“We knew she’d be here.”
“But . . . I’m not ready. I’m not composed.”
Unchecked, his gaze wandered eagerly over her body, and he swallowed. “You appear composed.” He would not mention the blush in her cheeks or the rapid pace of her breathing.
“I thought I was, but then you glared at me, clearly disapproving of my gown and this dress was supposed to be my armor, and yet I feel naked—”
“I beg your pardon,” he growled, stepping closer to her. “Do not utter the wordnakedin my hearing—or anyone’s hearing.”
She glowered at him. “Metaphorically speaking, I feel vulnerable. Is that better, you prudish ninny?”
He tugged at his cravat and stepped away from her. “What would you like to do?”
“I just need a moment to gather myself.” She drew in a breath.
Graham glanced away, needing to look at anything but the rosy blush spreading down her neck and her chest.
“I’m ready.”
She lifted her chin. Her hand slipped around his elbow, and he braced himself for her touch and nearness. Her perfume floated toward him, an invisible hook that snared him and drew him closer as he inhaled deep. Sultry and sweet, like burnt sugar. His body locked up as he fought his arousal.
She cast him a peeved sideways glance. “There is no need to look so sullen.”
“This is how I always look,” he gritted out.
“Yes, but could you perhaps try to appear, I don’t know, pleased to be engaged to me? Just a little. Nothing to ruffle your starched sensibilities.”
Familiar, vague annoyance overtook the clawing lust inside him, and he let out a breath of relief. “It might arouse suspicion if I change my character now.”
“Perhaps others might think you’re happy. For once. For the first time? Did you come out of the womb frowning?”
He smiled. “Is this better?”
“No. That smile is not at all natural and is quite sinister. Please stop.”
His lips twitched, but he held back his genuine smile at her words. “Then what do you want me to do?”
“At the very least, seem bored rather than disagreeable. People often misinterpret boredom as sophisticated aloofness.”
“Spectacular. Like this?” He raised a sardonic brow and slowly peered around the crowded drawing room.
“Yes. Perfect.”
“Why don’t we find refreshment? Some wine might soothe your fears.”
“I’m not drinking wine.”
“I’m fairly certain I’ve seen you drink wine before.”
“Not tonight.”
“Why not?” Graham asked.
“I want to keep my wits about me and not blurt anymore proposals in panic, preferably.” She shrugged one shoulder, and the motion dragged his attention back to her supple cleavage. He ripped his focus away. She continued grudgingly. “I’ll have to endure tonight with only lemonade and remain woefully sober.”
“My condolences.” He led her to the table and accepted a tumbler of whisky. She might not be partaking, but he would need the courage to get through this night. Something to dull his senses and the allure of her warm body.
Bloody hell. He had to put an end to this madness. There was absolutely nothing remotely romantic or compulsory between them. This was only lust—unbridled, neglected lust. And only on his side. She was a beautiful woman and he’d gone too long without feminine company, and this was the result. He just had to endure. Their close proximity made these feelings all the more tangible. That was all. There was nothing between them. Nothing.
