“You’ll find her an uncomfortable chick.”
“Why say that?”
“She has a mind of her own.”
“So do I.”
“Yes.” He came toward her. “What’s in your mind, Ariana? Why are you here?”
The closer he came, the more her heart pounded, and not entirely with fear. “I told you. Concern.”
He was in front of her then, eyes meeting hers. “You thought I’d be drowning in brandy.”
“Yes.”
“Only to escape. Tonight was my first ball in a long time.”
“Assembly,” she corrected, numbed by his being soclose. His lips so close, and the intimate smell of him weaving through her senses. “Because of mourning.”
He touched her cheek, light as a feather, so that in the dimness she couldn’t be sure he had touched her at all. Then he touched his lips to hers, as featherlight and ethereal, but with fiery power.
“Why?” she breathed.
“A farewell kiss. A Judas kiss.”
“I see no betrayal.”
“Perhaps an ambush. Be on guard.”
“Against you?”I’d give you everything, here, now, if you asked for it....
“I pray not.” He stepped back. “I’ll pose no danger to you, Lady Ariana.”
“I fear none,” she said, wishing for the courage to pursue, to capture. And yet she sensed he’d resist, to the death even. “Do you fear death?” she demanded. “Is that the problem?”
He spoke so softly that she could hardly hear him. “I’d welcome death.”
“A pistol would be quicker than brandy.” But she regretted the tart words as soon as they were out. “I’m sorry!”
“It would be, wouldn’t it? I’ll remember your advice.”
“Don’t! I mean... don’t do anything. I...”
Humor touched his lips. “Lost for words, Lady Ariana? Unusual, I’m sure. Go to bed. You leave here in the morning.”
She didn’t want to go. Now or tomorrow. How could she abandon him? And yet she knew—she sensed—that he truly wanted her gone, now and tomorrow. Pride could not withstand that.
“Good night, then,” she said.
“Good night.”
There was nothing for it but to leave, abandoning him to his dark devices, but once out of the room, she ran upstairs as if he might pursue. She paused in the upstairs corridor to catch her breath and gather her wits. He wasn’t following her, no matter how much she might wish he was.
What devil haunted him?
Was he given to fits of perilous melancholy?
She’d known one gentleman in Hampshire who’d seemed to have everything for a contented life but had slowly withdrawn from society and then one day walked out to sea, even though he was unable to swim.
