Wicked Again (The Wickeds #7) - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,7
Enderly, but far more interested in his political connections. An affair with Enderly would be pleasant. He wouldn’t devour her like a starving man nor threaten her heart in the least. An understanding with him would be considered appropriate and respectable.
Versus an affair with Haddon, which would not.
Adelia shot her a knowing look. “Tell me.”
Marissa kept her expression bland. “There’s nothing to tell, Adelia.”
Adelia swatted her with her fan. “Liar.”
Haddon stopped halfway across the ballroom to speak to two gentlemen, neither of whom Marissa recognized. One slapped him on the back in greeting and pointed in the direction of the room set up for cards. He smiled and nodded, but the silver gaze never wavered from Marissa.
“Goodness. I’ve torn the ribbon on my slipper,” Adelia said from beside her.
“Adelia, don’t you dare desert me at such a time.” Marissa lifted her chin in polite inquiry, making sure her features displayed none of her inner turmoil. She instructed her heart to be still and not flop about in her chest as if she were having a fit of apoplexy. Had he affected her this way when she’d first seen him at the house party across the length of Pendleton’s dining room table?
Yes. I nearly melted into a puddle as he watched me sip my wine.
“I must repair my slipper immediately, darling. I wouldn’t want to trip when I’m claimed for a dance, as we both know I will be. You can thank me later. And I’ll expect a full recounting.” She winked, wandering off into the crowd though Marissa doubted Adelia would go any further than the refreshment table. She was far too curious.
“Damn,” she said under her breath as he drew closer, automatically smoothing down the folds of her new gown. A stunning creation of sapphire with brilliants sewn across the bodice and skirt with silver thread, the color matched her eyes. An egg-shaped diamond, a gift from her father some years ago, hung from her neck, drawing attention to her dangerously low neckline and the swell of her breasts. Diamond and sapphire earrings dangled from her ears. And with a silent thank you to Mr. Coventry, not a spot of gray shone in her dark hair. She looked her best to greet her former lover.
Dalliance.
Despite wanting to forget him, the memory of Haddon never left Marissa, no matter how busy she had kept herself since her return to town. The destruction of Simon and his mother did take up a great deal of her time. And of course, she had holiday festivities to plan. Haddon shouldn’t have entered her thoughts at all.
“Lady Cupps-Foster.” The light, spicy scent Haddon favored hovered about his broad shoulders as he bowed before her.
Marissa inhaled sharply, filling her nostrils. Haddon’s scent had stayed with her, lingering along with her memories of him and the night she’d spent in his arms.
He took her hand, eyes flitting across her bosom as he straightened, a soft purr of male appreciation coming from his chest. The brush of his lips against her knuckles sent a tendril of warmth from her core to slide between her legs. But the touch of his tongue made her knees buckle.
Marissa abruptly snatched her hand from his.
A mischievous grin crossed his lips, meant to disarm her and indeed any lady he bestowed it upon. It made him quite irresistible.
An image of Haddon walking toward her, naked, the same grin firmly in place on his lips, flitted before her eyes.
The ballroom had grown very warm. She resisted the urge to fan herself.
Realistically, for any woman her age, there was always bound to be someone in the room she had been involved with. Two of Marissa’s previous lovers were at the Cambourne ball tonight, in fact, though she couldn’t for the life of her remember how they looked naked, nor, upon greeting them tonight, had she felt as if her heart might burst from her chest.
“Lord Haddon, how lovely to see you again.”
“Isn’t it though?” His grin widened further. “Dance with me?” he said as the musicians began to play. Without waiting for an answer, Haddon took her hand in his and led her out to the dance floor, his grip on her fingers tight as the sapphire skirts of her gown wrapped around them both.
Marissa had always found the sensation of silk hugging her to a gentleman as they danced to be mildly erotic, though much more so with Haddon than, say, Enderly.
Haddon was a graceful dancer, confident and agile. Turning her expertly, he