She licked her lips, holding his gaze, and he inhaled sharply, his eyes closing for a long blink. When they reopened, his brow smoothed and his fists loosened.
She winked at him.
“Possibly the best yet,” Owen murmured with a last thumb swipe. “But not familiar. I’d wager this deliciousness belongs to a new guest.”
After Owen had completed his rounds, named who he could and received a score, Beth stepped out of the ring. She’d always enjoyed breast play and was disconcerted that she had not taken it at face value from a fun and attractive man. Instead, she’d needed to fantasize about a wallflower.
Deciding this mild obsession required further investigation, as did his leather goods, she sauntered toward him, taking in his stocky figure. Looking at his shoulders, his middle, his thighs, even his arms, the perception of strength resonated in her mind. He looked solid, prompting a wish to test her theory of whether those biceps really could indeed hold her against a wall.
His eyes and mouth were pinched as though he was nervous. As she approached, he blinked twice, looked behind him, then straightened as she stopped in front of him.
Bobbing a curtsy, she said, “Sir, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. But as nothing about this party is conventional, may I dare to offer my name for yours?”
Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips as she rose. “You are Beth Jenkins, cousin of Lady Althea Egerton, and friend of Penelope Wood.”
“Oh. Yes. Yes, I am.” She was taken aback until hope bloomed that he might know who she was because of an interest level that matched her own. “And you— Are you Robert Orford, friend of Lord Michael Slade and Cheltie?”
His lips quirked, and he slid fingers through his hair to comb it off his face. “Indeed I am.”
“’Tis lovely to meet you. I’ve heard delicious things about…” She hesitated as his dark eyes widened but could not restrain herself. “Er, your leather goods.”
His lips twisted, but he remained silent.
Wait, did he want me to have heard delicious things about him? Or is that simply my hope?
Frustrated at his unwillingness to actively participate in the conversation, she frowned. Was the man going to deflect every answer? She might yet have to go find Calf—Franklin. At the moment, though, she wished to learn about Robert more than she wanted the sexual adventures offered by the other guests, so she gave it one more try.
“Would you—” She ran a finger over her lower lip. “—play the next round with me?”
“No.” His answer was almost a grunt.
Her frown deepened.
“Er, no, thank you, Miss Jenkins.” He gave an abbreviated bow.
“I beg your pardon for disturbing you.”Another man less interested in me than I am with him, for godsakes. She turned to go, dropping her hand to her side. She’d play again anyway and damn his sensibilities.
“No.”
The urgency in his repeated response made her look over her shoulder at him.
“Don’t go. Please. I simply do not,” he waved a hand and his lip curled in a small sneer, “perform these games. I prefer my play to be private.”
“Oh.” She turned fully back around, gratified when his gaze flicked to her décolletage before returning to her face. “Would you prefer private play with me?”
There. No one could confuse her intentions now. Even this semi-mute handsome brute.
His eyes widened again, and he sucked in a breath.
Have I shocked him speechless? A friend of Cheltie’s? That seems unlikely.
She pursed her lips.
“One moment.” He signaled to the servant running the game that he was leaving, then offered Beth his arm.
She inhaled a faint scent of leather that she didn’t think was from his boots.
Slowing outside the ballroom, he asked, “Are you sure?” even as he clutched her hand on his arm.
