To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance) (7 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

BOOK: To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance)
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She was not a young debutante, wide-eyed with wonder at her first ball. She had danced with countless gentlemen in her life. Men who flattered her outrageously, pledged undying devotion and love, threatened to do themselves bodily harm if she did not look upon them with favor.
Yet she found none of these bucks as compelling as being held in the arms of the Marquess of Dardington. That surprising realization troubled her greatly.
“You disappoint me, Lady Meredith. Luring me onto the dance floor with subtle hints of outrageous behavior and then retreating behind a wall of proper silence. ’Tis most unfair.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “Please, forgive my proper, reflective behavior. I shall endeavor most studiously to utter something of monumental impropriety the moment I catch my breath.”
“Excellent.”
“Ahh, now I am truly feeling the pressure to be sparkling and witty.” She felt his shrewd eyes on her face, but surprisingly her nerves began to ease. He led her into a graceful turn and her mouth curved broadly. “You must allow me a moment to marshal my composure, or I shall trod upon your shiny shoes. It has been a long time since I danced a waltz.”
“I do not believe you.”
“ ’Tis true.” She paused a moment, allowing the enchanting music and graceful rhythm of the dance to lull her. She felt like she was floating as the cool air rushed by her cheek. “I spend the majority of my evenings at home. There is hardly anyone appropriate to waltz with, though I suppose if I were desperate I could ask one of the footmen. I am, however, uncertain if they know the steps.”
“Are you as much of a recluse from society as I?”
“Nearly. I find I attend fewer and fewer events each year,” Meredith admitted. “I do not enjoy the activities of the Season, nor the company of many of the esteemed members of Society.”
“Why?”
Meredith gave a shrug of nonchalance. “I fear I have never been able to discuss feminine pursuits with much authority, and my competence in business affairs long ago labeled me a bluestocking.”
“What has saved you from utter ruin?”
“My outrageous sense of propriety?”
“I think it is more your ready sense of humor.” His hold around her waist tightened fractionally, drawing her closer.
Meredith smiled. “Alas, my unusual appreciation for the absurd has offended more than one self-centered, overblown aristocrat.”
“You have easily described half the people in this room.”
“I think two thirds is a more accurate count. Many object to me and my odd ideas on principle alone.”
The marquess shook his head. “And yet you hold no grudges?”
Meredith lifted her chin. “I react without malice to their slights, for that only frustrates them more. It was a trick Lavinia taught me, though I know in my heart I shall never achieve her grace and charm and kindness with such easy fluency. She was a dear friend, and one of the finest women I have ever known.”
“That is because conversation and wit came naturally to her,” the marquess answered readily. “As well as her affinity for society.”
“ ’Tis true. Her natural gifts made her a well-respected and sought-after addition to any social gathering.” Meredith felt a tug at her heart, remembering her friend. “I, on the other hand, must work very hard at being amusing and entertaining.”
“Not so very hard, I think.”
“You are being kind, my lord.”
The marquess’s gaze clung to hers and it was dark with emotion. “I am being honest.”
The unexpected compliment startled Meredith and she nearly missed a step. He held her tightly as she swayed unsteadily, and she could feel the heat of his body, the raw strength in his arms.
She fought to hold herself stiffly, for the sudden urge to mold her body softly against his was overwhelming. Her heart jolted at this thoroughly disconcerting notion.
Meredith’s cheeks went warm. Though she knew he could hardly read her thoughts, she worried he had somehow known what she felt, for his gaze was probing and far too perceptive.
They finished the waltz as they had begun, in silence. The music ended with a resounding crescendo and the dance was done. The marquess turned his head and scanned the crowded ballroom with great interest. Meredith felt herself blushing. While not being precisely rude, it was obvious the marquess had dismissed her from his thoughts.
Meredith held her smile steady, trying to ignore the unwelcome bite of disappointment. It was usually she who sought refuge from an ardent male, not the other way ’round. Was she truly becoming the undesirable spinster her brothers thought her to be?
Meredith knew within moments the marquess would bow stiffly and escort her off the dance floor. It seemed unlikely he would seek out her company again, and Meredith was unsure if she possessed the courage to approach him a second time.
If she had any hope of winning that ridiculous wager and proving to herself she was not set firmly upon the shelf, she would have to act now.
“The room is warm, my lord,” Meredith said anxiously. “Shall we take a stroll in the garden for a refreshing breath of air?”
He raised an eyebrow at her, and Meredith once again marveled. There was something so striking about him. Even his smallest gesture or expression seemed important.
“Are you not engaged for the next dance, Lady Meredith?”
“I have danced with only you this evening,” she said very quietly.
The marquess tensed, and his expression became guarded. She could almost sense the wariness that filtered through him. He remained silent for so long she was certain he was going to refuse her suggestion of a walk outside. Then he silently held out his arm. She grasped it eagerly, and they paraded across the room in full view of any who cared to be interested.
And many were. She was very aware of the speculative glances thrown their way, but Meredith took her cue from the marquess and ignored them all.
It was a moonless night. Only a few couples milled about in the corners of the large patio. Servants had lit torches on the perimeter of the slate terrace, and the light they cast was sufficient to see the shapes of the neatly tended bushes and rows of blooming flowers that comprised the garden.
The night air felt damp, but there was no mist. Instead layers of shadows spread over the gardens, curling around the gravel paths, casting strange shapes into the far corners.
