Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition) (12 page)

Tristan offered his hand as she descended the steps of the coach, his jaw visibly tense. To his
credit, he’d tried on numerous occasions during the carriage ride to steer the conversation away from his sister’s betrothal, but each attempt ended in abject failure. The brooding expression on her brother’s proud face told Gwen that he felt as exasperated as she did.

Footmen, dressed in a livery of deep navy blue and gold, greeted them. The cobalt color brought to mind Sebastian’s eyes, even though no fabric could ever rival his deep azure. They, like the man, were unique.

A thought chilled her. By showing up with Keir tonight, his usually warm expression would cool drastically.

Once inside and relieved of her cape, she observed a change in Keir’s expression. He couldn’t lift his gaze above her bodice. Anger boiled within her veins in response to his leering.

“Ahem,” she commanded his attention, pointing upward. “My face is up here. Perhaps you might try looking at it and not my bosom.” Though her choice of words had been crude, Gwen could think of no other way to stop his offensive behavior and silently prayed that her reproof would work.

Keir ceased his lascivious gawking long enough to bow his head and whisper in a revolting tone, “Both you and they will be mine soon enough.”

“My sister isn’t yours,” Tristan hissed from behind. “So keep your eyes and hands off her.”

As if attempting to further incite Gwen’s brother, Keir placed his hand on her arm. She struggled to pull away as his other hand clamped hers in a death grip.

“I’m a patient man, Tristan,” Keir said over his shoulder as he led Gwen toward the ballroom. “Our wedding night will be here soon enough.”

Gwen’s heart slammed into her chest as her earlier premonition returned.

Her torment had just begun.

The realization drained her of her very essence. This would be her life, at her father’s insistence. A cold numbness seeped into her soul and she longed for it to overtake her, to remove her from this calamity that had become her existence. She couldn’t understand why her father was forcing her into this. Did he want to punish her? What had she done to deserve this?

Keir nudged her arm, interrupting her silent contemplation as their names were called. The grand ballroom looked magnificent. Candles illuminated the ceiling, flickering like bright stars in an endless sky, while gas sconces adorned the walls adding a golden glow to the opulent room.

Sebastian stood alone, awaiting her arrival. In immediate response fury the likes of which he had rarely known, ignited within him as he spied Gwen walking on the arm of her Scottish earl. He’d never expected she would bring Dunlop. Was this her way of getting back at him or was it an attempt to ensure distance between them?

Victoria approached her brother from behind and placed her hand on his sleeve. “We must greet our guests,” she whispered.

Grinding his teeth, Sebastian and his sister strode towards the MacAlistair party, his stare scrutinizing Gwen. She met his gaze, bestowing
upon him a slight smile while he, in turn, remained unresponsive. Gwen then took a deep intake of breath, as if bracing herself. Her reaction revealed that his anger was indeed palpable.

“Your Grace, we must apologize to you and your sister.” Her tone was gentle. “You were expecting three of us, but the timing of Lord Dunlop’s arrival allowed us no time to notify you.”

“I must say, Gwendolyn, you exert yourself far too much.” An air of superiority spilled from Dunlop’s every word. “There is no need for you to apologize. We nobles welcome unexpected guests of the same class and besides which, your father or I would offer any apologies, not you.”

This man was his competition? Even before Keir spoke, Sebastian had ached to punch him, yet after hearing the fop’s dress down to Gwen, he now had a reason to. His hands clenched in tight fists as he fought the overwhelming urge to do so.

It was apparent that Victoria could read his anger, for she took her brother’s hand in hers, thus keeping Sebastian from knocking Keir out cold with one swift punch.

“Come dearest,” Tristan said, his tone dripping with venom as he took Gwen’s arm. “Let’s leave the men to their introductions while I get you something to drink. It is bad form that Lord Dunlop hasn’t yet offered you any refreshment.”

