about the evening while we pluck off the ferns stuck to the back of her skirts."
Theo's face split into a wide grin. "Oh, right-ho. Can't spin through an engagement waltz with ferns clinging to your derriere."
* * *
Rafael watched Kyra return from the salon corridor, flanked by her two beaming friends. The candles in the chandeliers still flickered just as before in the night breeze, and yet the room seemed suffused with an ethereal golden glow. Glancing upward at the vaulted decorative ceiling, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Dona Maria. It was, he knew, her sweet confections that had helped to rekindle Kyra's appetite for life.
And my own.
Jack nudged his arm. "You're a damn lucky fellow—I hope you know that."
He smiled.
"And if you ever forget it, it's your nose that will be bloodied."
Kyra leaned in to exchange a whisper with Harriet and both of them laughed. He felt his heart lurch and thump against his ribs. "No danger of that, Jack."
The candles flickered overhead, and for a moment his cousin looked a little pensive. But before he could say more, the duke climbed up to the musician's gallery and held up a hand for silence.
The guests stilled in anticipation.
"As you know, I've promised the announcement of an engagement."
Glances darted between Kyra and Jack, then lingered on Rafael.
Clearly enjoying himself, the duke let the pause draw out.
"Don't keep us in suspense, Your Grace," called out one of his neighbors.
Pierpont chuckled. "Very well. I am happy—nay, I am absolutely delighted—to announce that Hendrie's nephew, Mr. Greeley, has asked for my dear daughter's hand in marriage, and she has accepted."
A cheer went up.
"And so, I propose a toast." The duke raised a bottle and popped the cork, much to everyone's amusement as foam fizzed up, wetting his cheeks. "To... To..."
"To family and friends—and to love, the force that ties us all together," suggested Jack.
"Since when did that young jackanape become a poet?" quipped Pierpont, eliciting another round of laughter.
In response, Jack signaled the orchestra to strike up the music. "I can summon some semblance of civilized behavior on occasion." He took Theo's hand and led her out to the dance floor. A second gesture beckoned Rafael and Kyra to come to take their place on the center rosette. They were quickly followed by the duke, with Harriet as his partner.
As the first chords of the music rose to fill the room, Rafael drew Kyra close, reveling in the warmth emanating from her being. "Nothing in this world," he breathed, "is sweeter than having you in my arms."
"Your kiss comes close." Kyra smiled. "So does your champagne truffle."
"On second thought..." He leaned in to press his lips to her cheek. "We may have to explore a number of different sensations before coming to a final conclusion."
Laughter pooled in her eyes, along with an undercurrent of passion that made his pulse begin to pound. "I look forward to that, my love. More than words can say."
The End
Want more from Andrea Pickens?
Page forward for an excerpt from
DEVIL MAY CARE
The Dangerous Liaisons Series
Book Three
Excerpt from
Devil May Care
The Dangerous Liaisons Series
Book Three
by
Andrea Pickens
Award-winning Author
.
Miss Harriet Farnum peered out the carriage window as the wheels rolled to a halt. "It's the usual schedule for this week's meeting, Ellie. Meet me back here in two hours."
Her maid nodded, though a shadow of unease flitted over her face. "Your father would have my guts for garters if he knew I let you hare off in these parts by yourself."
"No he wouldn't," she assured, stretching the truth just a tad. "He knows that I'm capable of looking out for myself." A diplomat's daughter who had experienced a number of exceedingly rough-and-tumble places during her foreign travels, Harriet had little patience with the rules of Polite Society. Unlike most well-bred ladies, she chafed at the restrictions requiring her to live within a gilded cage. "And besides, he accepted that I have a mind of my own and there's little point in trying to stop me from doing something which I am determined to do."
Ellie repressed a snort. "Aye, I'm well aware of that. But he expects me to exercise some degree of restraint."
"No he doesn't." Harriet flashed a grin, then took another glance up and down the narrow street before passing over a purse to her maid. "You and John Coachman go enjoy the strawberry ices at Gunter's. I shall see you later."
"You're too generous by half, Miss Harriet," murmured Ellie with a reluctant smile. But as the door latch clicked open, a spasm of concern pinched at the corners of her mouth. "Please be careful. All sorts of dangers lurk in this city, and you... well, you are not invincible."
Harriet paused and raised her brows. "Lud, what prompted that?"
"I dunno." Her maid made a face. "Just a queer feeling here." She pressed a hand to her stomach.
