Alanna (When Hearts Dare Series Book 2) (17 page)

Her knees weakened, and the dull energy she’d arrived with drained from her fingertips, replaced by fire and lightning.

Jonathan’s hand went over the one she’d tucked in the crook of his arm. “Are you all right?”

She hadn’t realized she’d clutched his arm at the sight of Wolf. “Yes. Something must have been on the floor.... I nearly tripped. Thank you.” She loosened her grip.

“We’ll catch up with our parents later,” Jonathan said. “Right now you need something to drink.” He steered her to the punch bowl as if she were a filly hitched to a carriage and he the driver.

Alanna detested the way he directed everything. “I never said I was thirsty.”

Jonathan sniffed. “Well, you will be in due time if I don’t prevent it.”

Before she could move closer to the Thompsons and Wolf, a bevy of Boston’s single females intervened. It didn’t take her long to conclude that she wasn’t the only woman in attendance affected by Wolf’s arresting charisma. The knot in her stomach tightened each time she discreetly caught sight of him—and his surrounding feminine entourage.

As the evening wore on, no one was the wiser to Alanna’s chagrin. She nearly choked on her punch when one of her peers whispered in her ear and giggled over the enchanting and devilishly handsome gentleman accompanying the Thompsons—the one with the golden earring and impeccable manners.

Wolf stepped onto the floor with yet another beauty on his arm. As the other young women had, she beamed when the music ended, convinced he was enchanted by her alone. By no means did he appear bored. Alanna doubted there was an available woman left who hadn’t been touched by his attention. How she wished it were she he devoted himself to, her hand he kissed, the small of her back he set his fingers against. Her skin quivered. She knew exactly what all those things felt like.

Finally, she’d had enough. “Where’s Mother?”

“About ten feet behind you,” Jonathan responded. “Why?”

 

 

“Fair warning,” Wolf said to Thompson through closed teeth. Mrs. Malone scowled his way while Alanna whispered in her ear.

He’d watched the Malones cast worried glances over their shoulders at the Thompsons for the better part of the evening. At last, they turned and marched forward with the Hemenways in tow, a façade of interest suddenly washing over their faces. The Hemenways appeared none the wiser.

Wolf cursed. “Here comes that ill-tempered, squawking—”

“The Malones would be remiss if they did not pay their respects,” Thompson said. “My wife is of noble birth, and as they are with the Hemenways, the Malones would not choose to ignore Martha. Besides, Mrs. Malone gets to wave Alanna’s ring right under your nose. She’ll likely count the days to the wedding, as well.”

Wolf snorted and turned his back on the approaching group as if he was unaware of their existence. “Then why the hell is Malone taking a chance on speaking to me?”

“He may not like you or think you good enough for his daughter, but he knows you wouldn’t do anything to cause me social embarrassment.” Thompson grinned and greeted the Hemenways, the Malones, and their offspring in order of hierarchy.

With everything he had in him, Wolf ignored Alanna while the introductions began. He shook the senior Hemenway’s hand. Not a sliver of recognition. The grasp of the younger Hemenway’s hand aroused more emotion in Wolf. He hid his reaction to the man’s cold demeanor and haughty arrogance.

He had the same severe look as his mother and the same coldness in his eyes, but he appeared much less the fool than Wolf had expected. He was nearly as tall as Wolf, and although his hair was thinning on top, he couldn’t have been more than thirty-five.

At last, Wolf was forced to greet Alanna. “Good evening, Miss Malone.”

Mrs. Malone lifted her daughter’s hand under his nose. “My future son-in-law has fine taste, does he not, Mr. Wolf?”

Wolf turned squarely on Mrs. Malone.
Go to hell.
“Indeed he does, madam. I was about to tell Mr. Hemenway that very thing. But then, anyone could tell by the fine choice he’s made in a wife—and in the family she comes from—that his good taste should go unchallenged henceforth.”

“But of course, thank you,” Mrs. Malone sputtered. As had occurred aboard ship, uncertainty clouded her face at Wolf’s remarks. “Mr. Hemenway simply cannot wait to take our daughter’s hand. He’s insisted the wedding be moved to this coming June, have you not, sir?”

Jonathan sniffed lightly. “I have.” He wiped the tip of his nose with a neatly folded square of cloth, regarded Wolf with frosty arrogance, and then fell into brittle silence.

Wolf stared back, longer than was socially acceptable. So the ass was sniveling after all.

Hemenway’s eyes cast a dark and unfathomable glimmer. He hadn’t missed Wolf’s cunning insolence.

Wolf continued on in polite fashion, dropping humorous anecdotes here and there with regard to their sailing on the same ship. Had Mrs. Malone hired someone to speak well of her in front of the Hemenways, none could have outdone Wolf.

Thompson asked Alanna to dance in celebration of her engagement. The others joined them, with Martha on Wolf’s arm.

Well into the evening, Wolf found himself standing near the musicians alongside Alanna and Martha. Malone and the senior Hemenway were in the crowd discussing business with several other men, and Thompson had offered to waltz with Mrs. Malone. Where the younger Hemenway and his mother had wandered off to was anyone’s guess.

Martha excused herself and turned to speak to the matriarch of the Appleton clan, the self-avowed authority on Boston’s entire family tree. In truth, she carried the history of every scandal and smoldering speculation that lay beneath the unruffled veneer of Boston society.

Wolf watched the couples whirling around the room with feigned attentiveness while out of the corner of his eye, he observed Alanna. When her mother whirled by on Thompson’s arm, Alanna tossed a gratuitous smile at Mrs. Malone’s ever-watchful gaze and then blew a breath of relief when she disappeared among the other couples, thanks to Thompson’s deft manipulations.

“Are we meant to exchange clever little on-dits at this juncture,
Mr. Wolf
?”

