To Tame a Dragon (7 page)

But now Jameson was her main concern. Of
course she wanted him to feel the sting of his reprehensible
behavior; no man should escape his obligations easily, especially
the self-made variety. No matter how much money or
connections or beauty a man had, it was a bad precedent to let
him act outside the acceptable bonds of society without
suffering for it.

At the same time, she did not want him to be
ostracized. She wanted him to know that he could not treat some
other girl in the same dastardly manner. However, she did not
want him to lose his societal standing permanently and not be
able to marry at all when the time came. It was a fine line she
had set for herself, but she did so love a challenge.

She listened to some whispers, chatted with a
few ladies known to have loose tongues, and decided that Jameson
would be okay, at least for the night. His reputation as a
devil-may-care dandy had gained while his face and fortune
remained quite impressive. Amelia had already heard more than
one lady say that if
she
were ever so lucky as to catch
Lord Nighting, one could be assured it would be a short
engagement.

Jameson, for his part, danced and smiled and
bantered with every woman who crossed his path. He made love to
them all and Amelia did not think it spoke well of her sex to
see so many faces filled with the same expression of love, hope,
and pity after Jameson was done with them. He cut a swath
through the oldest, most disagreeable dowager to the youngest,
silliest girl and ended bright-eyed at Amelia.

He handed her a drink. “I believe I have
undone all the good work
the fiasco
did to keep the
mothers away from me, but I will admit it has been great fun
watching disapproval turn to my favor. It is quite a rush,
Amelia dear, to shape someone’s opinion so decidedly. I can see
now why you engage in the sport.”

“It can hardly be called sport when I have
lined them up for you in advance. But you are taking them down
well all the same.”

“Thank you, my dear. But you do not seem to
be enjoying the evening as well as I. No proposals tonight?”

He stopped his laugh at her indignant look.
“No. I have spent an inordinate amount of time gossiping with
young girls these last weeks. There really has been no
opportunity for some young hot-head to believe he’s fallen in
love with me.”

“Maybe next week then.”

She pursed her lips and he laughed as she
fought to keep a smile off her face.

“Come, Amelia. Take a turn with me. Take your
pleasure where you can and return refreshed to battle once
again.”

She put her hand in his. “Perhaps one set.
The situation does seem to be in control at the moment.”

“Wellington himself couldn’t have
orchestrated a more advantageous field. But I would appreciate
it if you would let me lead on
this
field. A waltz loses
some of its beauty when one of the parties refuses to be led
around the dance floor.”

“And I would appreciate it if you stopped
telling everyone I whirl you around. My partners handle me much
rougher than necessary.”

Jameson led her into position, holding her a
little closer than prudence allowed until she tapped his arm
with her fan. He released her slightly with a smile.

“Ah, Dragon. I don’t believe I was the one
that started that rumor.”

“You don’t believe it was you? Can you not
remember?”

“You know how these things start. And I can’t
be the only dance partner you have ever wrested control from. I
can’t think of even one dance with you that did not end in a
game of tug-of-war.”

“You are insulting my dancing skills.”

“Yes. Pistols at dawn?” He looked down at her
and his eyes captured hers. “Or perhaps I will simply have to
show you how enjoyable it can be to follow a man’s lead.”

For half a second she stared at him, then
realized with a jolt that he was making love to her. To
her
.
He had captured her attention so completely that she barely
noticed any of the other dancers, only him.

Oh, he went about it insulting and shocking
her instead of charming and flattering as he’d done with every
other woman tonight. But his purpose was the same, his clever
stratagem only showing how well he knew her and that he was
playing to win. His attention was focused on her, on winning her
over to his side. All night long she had seen him engross
himself in whatever lady was in front of him and now here he
was, doing it to her.

She snapped out, “Jameson! Really! Control
yourself. I am not one of your conquests.”

His eyes twinkled. “Not yet, my dear. You
require more than a dance or two to change your mind. I find the
challenge to be quite thrilling.”

 She looked at him in consternation.
“And just what opinion of mine is it that needs changing? I have
always thought you a reprobate and that has not affected my
friendship with you.”

He laughed. “I can not decide if you have
higher standards than society or lower.”

She pursed her lips. “Perhaps they are just
different.”

“Perhaps. But even you seem to have limits on
the
kind
of relationship you will undergo with such a
reprobate. Not that I blame you, my dear. Had you any fewer
standards one of your many proposals would have tempted you by
now and mine would be but a fantasy.”

She huffed. “Kindly do not bring up that
nonsense again. You have gone quite mad over this marriage
business, proposing to all and sundry.”

“Would Miss Underwood be the all and you the
sundry? Two proposals in a man’s lifetime does not seem wildly
unusual.”

“Wildly unusual. That will be your epitaph. I
will personally engrave it on your headstone myself if you
persist with this senselessness.”

He looked thoughtful. “Murderous tendencies,
you did warn me. Is this where I show you how useful a charming
husband could be? This ill-humor of yours can not be good for
health or digestion. And there is a disturbing vein protruding
from your temple.”

He stroked a finger across her temple, then
pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Perhaps you are simply
overheated. It is uncommonly crowded tonight.”

He began maneuvering them closer to the
doors. She resisted, proving him right that she could not go one
dance without turning it into a skirmish. He merely laughed,
gripped her tighter about the waist, and muscled her to the
doors. She had no doubt it looked little like a waltz but hoped
the ballroom was too crowded for any to notice.

She gripped his arm in an attempt to keep
from falling and said tartly, “I believe you enjoy making a
spectacle of yourself.”

“My dear, I
live
for it. And you are
so obliging. It would be so very tedious to make a spectacle by
one’s self.”

