Romancing the Rogue (112 page)

Upon arriving at the Lordington’s impressive mansion, Ewan immediately searched for Grace but was unable to locate her. After thirty minutes of searching, ducking debutantes intent on securing a dance and a few dowagers wanting far more than an innocent dance, he found her. Glowing in a gown of light gold highlighted by a cream-colored jacket, she floated into the room on the arm of Shiply.

Ewan struggled to keep his temper in check but failed when she gave Shiply an adoring smile and laughed at something he said. Unable to resist, Ewan began his advance toward the corner of the ballroom where she stood conversing.

When he drew closer, Grace looked up at his approach, and upon seeing him rather than offering him a smile or small wave, she turned to Shiply, and he escorted her to the dance floor. It wouldn’t have been as suspicious if she hadn’t checked over her shoulder to make sure Ewan had stopped his pursuit. Glowering, he took up a position at the edge of the room.

~~~~

“Quit your brooding, dear. You’ll scare everyone away! Or perhaps that is the idea?” Lady Jarvais asked as she joined Ewan on the side of the room.

Ewan nodded to her but was distracted by the beauty of the room he hadn’t noticed in his efforts to secure Grace’s attention. The hall was beautifully decorated, with holly and cedar boughs covering each mantel and highlighted by hundreds of small candles. The air was thick with the scent of cedar and a hint of cinnamon that was intended to put the guests in mind of the joy of the approaching Christmas holiday. The effect was lost on Ewan, and he continued to brood, all but ignoring Lady Jarvais. But Ewan didn’t feel like celebrating, not yet.

“Really, Ewan, what has you acting positively boorish tonight? What has gotten into you?” Lady Jarvais’s brow rose as she looked him over from head to toe. “Are you ill, dear?”

“No, I am not,” Ewan replied impatiently.

“Well, something is amiss,” she remarked as Ewan continued to watch Grace, but he felt the sensation of someone watching him, as well.

The sensation was indeed accurate. Lady Jarvais was studying him without apology. Her gaze traveled from him to Grace and back, realization illuminating her countenance.

Ewan felt his upper lip curl in disgust at being so transparent, but there was nothing he could do about it now. With an impatient huff, he turned towards Lady Jarvais, who now wore a smug expression that he had learned to avoid even as a boy.

“You should not act as if you are constantly angry or upset with her. It will not endear her to you, you know.”

Lady Jarvais’s words earned her a menacing glare from Ewan. After pouring out his bleeding heart to his valet, the last thing he wanted to do was repeat the process.

“It won’t work on me, Ewan. You might as well come clean,” she remarked, giving him a stare-down of her own.

Ewan tried to appear unaffected.
“I resent that you believe me to be angry with her continually,” he stated firmly, returning his gaze forward, searching for Grace’s form. Another grimace twisted his features once he found her again in Shiply’s company.

“I don’t think you’re angry at her, love. I think you don’t know
what
to be with her, which in turn frustrates you greatly, leading you to drink copious amounts of brandy.” Lady Jarvais spoke with a quirk of her lips and a raised eyebrow.

At her words Ewan’s head swung about as he narrowed his eyes. “If Whit…”

“Oh dear, no, not Whit. Although I’m sure I’ll hear about it later when he visits his brother. After all, they can only share their adventures with their eccentric employers with each other.” She waved her hand in the air, completely disregarding his fears. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. Your secrets are always safe with us — or with Taite, however you wish to look at it.” She waved her gloved hand dismissively. “But we digress… The heart of the matter, dear. I believe that is the core issue.”

With a look of resigned disbelief aimed at her assurances of Whit’s and Taite’s secrecy, he began to shift as he considered her other question. He was just becoming the slightest bit comfortable admitting to
himself
his feelings for Grace that went far beyond friendship. But to admit those same emotions to her mother? Ewan wasn’t so sure he was ready for that step.

As he deliberated in how to answer her question, he was saved the trouble as Lady Jarvais spoke once again.

“Sometimes love grows slowly, so slowly that the change is imperceptible until one day you discover its overwhelming presence in your life, smoldering and unable to be quenched. Sometimes love grows quickly, consuming you like wildfire, but that can burn out quickly. And sometimes… sometimes, love is both — a slow burn that doesn’t reveal itself until it’s out of control and smoldering at the same time. When that happens, it can be the most fearful experience of your life, but also the most worthy, if you’re willing to risk the danger.”

“What is the danger, exactly?” Ewan asked, his words a small whisper in response to the truth in Lady Jarvais’s words.

“The danger is that you will no longer own your heart, but act in faith and give it away.” She smiled sweetly, with a hint of sympathy before patting his shoulder and walking away, leaving Ewan alone with his thoughts once more.

Could he risk his heart? For all he knew, it was already gone — given to Grace — and that scared him more than anything else. How could someone be cautious with his heart when it was no longer his own? Worse, how did one know his heart was safe, when the person holding it was completely unaware of the fact?

With a hardened inner resolve, Ewan decided he needed to take more assertive action. He had thrown the gauntlet with Shiply, but Grace was still blissfully unaware of his affections, something he’d have to remedy quickly. Even though he had just spoken about this same issue with Whit, somehow Lady Jarvais was able to put it in a clearer light.

Striding toward the end of the hall where Grace had just returned from the dance floor, he tried to meander around the milling people. Annoyed with his lack of progress — especially when he saw Grace begin to dance with yet another potential suitor — he cursed under his breath and headed to the farthest edges of the room, hoping to find more room to make his way.

