Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,20

and Guinevere. The man appeared to have found who he had been looking for. Yet, if that were the case, why were they not wed? Had they engaged in intimacy and now Guinevere found herself abandoned by the man? His hatred for Kilgore flared, suddenly burning as hot as if five years had not passed. The logical part of his mind reminded him that it was not all Kilgore’s doing. Elizabeth had told him that Guinevere had planned to obtain a proposal from Kilgore that Season and that she had been thrilled when Asher had paid her attention, so she could use him to make Kilgore jealous. It would be more reasonable for him to find sweet revenge in knowing that, even as Guinevere had attempted to use him, she had been used, but he’d never been reasonable or logical when it came to Guin.

The stubborn part of his mind, which had never been able to totally forget her or the image of Kilgore kissing her that night, wondered exactly what had transpired between them. They must not have ended the courtship or affair tragically or they would not be speaking so companionably now as if they were close friends. Or lovers.

His gut burned with even hotter anger, but he tried to push it aside. Guinevere was not his concern. He was here to obtain an introduction to Lady Constantine, begin his courtship, and secure his fortune.

Guinevere’s husky laughter brought his gaze to her once more. God, she looked ravishing in red. Like a ripe berry waiting to be plucked or a shiny red apple begging to be bitten. God save him. He hated her and lusted for her at the same time.

What were they talking about? He found himself staring. He should look away. Damn the loud chattering people around him.

“Who is your next set with?” Kilgore asked Guinevere.

Guinevere looked startled, as if her bluff had been called. He studied her as a lovely blush creeped slowly up the creamy expanse of her décolletage and continued on to wash a tempting rosy color over the long, graceful column of her neck and across her achingly beautiful face.

Her obvious agitation should be perfect, but it wasn’t. Why the devil didn’t he feel more pleasant about her misery? Her gaze darted around the room, as if searching for something or someone. Who she was supposed to dance with? Or had she lied? Was she attempting to avoid dancing a set with Kilgore? Maybe Asher had judged the situation incorrectly. Maybe Kilgore had hurt Guinevere, and though she’d once done her own share of damage to Asher, he didn’t like seeing her upset, as much as he’d thought he might.

“‘Wherefore art thou, Romeo?’” she blurted in the most charming way only she had ever been able to achieve when agitated. Her green eyes popped wide, and her delicate hand slapped rather unladylike over her pouty pucker. Did she still taste like fresh strawberries and cream? His body tightened at the memory.

Guinevere Darlington was a liar. She had not promised the next dance to anyone. That much was clear to any man who wasn’t blind. He should let her drown like the conniving cat she was and simply remind himself she was the cause of her situation. He should, but he wouldn’t.

“Ye called?” he found himself saying as if some lunatic had taken over his body. He was stepping toward her and taking her hand like a foolish valiant rescuer before he could think better of it. So much for searching out Lady Constantine. She would have to wait until the dance was over.

Guinevere’s mouth parted, and a fascinating display of shock, wariness, and begrudging acquiescence played across her face before it became a mask of sublime indifference. If it weren’t for her fingers so stiff in his or their previous encounter by the tree—he was still shocked about that—he might believe he didn’t affect her. But her chest rose enticingly with each subtle breath, and her eyes darted to Lady Lilias, who by her slack expression, was not as practiced at hiding her emotions as Guinevere was.

She let out a small sigh. Her jade eyes met his. Resignation flashed, but it was gone with a blink of her long, dark lashes. A brittle smile came to her lovely lips. “I had utterly forgotten you.” Her cool tone cut the silence that had descended on their small group. She pressed her lips together but failed to completely hide the fact that she was