A laugh slipped from Harriet's lips. "That's because your breadbox is longing for Gunter's sweets." She quickly descended to the street and made a shooing gesture. "Now be off. And don't fret."
As the carriage lurched away over the rough cobbles, she drew in a deep breath, savoring the sense of freedom along with the less edifying scents of the surroundings. Modest townhouses lined the perimeter of the square, the crumbling stone and shabby facades a testament that the once-elegant area had seen better days. Her friend, an aging spinster who was working to improve the lot of the poor women in the area, resided in one of the narrow building on the far side of the central garden. The two of them had met at series of lectures on Mary Wollstonecraft's essays, and despite the difference in age had formed a bond over shared intellectual interests. That Lady Catherine possessed an earthy sense of humor and a fascinating—and slightly outrageous—circle of acquaintances made her weekly gatherings for tea and talking about ideas for social reform even more intriguing.
The topic for the upcoming discussion was educational opportunities for girls, and as she hurried through the rusting garden gate and cut around the unpruned boxwood hedge to the gravel walkway, Harriet let her mind race over the ideas that had been percolating in her head. Schools ought to teach mathematics and the natural sciences, like astro—
Whomp.
The collision would have knocked her on her derriere, had not a strong pair of male arms arrested her backward fall.
"Charging in where angels should fear to tread?"
Harriet fumbled to straighten the brim of her bonnet, though she didn't need to see the speaker's face to know who it was. Viscount Leete's drawling sarcasm was... unique.
A friend of her older brother since their schoolboy days at Eton, Jack had spent many a term break at her family's home over the years. More recently, they had both played a role in helping his cousin win the hand of Lady Kyra Sterling. As usual, they had engaged in more than their share of verbal sparring. Jack seemed to bring out...
A last tug finally shifted the chipstraw back into place, allowing an unobstructed view of the smirk curled on his handsome mouth. Nettled, Harriet was roused to retort. "Apparently even mere mortals are in peril with the likes of you charging hell for leather around the city.
"Moi?" Jack looked down his aristocratic nose. "I was merely walking at a sedate pace. It was you who was barreling along like a bat out of Hades."
Sunlight speared through the windblown tangle of his long hair, setting off a winking of dark and bright, like diamonds dancing over polished ebony. Her breath momentarily seemed to catch in her throat. To clear it, she quickly demanded, "Which begs the question—what are you doing in Red Lion Square?"
"I'm meeting someone," he answered curtly.
A lady, no doubt. And given the environs, likely one of dubious morals, thought Harriet.
"And you?" he added.
"The same."
Jack
considered the answer, and for an instant, a mischievous glint lit in his eyes. "One of your radical causes?"
"Yes." That he found it amusing irked her. "A group of like-minded females are meeting to discuss the inequalities we face in Society."
He gave a mock shudder. "I don't know how you do it—I'd rather face a saber-wielding regiment of Death's Head Hussars than have to think that hard!"
The light shifted, and for an instant, it accentuated the dark circles under his eyes and the fine lines of dissipation radiating out from the corners of his mouth.
"So you would rather engage in mindless revelries that will likely kill you just as surely as sharpened steel?"
Jack's jaw hardened, but he remained uncharacteristically silent.
"After being given a second chance at life," she went on, "you ought to take care to make the most of it."
"Thank you for the advice," he said with exaggerated politeness. "I know I can always count on you to be pragmatic and rational."
"Quite right—I'm stick-in-the-mud Harriet." She felt a flush rise to her cheeks. "It seems a lady is damned if she uses her brain and damned if she doesn't."
"I-I didn't mean it as an insult," he muttered.
"Of course you did," she replied tartly. "I'm outspoken and opinionated. Men find that abhorrent."
The last vestiges of mirth gave way to an expression... an expression she couldn't begin to fathom. "I'm not sure men have the slightest idea of what they want," murmured Jack.
Harriet was surprised by the note of wistfulness shading the ironic quip. Or perhaps it was only a figment of her own imagination. Either way, it left her feeling unsettled.
"I had better be going, else I'll be late," she said brusquely.
"Moi aussi," he murmured.
Jack was speaking French? Knowing the wartime ordeal he had been through, she wasn't sure whether that boded well or not for his current state of mind. Not that his behavior should be any concern of hers.
Confused, she simply gave a vague wave and turned to continue on to Lady Catherine's townhouse.
Sweeter Than Sin Page 19