Lachlan introduced Keir to Sebastian and Victoria. Sebastian hailed a footman post haste, ensuring that his guests were settled before ushering Victoria to the far end of the ballroom. The Earl of Stratton may have just arrived but Sebastian
couldn’t wait for him to leave.

Tristan led his affronted sister out onto the verandah, noting that she now clutched the brandy glass he’d given her so tightly that her glove looked stretched beyond reason.

“Careful,” he warned, “you may break the glass.”

Gwen loosened her grip and took an unladylike gulp of the amber liquid. Her once vibrant eyes had appeared vacant ever since their arrival.

“Why are you going through with this?” he asked his twin. “You can’t honestly plan to marry that loathsome man.”

“I don’t want to,” Gwen replied, feeling the color draining from her cheeks, “but I don’t see how I can escape without hurting father or our family’s reputation.”

“It is quite simple.” Tristan studied her reaction. “Refuse to marry the man.”

“What of Papa’s health and our family’s reputation?” Gwen’s voice raised an octave, belying her even-tempered nature. “Honestly, Tristan, I know you’re not an objective observer. You have been eager for me to defy Papa for ages.”

“That has nothing to do with this.” His tone was dire. “With father’s help, Keir will steal your soul, that which I admire most about you.”

“Please, Tristan.” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s not be melodramatic.”

“For God’s sake, Gwen, look at how he has
already diminished your spirit after only one carriage ride and a conversation with the Duke of Davenport. What will you be like in a few months or years, let alone a lifetime?”

Tristan’s words mirrored her own doubts and fears. “I just can’t fathom why Papa would be set on this union if Keir weren’t a good man? True, I never liked him but even so, the Keir present this evening isn’t the same man we knew in Scotland. Surely you will concede that.”

Gwen was desperate to understand, to make sense of her father’s actions. Why would he want her to marry someone so vile? “Perhaps Keir is uncomfortable in England? Perhaps he wanted to impress his host?”

“You cannot change them, Gwen.” Tristan’s response was sympathetic. “I know you want to think the best of them but, make no mistake, this is the real Keir. Our father is either blinded by his Scottish roots, his own need to control your life, or by some ulterior motive neither you nor I can yet fathom. Our father is not the man you think he is.”

Even though Gwen suspected her brother was indeed correct, she raged against him as much as she inwardly admonished herself. “How can you be so cruel toward him? He is our father! Have you no loyalty?”

“What possible need would I have for loyalty? You bestow enough upon him for ten siblings.” Tristan sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I swear to you, Gwen; it is a mistake to marry that man.”

“Then it is a good thing you’re not the one
betrothed to him,” Gwen muttered as she jerked away from his grasp, part of her drink sloshing about the glass and over the rim. Gwen wiped her skirt with her free hand.

“Do you think nothing of the man you truly love, of Sebastian?” Tristan asked in a hushed tone. “He loves you, too. It’s plain for all to see. He is the man you should be marrying.”

“I cannot discuss this with you anymore, Tristan.” She turned and crossed the terrace, heading towards the crowded ballroom.

Her brother was close on her heels. “Why?” he insisted and, when she ignored him, he reached for her arm, turning her to face him. “Is it because you can’t be honest with yourself let alone your own brother?”

Gwen’s gaze locked with her brother’s, his brown eyes brimming with concern. Gradually, her anger subsided and at last she allowed herself to consider his question.

During her time with Sebastian, he had skillfully seduced her and she had been more than willing to comply. He admitted to wanting her but never professed his love let alone proposed marriage. Perhaps the sole reason Sebastian wanted her was because she was unattainable.

“Marrying Sebastian isn’t an option now, nor will it ever be.” Gwen downed the remaining contents of her glass in two large gulps. “I must return to the ballroom.”

“No, Gwen. Talk to me before it’s too late,” Tristan beseeched his sister.

“Tell me, then, how to make this right. How do
I cry off without scandalizing our entire family?” Tears welled in her eyes as Gwen used her free hand to clutch her brother’s jacket in desperation. “You want me to see Papa clearly? Well, I do. He will announce my betrothal tonight, if he hasn’t already done so. He and Keir have me cornered. How do I break free now without ruining us all? Please tell me that and I will gladly cry off this instant. Please, Tristan.”