Wolf’s mouth tipped at one corner. “While I continue enjoying lascivious thoughts of you? I suppose so.”

Mrs. Malone twirled around on Thompson’s arm, a furious scowl on her face at catching sight of Wolf standing beside Alanna. “Mother has horrible taste in clothing, don’t you think?”

“At least the music is good,” Wolf responded.

At Alanna’s soft laugh, a quiver ran through him. Standing next to her while both pretended interest in the couples moving about the dance floor grew more tedious by the second. He could stand it no longer—he turned and allowed his gaze to run the length of her voluptuous form. “But we can’t say the same about your taste, can we? You look lovely.”

Her cheeks pinkened. “Why, thank you, Mr. Wolf. Would you believe it was Mother who taught me about clothing?”

Wolf chuckled.

“It’s true. Mother’s credo was a veritable chant—the cardinal virtue of all beauty is restraint.” She laughed lightly. “Can you imagine if Mother didn’t restrain herself?”

The threads of Alanna’s velvet voice wove through Wolf’s heart. Suddenly, he realized she made his world real in a way it had never been before. A hunger gnawed at him. “You take my breath away, Alanna, darlin’.”

“Oh, Wolf.” Her cheeks flushed a deeper rose. She turned back to the couples whirling about, the rise and fall of her chest quickening. “Will you waltz with me? I so want to touch you.”

“If I take you in my arms out there, it’ll put everyone in the room on their ear. But it’s either that or you must walk away from me, because I cannot keep my hands off you much longer.”

She lifted her hand to his. “My thoughts exactly.”

Blood raced wildly through Wolf’s veins as he led her to the center of the floor and eased her into his arms. “We’ll face the consequences later.”

“What consequences? Tonight I am formally engaged, and everyone will think you’re no different from any of the other gentlemen who’ve wished me well with a turn around the floor. And you certainly are a fine gentleman tonight, by the way.”

She fed Wolf’s aching hunger with her loving gaze. “Alanna, you’re so beautiful it actually pains me to look at you.”

 

 

Mrs. Appleton’s eyes suddenly glittered and a narrow smile touched her thin mouth. She raised her glass to her lips and spoke to Martha. “Now there’s an intriguing couple who look made for one another.”

Martha followed Mrs. Appleton’s gaze to a handsome, golden-haired man filled with grace and virility who fairly floated around the room with a raven-haired beauty in his arms. A shock wave passed through her, rippled the liquid in her glass.

Wolf swept Alanna in graceful circles, his hand stretched nearly around her slender waist. They were close—too close. He held her as lightly as a fragile bird, yet every bit as securely and knowingly as the fire in his eyes captured and held her upturned gaze—a gaze blazing with utter and helpless adoration. It was as though a spotlight shone on the couple as they glided about, its light gleaming off his golden earring and glittering off the brilliance of the diamond and sapphire ring on her hand as it rested on his broad shoulder.

The magnetic strength of him—of the couple—shot right through Martha. Oh Lord, they looked as if they were born for one another’s arms, and who wouldn’t think they were ecstatically in love?

With her heart knocking against her ribs, Martha tore her eyes from Wolf and Alanna long enough to glance around the room. Everyone stared. Unspoken words hung in the air as people hushed their conversations—some so quickly they forgot to close their mouths.

The music, the other dancers, only played backdrop to the dazzling couple as they twirled about, holding one another, completely oblivious to the electrifying energy they produced.

Martha thanked God when the music ended. A low, savage growl rumbled next to her. She turned.

Frantically, she searched through the couples exiting the dance floor, trying to head Wolf off or capture her husband’s attention, whichever she could manage.

Too late.

“Take your hands off my daughter,” Malone hissed. He grabbed Alanna’s arm and shoved Wolf away from her. “And don’t you ever look her way again, you filth, you . . . you vermin!”

Alanna gasped. “Father!”

Wolf’s jaw clenched. He stared at her arm, white where her father’s fingers dug deep into tender flesh. “If you want me to leave quietly, release her.”

He stood, unmoving, until Malone eased his grip and the pink in Alanna’s skin returned. Wolf inclined his head, backed into the crowd, and strode to one of the unlocked balcony doors lining the ballroom. The cold outside was a welcome relief from the stuffy, overcrowded atmosphere within. He set his palms on the cold granite rail, closed his eyes, and breathed deep of the icy winter air.

“God, when will this end?” Every nerve in his body screamed and his chest hurt. He hadn’t wept since he was six years old. This was the first time he’d come close.

Damn it, he cared too much about Alanna.

What was the point of it all? A life with her was impossible. He had to settle his affairs and leave Boston. If he ever gave another thought to a future with her, he needed to remember this particular evening, with its crowd of smooth-talking hypocrites. Had his parents survived, would they have gathered together with these people? Would he, too, have ended up paying homage to such shallowness? How different his life would have been. Worthless thoughts, these—and ones he’d had too many times to count of late.

A quick rise and fall in the volume of noise told Wolf someone had slipped through another set of doors. He turned to look behind him.

No one.

He realized each balcony was separate and had its own private entry. Potted evergreens situated between them afforded a modicum of privacy. A snarl of muffled voices caught his attention.

Wolf would have recognized that guttural growl anywhere. And Hemenway? Or both Hemenways? He couldn’t catch much, only a few expletives, and his own name. He stood unmoving, his silhouette carved in the darkness, blending with the spruce.

He eyed the street below.

Too far to jump.

He waited to make his exit until after Malone left, in order to find out whom he’d been with. But before he could leave, the door behind him swung open. He eyed the ground below him once again.

He caught her perfume, and swore under his breath. She had no idea that this mess went so much deeper than getting caught dancing with her. He kept his back to her while his grip on the railing tightened. “Alanna, get the hell away from me.”