had flummoxed him.
But tonight, when she smiled up at him, Nicolas felt like he was given the key to a secret kingdom—he only had to reach for her and everything he’d never known was missing from his life revealed itself. Through Maryann.
All that from a damn smile.
But to be so provocatively carnal in his thoughts toward the lady would not do.
Run. It makes no difference, he’d taunted, desperate to drag her into his arms and ravish that delightful mouth.
It was that feeling of desperation that had allowed him to draw back on the impulse and allowed the fires of passion stirring to life to die an unceremonious death. The only thing he should be desperate to do was complete his retribution.
Only that.
The viscountess arched a brow in affected dismay. “You are distracted.”
“I was never engaged.”
She pouted. “Are you minded to be disagreeable?”
His gaze cut to Lady Maryann before he controlled the impulse.
A curiously thoughtful expression settled on her face. “How astonishing…you are attracted to the mouse,” she said with feigned amusement. “I had thought it so odd you would dance with such a wallflower.”
A mouse. If they only knew the fire that rested below the facade Lady Maryann showed the world. Perhaps they did know, which was why they hurried to give her the sobriquet of wallflower, hoping it would dim her piquant prettiness and vivacity.
Tonight, she presented a lovely picture, with her lustrous hair piled on her head, exposing the graceful curve of her neck, with curls kissing along her forehead. Her slender, willowy build was draped in an elegant dress of cerulean blue. The off-the-shoulder bodice revealed Maryann’s unblemished shoulders, accentuating the fullness of her bosom and slenderness of her waist. Her prettiness was sublime. And one had to be blind to miss it.
“Spitefulness does not become you, Viscountess,” he drawled.
Outrage flared in her eyes, and her lips flattened.
“Keep your claws away from the lady.”
She sniffed, an air of offended dignity settling about her. He almost laughed at the hypocrisy.
“And if I do not?” the viscountess said tightly.
“My retaliation will be felt for years to come.”
Shock bloomed in her eyes, and he cursed himself silently and virulently. He allowed a carnal smile to curve his mouth and the viscountess flushed, her eyes darkening. “When I am done with her, then you can do what you will.”
“Oh, you are very wicked. She is an innocent or isn’t she?” The viscountess leaned in. “Whatever happened when you climbed into her chamber?”
“Are the rest of us to be privy to the conversation?” David asked archly in a timely intervention.
The conversation continued to flow at his end of the table, and he tried his absolute best not to allow his gaze to linger on her. Her vibrancy, her lush prettiness, that heart-bewitching smile seemed diminished. Or perhaps contained. She pushed back her chair and offered a small smile to their hostess at the end of the long table.
The viscountess said something to him that he missed, for Lady Maryann leaving the table snagged his awareness. Though Nicolas stared at David, he was very conscious of her walking past his chair and heading in the direction of the ballroom.
It was strange that he could not rid himself of the aching, perplexing desire to want to know her. Earlier in the shadows of the gardens, he had felt different, that the darkness that clung to him, the hatred that blackened his heart had vanished. It had been replaced with something unknown, but it felt warm and curious.
With every word they exchanged in conversation, something in him shifted, reshaped, and whatever that was, it surged to life whenever he spied her. He felt it in his heartbeat, that brief, alarming way it would stutter at his first sight of her before settling in a normal rhythm.
It made no sense to Nicolas. What was it about her? Certainly, she was very clever and amusing, with a wit and fierceness that bordered on scandalous. He liked that about her. That didn’t warrant his current preoccupation.
He excused himself several minutes later and made his way outside into the gardens, where he had a perfect view of the inside of the ballroom. She wasn’t there. Footsteps sounded behind him, and he did not have to turn to know it was David.
“Let it go,” his friend said, coming to a halt beside him.
Nicolas allowed his lips to curve in a humorless smile. “I am at a loss as to what you refer.”
“You left shortly after Lady Maryann,” David said mildly.
“You