A light breeze blew, ruffling the stray curls that had escaped from Meredith’s tightly coiled hair. She resisted the temptation to set them back in place, afraid the gesture would bring more attention to herself.
“Have you filled your lungs sufficiently with fresh air, Lady Meredith?”
The marquess sounded bored. She stiffened her spine and lifted her head, reminding herself the bet he had made with her brothers revealed much about his attitude and opinion of women. If nothing else, it would give her a great sense of satisfaction to make a sufficient adjustment to that pompous attitude.
Abruptly she cleared her throat and waved vaguely at the French doors leading to the ballroom. “Please don’t feel obligated to stay out here on my behalf, my lord. I understand perfectly if you wish to return to the party.”
She suspected that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was unpredictable enough to call her bluff.
When he did not reply, Meredith decided to tempt the fates once more. She moved forward slowly, then called over her shoulder to the marquess, “The enchanting fragrance of the garden beckons, my lord. I fear I must indulge myself.”
She sailed blithely down the stone steps, listening intently for the crunch of his footsteps behind her. As the silence lengthened, Meredith slowed her gait, but she resisted the urge to turn around.
She might be stubborn and occasionally willful, but she had her pride. If the marquess followed her into the darkness of the secluded garden, she would make every attempt to kiss the man senseless and win this outlandish wager. And if he did not, well, perhaps the loss of this bet would make an impression upon her brothers as to the fickle nature of gambling.
And perhaps pigs would learn to fly!
Meredith sensed a restless shifting behind her, then breathed a sigh when she heard the telltale crunch of a shoe upon the gravel. He was following her!
Eyes alert, Meredith strolled along the path. The marquess kept silent pace behind her. They did not speak, and she was glad, for she had long since run out of conversation.
What Meredith sought was privacy, for to be caught in the act of kissing the marquess would be disastrous for them both. A vague recollection of a pretty gazebo tucked away in a secluded area of the lawn had Meredith eagerly scanning the shadows with each step she took.
She nearly cried out with delight when she at last spied it. Meredith lifted her skirt and trod up the wooden steps of the structure, ducking her head to avoid becoming tangled in the hanging vines. She took a seat on the wicker sofa inside and waited.
He did not immediately follow her but instead stood outside the open-air gazebo. Through the silence of the still night, Meredith could clearly hear the sound of her own breathing.
“Tired, Lady Meredith?”
“A bit.”
She heard the note of sarcasm in his voice, and oddly understood it. Viewing the situation from his side, Meredith admitted her behavior the entire evening had been somewhat vexing. Mysterious and flirtatious, she had been poking him, jabbing at him, prodding him like a sleeping tiger.
With each request, each offhanded suggestion she had tweaked his curiosity, then resorted to silence. It was only a matter of time before the beast within him awoke and roared, and Meredith knew she must be prepared to jump out of harm’s way or be devoured.
The marquess at last climbed the steps to the gazebo and took a few short steps inside. He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at her. Even in the semidarkness she could see his confusion.
Meredith turned her head and stared out into the darkness. She clasped her hands together tightly, wiggled her fingers free, then clasped them together again.
“Why are we here, Lady Meredith?”
“To enjoy the night air, my lord.”
“I think not.” The marquess lowered his head wearily and moved forward.
He took a seat on the wicker sofa and Meredith slid over to allow him room. A tension permeated the air. Meredith admonished herself to behave with sensibility and calm, though there was little of that regarding what she was about to do.
It had been at least a year since she had been kissed. She struggled to remember the subtle approach used by the many men who had wooed her, who had attempted a seduction and received a cool set down for their efforts.
Sweet, flowery phrases and forceful embraces would hardly work in this instance. What was needed was directness, yet the very idea nearly gave her hives.
She risked a glance at him. He appeared not to notice, for the marquess gave a small sigh and stretched out his long legs. For a moment she relaxed.
All I need to do is wait. Before long he shall lean toward me, pull me into his embrace, and kiss me.
The notion was equally thrilling and comforting. But then Meredith clearly remembered the subtle nuances of the bet. It must be the spinster who kissed the rake. If that aspect of the wager was not met, she could not claim victory.
She turned expectantly toward him and her heart lurched. When she had lured him out here, her mind had been fixed on winning that ridiculous bet and proving to herself that she was not a prim and proper spinster. She intended only to steal a hearty, passionate kiss and then flee into the night before the marquess had time to recover his wits.
But as she gazed at his handsome profile in the semidarkness, she found herself wondering what it would be like to really kiss him, deep and slow and tender, with an intimate coupling of their tongues—to hold nothing back, to surrender completely to the hidden passion that lurked within her soul.
Knowing she had to act quickly, before her courage failed, Meredith moved closer to him. Her eyes remained fixed on his lips. He opened them to speak.
“Would you care to—”
Meredith lurched awkwardly forward and cut his words off with a kiss. For an instant she felt him stiffen—in surprise she fervently prayed, not revulsion.
She tried to keep the kiss light and soft, but she quickly found herself giving in to the temptation of his masculine beauty, sinking into the embrace, giving herself over to the emotions and excitement.
The marquess slanted his head to fit them closer together. Then his hand cupped the back of Meredith’s neck, drawing her forward. His hard lips softened, then opened slightly, allowing her to deepen the kiss.
Titillated at the invitation, Meredith slid her tongue inside, tasting the warmth of his mouth. A faint moan escaped. His? Hers?
She tried to ignore her quickening breath, the flush of desire that rushed through her. Her breasts began to swell, and a damp, tingling sensation fluttered between her legs.

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