As he reached the edge, he noticed various pots and plants adorning the edge of the room, all decorated with bows and woven silk scarves in crimson and sapphire. As he skirted around the edge of a tree, he looked out into the sea of humanity searching for Grace when he ran into something.

“Oh!” A startled voice called out as the unsuspecting victim went tumbling backward from the force of Ewan’s stride.

Ewan had just made eye contact with Grace and was reluctant to break it, but couldn’t help it once he knocked over the poor girl. Looking down, he saw beautiful creamy skin poke out from beneath her white debutante dress leading down to shapely ankles.

He averted his eyes and congratulated himself on his gentlemanly behavior. “Pardon, miss. May I help you rise? Are you injured?” he asked, belatedly.

He waited for the debutante to look up, and when she did, he noticed that she was beautiful. Soft spun gold hair cascaded down her shoulders as it had come undone from her original style in her tumble. Her eyes were a clear blue fringed with dark spiked lashes and a lower lip that was fuller than the top, adding interest to her face.

With a blush, she answered, “I’m afraid all that has been injured is my pride, but yes, I’d like some assistance in rising.” Her voice was sweet, and Ewan found he liked her instantly. There was no simpering, whining, or threats; nor did she flirt or try to use her position to blackmail him. He grasped her hand, noticing how small it was, and lifted her gently till she stood.

“Thank you.” She smoothed her skirts, casting a quick glance at Ewan.

“Apologies again, Miss…” Ewan waited for her to supply her name.

“Jacobsen… Miss Rachel Jacobsen.” She spoke with practiced grace, but her eyes gave her a hint of mischief. If he weren’t already so attached to Grace, he could see himself finding Miss Jacobsen far more than just interesting.

“Ah, a pleasure, Miss Jacobsen. Ewan Emmett, Duke of Greys, at your service.” He bowed crisply over her hand and offered her a rakish grin — he couldn’t help himself.

“Ah, so
you’re
the Duke of Greys,” she replied with a twist of her lips.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he teased back, but with only friendly intent.

“Yes, it does,” she replied with a grin that wasn’t so much flirtatious as it was humorous.

“Your grace?” Grace’s voice called demurely as she approached from behind.

“Lady Grace?” Ewan turned and absorbed every detail. Although he had watched her since arriving, this was the first time he had been able to see her this closely.

Her hair was gently pulled back into a twist, with ringlets cascading down the front of her hairline. The wheat-colored tresses reflected the candlelight and shone brightly, making Ewan forcibly swallow. Never had he had such a strong reaction to a woman’s hair!

Her green eyes were questioning him as he unabashedly raked his eyes over her beautiful gown and the way it complimented her lovely shape.

“Did you fall? I saw you disappear…” She noticed Miss Rachel standing just beside Ewan. “Oh… I didn’t mean to…” She began to excuse herself, but Ewan wasn’t willing to let her believe he had been doing anything more than assisting Miss Jacobsen. If he were to win her heart, she needed to first trust his.

“It seems I’ve not outgrown my clumsiness from my youth, and I nearly ran over Miss Jacobsen here.” He offered with a smile to Grace as he gently took her arm and pulled her closer, effectively preventing her from leaving.

“Oh, are you all right?” Grace asked, her words were sincere, but Ewan thought he saw a hint of relief in her expression.

“Yes, as I told the duke, the only injury is to my pride.”

“Lady Grace?” The unwelcome voice of Lord Shiply interrupted as he entered the circle of people now encompassing the offending bush that had caused the dilemma.

“Ah, Shiply,” Ewan welcomed his adversary dryly. When he glanced to Grace he saw her watching him with amusement. Perhaps she wasn’t as unaware of his affections as he had originally thought, or at least of his dislike of Shiply.

Ewan glanced over to Miss Jacobsen, intending to introduce them when he saw her face was flushed and she began to fan herself with wild motions. Her gaze was trained on Shiply, studying him with loving care and Ewan recognized her expression. He made the grand assumption that Miss Jacobsen knew Shiply, and knew him well enough to be in love with him.

Now, if only Shiply saw Rachel the same way.

“Shiply, allow me to introduce…” Ewan began.

“Rachel! Er, Miss Rachel,” she interrupted, extending her dainty hand toward Shiply as he smiled and took it, kissing the air above it. Ewan noticed Rachel’s slight shiver of delight as he did so. He was curious as to why she didn’t tell Shiply her last name.

“A pleasure, Miss Rachel,” Shiply replied graciously, but without the warmth and recognition that Ewan as hoping for. Before the opportunity passed him by, Ewan decided to do him and Miss Rachel a favor.

“Lady Grace, it seems they’ve started a waltz, I believe it belongs to me?” He spoke the words as a question but didn’t wait for her response. He took her arm gently and led her to the dance floor. With a quick glance behind him, he noticed Miss Rachel hadn’t taken her eyes off Shiply, but Shiply hadn’t taken his eyes from Grace’s retreating form.

“A gentleman always asks, rather than demands, you know,” Grace scolded him, but he noticed she didn’t pull her arm away or make a scene. Perhaps there was hope.

“I did ask.” He pulled her into a tight embrace and began the dance.

“No, you demanded in the form of a question, but that doesn’t make it a request any more than wearing a cravat makes you a gentleman.” Grace responded with a wry grin.

“Ahh, insulting me again, Grace?” Ewan asked as he looked down into her eyes, taking a deep breath to fortify him in his endeavor to win her affection.

“Always,” she quipped, but it wasn’t as sharp as she usually spoke, rather she looked a little lost, confused as she searched his eyes. Her grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, and she parted her lips as she took in a breath, causing Ewan to glance down at them.

Unable to hide his desire, he licked his own and pulled her in closer, inhaling the scent of rose and citrus he associated with her, only her. Had he ever told her what a beauty she had become?

