Would he die if she told him, Doona touch me?
Aye, he would die if she dinna want him.
He wanted her beyond reason. He wanted her with a passion that bordered on savagery. He wanted her with a desire that stripped him of honor.
Could he take the lass—a virgin lass? Och, yes, but no, no, he couldna do that. He’d promised her father he would keep her safe.
He must keep her safe from himself.
Could he? He must.
A war went on inside his head as he thought about tapping at her door later that night when the house was all quiet and before she went to sleep. He could make up some excuse.
Och, but could he do such a thing?
No. He couldna do it to her. He was a cad as to even think about it. A blackguard and a villain.
And if he gave in to desire—what then of the consequences? There would be consequences.
Damn the consequences, damn it all.
~ Eleven ~
MARY RUSSELL’S SOIREE was already festively in progress when the Earl of Dunkirk and his party arrived on the scene.
Robby grumbled still until Donna grabbed a tidbit from a tray a servant held high as he passed them and dropped it into her husband’s mouth.
Bess laughed at Robby’s sudden change of expression and turned to see Fleet happily greeting a couple of his cronies. Where the earl was, she could not tell.
Champagne flowed, and she was chatting up friends and noting that the assembled guests were having an excellent time when an old friend of her father’s caught her elbow and steered her into private conversation for a few moments. He sighed suddenly and chastised himself. “Oh, listen to me going on and on. I am certain you should be flitting about enjoying yourself. Go on—you are a dear child to keep an old man company.”
“Nonsense,” Bess said merrily. “I loved chatting with you.”
He gave her arm a nudge and said, “Go on—those young people you came in with are by now looking for you.”
Bess smiled and inclined her head as she started off. Her eyes found and locked with the earl’s as he looked her way. She couldn’t stop herself if she tried, and she wasn’t trying to stop herself as she walked towards him. His was the only company she wanted.
“Finally,” said a male voice at her back.
She turned, and instinctively a hand went to her heart as she stepped backwards and away. It was the dandy from the Red Lion!
The dandy smiled sweetly at her and repeated, this time, more softly, “Finally.” His eyebrow went up, and he added, “Ah, have I startled you? Forgive me. Perhaps I should observe the proprieties and fetch my cousin, Mary Russell, to introduce us?”
Bess found her voice. “Mary Russell is your cousin?” She heard the disbelief in her tone.
He laughed. “But yes, I am Bernard Holland, my Lady Elizabeth.” He wore a puzzled expression. “I have always thought that Mary and I have a family resemblance. Do you not see it?” Bess didn’t see it, but he didn’t wait for her reply as he added, “Indeed, our mothers are sisters.”
“How did you know my name?” Bess asked, still astonished to find that Holland had a respectable connection. Looking into his hazel eyes at the Red Lion, and again now, she saw something quite different.
“I made it my business to find out who you were as soon as I saw you walk into the ballroom. You must know how refreshingly exquisite you are, as I am certain the earl has told you many times. I understand you are a treasured guest in his home.” He made a show of looking around. “Yet, where is your father?”
“He could not make it this evening,” was all she answered, thinking he was a typical gossipmonger.
“And so you fend for yourself?”
She didn’t like the sound of that. There seemed to be some hidden meaning behind each and every word, though she couldn’t fathom what. She put up her chin. “Absurd. I am with trusted friends. What are you implying?”
He put up his hands. “Acquit me. I imply nothing more than the facts.”