Her plea was met with silence. It became clear to Gwen that even he, a brilliant attorney, knew not how to solve her dilemma without wreaking havoc. She released his jacket, taking several steps back.

Tristan opened his mouth to protest, but Gwen held her hand up in warning, her eyes ablaze with anger. “No more! I must return to the rest of the wolves.”

“You cannot think me one of those wolves?” A deep line etched in his forehead, proof her words had wounded him.

“Of course I do.” Gwen’s hands were shaking as she spoke. “You’re tearing me apart, speaking of choices when there are none, at least none that won’t destroy everyone I love. Why must you dangle an apparition of happiness in front of me when I shall never have it?”

Her glass slipped from her grasp, shattering into tiny fragments as the shrill noise reverberated through the still night air.

Gwen stared at the sharp shards of crystal scattered across the stone floor then, after a moment’s hesitation, bent down to pick them up.

Tristan knelt beside her and placed her shaking
hands in his own. “Don’t worry about this mess. I’ll take care of it. You go inside and freshen up.” He squeezed her hands in a protective gesture.

“Can’t you see?” she implored him. “Whether or not I marry Keir is no longer my decision. I will suffer regardless. It lies to me now to protect you and Colin from scandal.”

“Gwen,” Tristan said, his tone kind yet commanding. “Colin has abandoned us for all intents and purposes. I don’t need nor do I want your protection, especially if it means that you sacrifice yourself to the devil that has been endowed with our father’s approval.”

After squeezing her hands in his, Tristan added, “Don’t sacrifice yourself. I am begging you. Do not do this. Trust in me. I can and will protect you.”

Her eyes searched his and Gwen sensed that there was something Tristan wasn’t revealing to her but her taut nerves and frayed emotions failed to process whatever it was. Instead, she stood then reentered the noisy ballroom.

Keir charged towards her at once, like a dog at the hunts, and seized her arm. Gwen was aware that she’d just walked into the arms of her predator. There were times when which Keir treated her with cordial civility. On most other occasions, he treated her like a possession and continually sought her cleavage, licking his lips and all but salivating at the sight.

Gwen cursed her asinine decision to rework the material at her bodice at least a thousand times and wished at least a thousand more that the night would end at once putting her out of her misery.

Surely it wouldn’t be too much to ask for a meteor shower to strike the very spot upon which Keir now stood? She squeezed her eyes closed, allowing herself one brief respite by picturing a stray meteor setting Keir ablaze. Though her train of thought was not realistic, it still afforded her a tiny bit of satisfaction.

From across the ballroom, Sebastian scrutinized her, despising the fact that Gwen’s arm rested on Keir’s as if she belonged to him.

Jealousy coursed through every muscle in his body as Sebastian watched Dunlop leer at the creamy flesh above her bodice. His hands itched to reach for the nearest knife and gouge Keir’s eyes out. Or, he mused with a wry smile, a fork or spoon would be just as effective.

Gwen’s expression was vacant, her smile counterfeit, causing anxiety to claw at Sebastian’s chest. Upon further examination of her pale face and hollow eyes, his blood turned to ice. It was the first time he’d ever seen Gwen humorless.

This would be her life with Keir
.

Their argument, Gwen’s reaction, made sense to Sebastian at last. She must have resented him for stirring sensations within her that she’d never again experience. Gwen must have realized that she would never share such passion with her betrothed.

His stride was brusque and determined as he crossed the ballroom. Gwen had managed to free herself from Keir’s grip and was standing off to the side of him.

Sebastian took her arm. He didn’t ask Dunlop for the dance. It would have imparted more
consideration than the man deserved. Instead, he clapped his rival hard on the shoulder and drawled, “You don’t mind if the host steals a dance with Miss MacAlistair, do you old man?”