~~~~

What was he doing? The deep blue of his eyes seemed to capture Grace’s focus, holding her captive and prisoner within their depths. Unable to look away, she felt panic begin in her chest as he caressed her face with his gaze. The heat in his eyes made her skin feel flushed, and she tried not to tremble as his hand tightened on her waist, drawing her closer.

“You are beautiful, Grace. I don’t think I’ve ever told you.” His muted tone rang with sincerity. But could it be true? Oh, he had implied it before, charmed her with his rakish looks and compliments, but he had never taken down the roguish veneer, as he had just done. He spoke as if stating it was simply acknowledging a universal truth, incontestable. It made her feel beautiful to the tips of her toes and warm from the inside out. Never had someone so simply complimented her with such great authenticity.

“Thank you.” It was all she could manage as she struggled to keep herself from falling even more in love with Ewan.
Shiply.
She had to think of Shiply, and then maybe she’d be able to erect the protective walls around her heart.

“Are you enjoying your evening?” Ewan asked, searching her eyes for a response before her lips gave it.

“Yes.”

Never had she been so without words! But as she took in the strong jaw and full lips of Ewan’s face as he spoke, she couldn’t form any more words in her hazy mind.

What would it be like to kiss him?
Surely it would be like heaven.

As if reading her thoughts, he focused his gaze on her lips and licked his own, causing heat to swirl in Grace’s belly. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from acting on its own accord, to refrain from reaching up to kiss Ewan in the middle of the crowded ballroom.

Ewan’s eyes darkened with a hungry desire she hadn’t seen before, and his breathing sounded labored as they twirled around the dance floor, unaware of anyone else. He pulled her closer still while his hands at her back seared her skin.

“Grace…” he whispered, speaking her name with reverence and — dare she hope, love?

“Hmm?” She allowed her gaze to wander from his hungry eyes to his full lips.

When the music ended, she found she couldn’t move from Ewan’s embrace. Even if she could have moved her body, Ewan wasn’t releasing her. After a deliciously tense moment where Grace waited and wondered, Ewan closed his eyes.

He took a deep breath and opened them. The way his eyes hungrily demanded her gaze left no question as to how he was affected as well. With a slight bow and an improper kiss to her gloved fingers that reminded her of the one she had received earlier — for which she had mercilessly berated him — he escorted her to the edge of the room.

“Until later.” He spoke the words as a promise, and after a slight hesitation, he trailed a finger down the edge of her face, leaving Grace shivering with hope as he walked away. Hope, she feared, would be her undoing.