Such a scenario was a bit worrying for the young lady. Someone could get hurt. Or ruined.
Lady Eleanor must have thought so too, for she hurried past Cam in a cloud of wine-colored skirts and a faint scent of black currants, her gaze fixed on the opposite side of the ballroom.
Cam slid out from behind his pillar and started after her.
What a pity she wouldn’t reach her sister in time.
* * *
“You are presumptuousness itself, sir.”
Julian gazed down into a pair mischievous dark eyes and couldn’t resist the smile that curved his lips. Lady Charlotte might speak in a scolding tone, but her eyes gave her away, for nothing but invitation shone in those wicked depths.
Good Lord. Her eyes were sin itself. How had she managed to escape ruination for this long, with eyes like that?
Julian pressed his palm against her waist and maneuvered her a few steps closer to the terrace doors. “Presumptuous? I don’t know what you mean. You look flushed, Lady Charlotte. Too much dancing, perhaps? A breath of fresh air will restore you.”
A tiny smiled played about her lips. “Oh, indeed. How solicitous of you, Mr. West. I do beg your pardon, for I was sure you thought only of your own needs when you began to move me toward the doors.”
Julian’s smile widened. Clever. No doubt that was how she’d avoided seduction so far—that cleverness. Not one gentleman in ten would expect it of her, for they’d be too taken with her eyes and mouth to notice her tongue, except for the most carnal of purposes.
He didn’t flatter himself he was the one in ten whowouldnotice, but then this wasn’t one of his usual seductions. Under normal circumstances he’d have his mouth over hers by now, but Lady Charlotte wasn’t a courtesan, and she wasn’t his mistress. She was an innocent, and Julian drew the line at debauching dewy-eyed maidens. He’d give her a chaste kiss or two, and keep her out of the ballroom long enough for her absence to be noticed, but this was hardly a scandalous seduction.
He eased her through the doors and out onto the terrace. “I promise you, my lady, I have no needs beyond assuring myself of your comfort.”
She slid her arm away from his, strolled to the edge of the terrace, and leaned back against the low stone wall separating it from the garden beyond. “No proper young lady could be comfortable near a dark garden with a man of your reputation, sir. I hope you don’t mean to imply I’m not a proper young lady?”
Julian’s lips curved into a grin. How delightful to find a wit to match that wicked red mouth of hers. He followed her across the terrace, stopping only when he was so close the deep violet silk of her skirts brushed against his black breeches.
He bent his head toward her so the other couples on the terrace couldn’t overhear them. “I meant to imply no such thing, and yet I do wonder whether a proper young lady should be as accomplished a flirt as you appear to be.”
She didn’t draw away from him, but instead gave him a teasing half-smile. “Perhaps not, and yet my skills at flirtation are wasted on you, for you need no encouragement whatever from me. I might flirt with you or not, and you’ll still attempt to lure me into the garden either way, won’t you?”
Julian stared at her. Jesus, but she was tempting—so much so he began to imagine they stood on the edge of the Garden of Eden. He’d expected a dim-witted debutante, not Eve herself. Cam should have warned him.
“I begin to think it’syouwho lureme, Lady Charlotte.”
He’d expected to be the serpent in this scenario, but it seemed more than one ardent gentleman had tried to lure the delectable Lady Charlotte into a dark garden. He wasn’t the first serpent she’d encountered, or the most cunning. She knew what he was about. She was merely toying with him now, and delighting in doing so.
A gentle breeze wafted over them, lifting the loose locks of hair away from her neck. The cool draught blew under Julian’s coat, but it did nothing to cool the heat of his skin.
She gave a low, throaty laugh. “I, lure you? Yes, I suppose it would be more convenient for you to believe so. No need for an attack of conscience, in that case.”
“Ah, my lady.” Julian caught a lock of her dark hair between his fingers. “What makes you think I have a conscience?”
That surprised a genuine laugh out of her. “No conscience, Mr. West? My, such refreshing honesty. I confess I’ve never heard the like of it before, not from any gentleman, but especially not from one intent on a solitary stroll in a dark garden with an innocent young lady. I believe you do have a conscience, after all.”
Julian felt the first frisson of regret shoot down his spine, but he ignored it. She was lovely and intriguing, but it was too late to change his mind. Cam would be halfway across the ballroom by now.
“I have no fear of my conscience, Lady Charlotte, for I’ve done nothing I need reproach myself for.”
His tone, his casual smile, the self-deprecating lift of one shoulder—all perfect. He waited, his breath held.
Her thick, dark eyelashes brushed against her cheekbones as she let her eyes fall shut. When she opened them again, she looked straight at him. “No. You’ve no need to reproach yourself. Yet.”
* * *
Charlotte waited for her words to sink in, for understanding to cross his smooth, handsome face, for his lips to part in anticipation. Then she brushed past him, stepped off the edge of the terrace, and strolled into the dark garden beyond.