He kept her near the doors despite her
struggles to move them farther back into the room. His chuckles
drove her nearly mad and she did indeed fear this ill-humor
would adversely affect her health. She knew it was going to
adversely affect
his
sometime in the near future; she
would make sure of it.

He swept them out the doors as soon as the
music ended and did not bother to release her; he simply
propelled her into the cool night air, across the balcony, and
down into the garden. She saw not a soul, his careful
positioning during the dance ensuring they would be the first
outside.

She unconsciously lowered her voice in the
sudden hush. “Jameson, you have taken leave of your senses. If
you do not stop manhandling me I will be forced to emulate
Clarice and her unmanning of you.”

He tsked at her. “Really, Amelia. I expect
more originality from you. That scene has been done.”

Her breathless struggles prevented her from
replying; she merely doubled her efforts to halt their headlong
pace. She was gratified to hear his breathing become just as
erratic, but it slowed him down none at all.

Their skirmish ended on a small ornamental
bridge crossing a trickling stream. He whipped her around to
overlook the stream and stepped behind her, encircling her with
his arms and gripping the railing tight.

She stood trapped for a moment, silent,
regaining her breath. The instant she realized her backside was
plastered along his front, she stiffened. She turned her head to
lambaste him and her lips grazed his excruciatingly close cheek.
She jerked her head away.

She hissed, “You have gone
mad
!”

His breathing had quieted and he said softly
into her ear, “I simply needed to get you alone, my dear. You
are the one who turned it into a battle.” A puff of his breath
played across her cheek. “I must admit I did not expect the
battle to be so very exciting. I am beginning to think those
scads of suitors pursuing you are not so half-witted after all.”

“Half-witted for chasing me at all, do you
mean? Yet here you are, king of the half-wits.”

He brushed a fingertip across the back of her
neck, playing with the small curls at the base of her hair. A
shiver ran down her spine and her skin seemed to come alive,
tingling at his touch.

“Not for chasing you; for thinking they could
properly appreciate you after so short a time. You are an
acquired taste.”

“Like a Stilton?”

She felt his chest rumble with laughter. “Or
a Roquefort. I love a good Roquefort.”

“How very unpatriotic. If you are going to
compare me to a stinky cheese at least have the decency to
choose an English one.”

He bent his head and whispered into her ear,
his hot breath caressing her skin. “Has there not even been one,
my little Stilton? Not one man in all the bunch that made you
hesitate? That made you wonder if you were missing something?”

She ignored her sensitized skin, her
erratically beating heart. “No.”

He stroked her arm. “Are you hesitating now?
Are you wondering if I could show you what you were missing?”

His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her
tightly against him. His erection probed her bottom and warmth
spread downward from the contact.

Words seemed to have deserted her so she
shook her head.

His hand rested lightly below her breast and
his voice continued to lay siege to her senses. “You are
wondering, aren’t you? I like thinking I’m the only one.”

He pressed her even more firmly against him
and his teeth scraped gently against her ear. He licked and
sucked, then moved down her neck. He nuzzled her, right behind
her ear, his stubble grazing lightly, and her body burst into
feeling. Every inch of her flesh pebbled and a small sound
escaped her throat.

He gripped her tighter, his breath huffing
into her ear. “I have found a chink in your scales, Dragon.”

She opened her mouth to set him straight and
instead shivered as he resumed his attentions on her neck. Heat
raced through her body and she did indeed fear he had found a
chink.

He used his teeth and tongue and breath on
her neck while his fingers moved slowly, tracing the neckline of
her dress. No sound penetrated their embrace, only his breath
hot and loud in her ear. She was mesmerized by it, her breathing
accelerating to rise and fall with his.

He cupped her jaw, turning her head toward
him. His eyes were hot in the moonlight and she had no
resistance left in her mutinous body when he captured her lips
with his. They were soft and hot and his scent filled her.

He kissed her as if nothing else existed for
him, as if she alone was everything he would ever need. She held
on to the railing for support, the wrought-iron cool against her
heated skin. His mouth plundered hers and she desperately clung
to the railing as if it could keep her from falling into his
kiss, into him.

A low grumble escaped his throat and he
pulled her away from the railing, turning her body into his,
fitting her tightly against him. Her arms wrapped around his
waist and she kissed him back. All thought was forgotten; she
could only feel. His arms were tight around her, his hands
gripping her bottom and pulling her into that hard, probing part
of him.

A high-pit
c
hed laugh intruded,
bringing her abruptly back to herself. She was in a garden, with
Jameson still kissing her senseless. She panicked, thinking only
of being seen, of having to once again defend her reputation, to
endure the insults and slights and knowing looks. And this time
she would deserve it all. She had lost all care for decorum, for
propriety. She had
melted
into him.
She could
hardly remember her own name, though his pulsed in her head with
each heart beat.
Jameson, Jameson, Jameson
.

She stomped down hard on his foot and when he jerked in surprise, brought
her tight fist up into his belly.
He stumbled back, the opposite railing catching him from falling
into the little stream.

They stared at each other, their breathing
ragged. The heat left his eyes and the panic left hers.

The high-pitched laugh rang out again and
Jameson straightened. “Quite right, my dear. I had not expected
to be quite so overcome.”

He looked at her a moment, then huffed out a
laugh and sketched her a bow. Amelia watched him stride away,
unable to decide whether or not she was glad for the desertion. In any
case, she was left alone in the cool night air.

She slowly let out the breath she had been
holding. Dear Lord, the man was
capable
.

She stared unseeing at the spot he had just
deserted and wondered for the first time if there was indeed something she was
missing.