Page 9 of Dangerous

Mia looked up at the man who’d just rubbed her nose in the humiliating memory. He stared back, his face unreadable. It occurred to her that perhaps she shouldn’t have probed into his past quite so crudely. Mia crushed the unwelcome notion like an annoying insect.

Rather than stab Exley with her fork—her preferred response—she gave him a silky smile. “It is a shame you were not there, my lord, perhaps I could have taught you something.”

His pupils flared and he leaned toward her. “Perhaps you can teach me something tonight. Do you have any dances remaining—maybe a reel?”

Hateful, odious wretch.

“If entertainment is what you seek, you shall have it, my lord. I will reserve no less than the opening set for you.” She punctuated her words by turning her back on him.

Chapter Four

Adam stared at her stiff shoulders and rigid back and grimaced. She’d baited him and he had reacted without thinking, his response brutal and unsporting—something he never did.

She laughed at something Horace Chambers said and the older man grinned as though his horse had just won the Gold Cup at Ascot. The old roué had watched Carlisle’s daughter with the eyes of a jealous lover from the moment they’d all sat down at the dinner table. The instant she turned away from Adam, Chambers had descended on her like a boar in rut.

The older man was a repellant deviant with an evil reputation, but was Adam any better? He’d behaved toward Euphemia Marlington like the cruel beast he was reputed to be. He was sitting at this table, a party to this farce. No, Adam wasn’t any different from Chambers or any of the other degenerate horrors Carlisle had assembled.

A wave of self-loathing swept over him. Had it come to this? Would he compete with molesters, drunks, and diseased fortune hunters for a woman who’d no doubt had little say in the sordid auctioning of her person? Was he willing to mortgage what remained of his dignity for an heir?

A footman cleared away his untouched soup and three more servants appeared behind him, each bearing heaping platters of delicacies. Adam hadn’t attended a large ton dinner since service à la russe had become fashionable. He decided the process was fatiguing. He signaled another footman to replenish his Madeira.

His eyes wandered over the other dinner guests—none of whom would meet his gaze—as he pondered the woman beside him and the unexpected effect she’d had on him. She was the last thing he’d thought to find tonight. Her beautiful face and delectable figure weren’t all, or even most, of what he found fascinating. It was her sea-green eyes, which overflowed with curiosity, humor, and sheer life.

Adam realized his gaze had drifted back to her perfect profile. She moved with such grace that even the simple process of putting food into her shapely pink mouth looked like an act of Eastern deviance. With her looks and her father’s money she should have no problem finding a decent spouse, and yet the duke had assembled the worst men society had to offer.

She must have done something truly heinous.

Adam’s lips twisted bitterly; coming from him that was a richly ironic conclusion. What if the only thing she was guilty of was being an object of gossip? Who knew better than he how easily the ton judged, sentenced, and punished its members without any evidence?

She turned her green catlike eyes his way and caught him staring. She lifted one flame-colored eyebrow, a slight, mocking smile on her face.

Adam deliberately mirrored her action, amused as she tried—and failed—to suppress a smile. Once it started, it just kept growing, displaying white, even teeth and a tiny crescent-shaped dimple at the corner of her mouth.

“What are your plans after the Season is over?” he asked with careful politeness, determined to behave himself for the remainder of the meal.

“We are to retire to our family seat.” She might have smiled at him, but the reserve in her voice told him she’d not forgiven him quite yet. She glanced at the platter the footman held beside her and her lips compressed in a moue of distaste before she helped herself to a portion.

“You do not care for saumon en gelée?” he asked, amused.

“It is not what I am accustomed to.”

“Oh? What are you accustomed to?”

She wrinkled her nose and gave the gelatinous food a poke with her fork. “I am hungry for something that is not bland like infant food.”

“Such as?”

Her eyes glazed and her lips curled into a sensual smile that sent his blood rushing south.

What is this? He took a deep drink of wine.

She sighed heavily and the action did distracting things to her bodice. Not to mention Adam’s groin.

“I have been dreaming of dates.”

“Dates?” he repeated, certain he’d misheard.

“Dates.” Her eyes narrowed to sultry, emerald slits. “Sweet and plump and hot.” The tip of her pink tongue darted out and Adam’s heart stuttered. “They are firm and sticky and explode at the slightest pressure from my tongue, filling my mouth with their tangy heat.”