Jessie followed the direction of his gaze to where Christian stood, and wondered at the fact that St. John made it a point to raise his chin in greeting, when she knew they despised one another. When St. John’s gaze returned to her, he was smiling victoriously, and another shudder seized her.
“Dance with me, dear,” he entreated, giving her no opportunity to resist, for he took her hand and led her without delay amidst the dancers.
Unwilling to create a scene, Jessie went, though her gaze strayed once more across the room.
Christian watched them together, his fury barely contained.
It was obvious by the expression on St. John’s face, and by the way the bastard’s gaze kept straying in his direction, that he had burned Jessie’s ears with information intended for him.Maggot.He smiled in disgust. Little did he know that he was investing in the wrong stratagem; Jessie would never willingly come near him—particularly after what had transpired between them in the garden. She’d studiously avoided his gaze ever since.
Damn St. John.
Damn her.
Well, by damn, he felt compelled to oblige—if St. John wished to convey information through her treacherous lips, he was certainly willing to hear it. He moved purposefully through the dancers and bent to whisper in her ear.
“Might I have this dance,m’mselle?”
Startled, Jessie swung about to discover Christian behind her, smiling coldly, though for once, not at her, but at Lord St. John. St. John’s gaze, too, held some private, undecipherable message, and she shuddered at the feeling that came over hersuddenly—as though somehow she were caught in the midst of some war raging between them.
Releasing her, St. John smiled as he stepped away. “Of course,” he said, relenting much too easily.
Jessie started to protest, but he gave her no opportunity. Without awaiting her assent, Christian swept her into his arms, leading her away from St. John.
“I don’t believe I recall agreeing to dance with you, my lord,” she said evenly. “You’re rude, to say the least!”
He smiled without mirth. “You flatter me,ma belle. Now, tell me... what were you discussing so privately with St. John.”
“Of all the arrogant, vainglory—” She gnashed her teeth. “It was none of your concern!”
“M’mselle,” he said, smiling down at her with all the devastating charm that had once been her downfall. Nothing about his tone or expression hinted at the threat she sensed in the affectionate address. “I will know this moment what you discussed,” he demanded, “or I promise you will sorely wish you’d stayed at home this eve instead of coming out to parade your”—his gaze swept down, lingering over her carefully exposed bosom— “many assets,” he finished. “I didn’t realize you had quite so much. You would do Eliza proud, I think.”
“How dare you! Arrogant cur!” Jessie gritted her teeth and glared at him. “What makes you think our discourse was any of your concern, my lord?”
“Let us simply call it mother wit, love.”
Jessie’s eyes burned with contempt. “I asked you not to call me that!”
Christian grinned a slow, unrepentant grin. “Pardonnez-moi, ma pauvre petite.”
“Nay!” she spat. “I will not give you pardon!”
He gave her a wintry little smile, but said nothing.
A thought occurred to her suddenly; much as she despised the fact, she knew that Christian and Ben were acquainted...
If Ben was, in truth, in danger, she would need someone’s aid. There was nothing she could accomplish alone, especially at this late hour of the night. The sad truth was that there was no one else she knew to ask for help save Christian. Still, she loathed to ask anything of him.
“Very well!” she relented. “He said there was to be trouble on the docks this eve... that Ben should stay away.”
“Is that what he said?” His gaze was as cold and unyielding as steel. “And?”
“That the notorious Prince of Smugglers himself would be raiding the warehouse at Adger’s wharf! He?—”
Without warning, Christian seized her firmly by the arm, turning her about. She gave a small cry of pain and he released her at once. With a hand at her back, he forced her off the dance floor, walking so close behind her that she could feel the heat of his body. “Do as I say,” he whispered for her ears alone, “or so help me God, you will live to regret it.”
He led her directly toward their hostess, made a hasty apology for their early departure, and within moments, they were out the front door.
“How dare you tell her I was ill!” She spun about to face him. “My God, you are a despicable liar, as well!”
