"You have me at a disadvantage. Unfair." He took a flute of champagne from a footman and placed it in her glovedhand.
Her delicious looking mouth curved in a polite line as she accepted the glass and raised it to him. "We must keep it that waythen."
Undaunted, he cocked a brow. "You have noname?"
"I have one that is immaterial toyou."
He chose not to consider her response rude, but teased her. "How do youknow?"
She chuckled. "Because we meet here only by chance. This once. Neveragain."
His eyes locked on hers. She denied him even the courtesy of introducing himself?Scandalous.Intriguing. "I could ask about. Learn your name. Your age. Your father's and grandfather's birthdateand—"
"My husband'stoo?"
That gave him pause. Married. He never stole other men's wives. Not even for one night. "I wish to compliment you on your wonderful laugh. I overheard you as you talked with that gentlemanthere."
"Thank you. I believe it's important to laugh fully, cry until you're sick...and to avoid dangerousmen."
All humor had drained from her large fathomless eyes. Then, she'd put her glass to his for a brief click and had left him where he stood.Mesmerized.
The priest droned on with more of the Catholic weddingservice.
Killian winced, focusing on how lovely his niece Marianne was in her pearl-encrusted gown thatMonsieurWorth's staff had hurried to sew in three weeks'time.
Next to him, Lily leaned a bit toward her husband. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Julian who took herhand.
"Are you well?" Killian asked hisdaughter.
"Light-headed. My apologies,Papa."
The service required that they take the kneelers. "I think you should rest. Go straight back to Boulevard Haussmann and liedown."
"And miss Marianne's and Remy's wedding breakfast?" She stared at him as if he'd grown two heads. "Never."
He patted herarm.
To Killian’s left, his younger daughter Ada leaned forward and arched her brows. "What's wrong with Lily?" shemouthed.
"Excitement," heoffered.
Ada shot him one of her cat-ate-the-cream looks. "Pregnant."
Killian blinked. At eighteen, his youngest chick could be tooprecocious.
She rolled her eyes athim.
He winked at her. She had predicted this months ago, soon after Lily and Julian were married. Whenever this conception had occurred, he did not care for a date, only that his daughter and her child behealthy.
The organ music swelled and the congregation rose to their feet. The priest offered a few more words and Marianne and her new husband faced the one hundred assembled guests in the Church of St. Paul and St. Louis. His niece who had weathered the ravages of the civil war in Virginia and who had endured marriage to a petulant, irascible man, had remained a widow for too many years. Here in Paris, she'd found enchantment with a Frenchman who was a duke and a prince of the realm and above all, utterly devoted to her. Marianne—bright, blonde and thirty years old—beamed like a first-time bride at those in the congregation. Her husband—exuberant and a breaker of all kinds of rules—swept her up into his arms and carried her down theaisle.
Grinning, Killian turned to watch themgo.
And his eyes met those of the woman with noname.
She was laughing. That same melodic peel of joy that had caught him spellbound months ago lured himagain.
She stopped. Her magnetic gaze flowed from his to his hair and his lips and back to dwell softly in hiseyes.
Madam, whoever you are, you must not tempt me likethis.
As if she'd heard him, she glanced away. Her lashes fluttered. Confusion had her regarding the newlyweds as they passed her. But once they were gone, she stole another glimpse ofKillian.
He was ready for her. Their gazes held anddelved.
Ah, my dear lady, this time you will not deter me from knowing you. Fascinations are, like your laughter,uncontrollable.
