Page 2 of An Unexpected Earl

Pearce choked on his drink.

Good Lord, he’d never seenthatbefore at one of these parties. Neither had Lord Derby, based on his stunned expression and the bruise undoubtedly forming on his crown.

Yet the little minx had the nerve to feign surprise at what she’d done, followed by a mumbled apology even as she attempted to sashay away.

But the earl pursued. This time, when he grabbed her fully into his arms, she gave him a hard push that sent him rocking onto his heels. Derby only laughed, still determined to find his way beneath her skirts, and grabbed her once more into his arms, this time too tightly for her to fight her way free.

Pearce’s grin melted into a grimace. He snagged a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing footman and sauntered forward. That red flash of temptation not only beckoned but now also needed to be rescued.

“Scarlet,” he called out. “There you are!”

Derby looked up, startled.

Seizing on the distraction, the woman shoved her way out of Derby’s arms. She wheeled around to face Pearce.

At the sight of him, her green eyes flared from behind the mask that covered everything except for her sensuous lips, and she froze like a doe startled by hunters. But then, so did he…except for his gaze, which dropped deliberately over her from head to slippers.

Sweet Lucifer. The back of her might have been pure sin, but the front was simply soul-stealing.

Her hair cascaded over one shoulder in a riot of golden curls that teased seductively at the swell of her breasts, visible above the low-cut neckline of her tight bodice. But for all that the shimmering satin of her dress captivated him and those silky tresses had him longing to brush his hands through them, what struck him was the gold locket she wore around her neck on a little blue ribbon. The schoolgirl innocence of that single piece of jewelry undercut the sinfulness of the red gown in startling contradiction.

More. The sight of the locket jarred something inside him, knocking loose from the past a memory he couldn’t quite place yet one so familiar that it begged to be remembered… Damnation, did he know her?

He sent her a far too intimate smile. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you slip away, sending me on a merry chase to find you.”

Her brilliant eyes grew wider, but wisely, she said nothing.

“Shame on you.” He winked at her.Trust me…Then he glanced past her to Derby, the man standing so close at her side that surely he could see right down her dress to her navel. His smile tightened. “Ah, you’ve been making friends.”

“Pearce,” Derby bit out with his own forced smile. Like half the peers in the Lords, he refused to acknowledge that Pearce was now one of them by not using his title.

The man probably considered the slight an insult. Pearce considered it a compliment.

“Derby.” Pearce stepped forward and took the woman’s arm to gently but possessively move her safely away from the earl and to his side. “I see you’ve met my Scarlet.”

“Yes.” Derby’s mouth twisted. “I didn’t realize that you’d already claimed her.”

“Claimed?” Pearce clucked his tongue in chastisement, then lifted her hand to kiss the backs of her gloved fingers. “Can any man truly claim a woman like this?” He saw her arch a brow above her mask at that blatant whopper of a flirtation. “God knows I’m not man enough for her.”

At that, her other hand flew up to her lips to stifle a shocked gasp. Or a laugh. With this bold woman, it could have been either.

“Something in your throat, my dear? Here.” He held out the glass. “The champagne you requested.”

Her eyes sparkled as effervescently as the bubbles in the wine. “How thoughtful,” she mumbled as she accepted it, playing along.

“Anything for you, darling.”

Her mouth fell open. She covered her surprise at his audacity by quickly raising the glass to her lips.

Biting back a grin at her expense and unable to resist, he leaned over to place a kiss to her ear. She trembled but didn’t fling the champagne in his face.Good.He’d take his victories however he could get them.

He wrapped her arm around his. “Shall we dance?” Not giving her the chance to refuse, he led her toward the dance floor and tossed dismissively over his shoulder, “Goodbye, Derby.”

The earl said nothing. But as he turned and stomped away, Pearce was certain the man was cursing him, his ancestry, and every stray French bullet that had somehow managed to miss killing him during the wars.

The woman began to slip her arm away.

“Not so fast.” He placed his hand over hers to keep it on his jacket sleeve. “I helped you. It’s only fair that you now help me.”