Wicked Again (The Wickeds #7) - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,9
I don’t care for. An older widow carrying on with—”
“Dear God, Marissa.” He looked away from her, the corner of his lip lifting into something resembling amusement. “You didn’t seduce some innocent young lad; stop behaving as if you did.”
“I didn’t do any seducing,” she shot back.
“Debatable. I was under the impression we seduced each other, not out of boredom, as I’m sure will be your next point, but because we were meant to.” His broad shoulders gave a soft roll.
Marissa stayed silent, uncertain how to respond.
“You know, I never really considered your elderly status at the time, but you brought it up so often during our brief acquaintance, perhaps your concerns have merit.”
“They do?”
“You’re a highly intelligent woman. Older and wiser than I. Shouldn’t I listen to your counsel?”
The heat of him bled through the thick silk and layers of petticoats, caressing her skin as they danced. Each time he spun her, Haddon managed to notch the length of one muscled leg into her skirts and between her legs. Deliberately.
“Stop doing that,” she hissed beneath her breath. A slow, honeyed ache followed the movement, driving her mad. “Do you intend to cause a scene?”
“What? This?” He pulled her a fraction of an inch closer and moved his thigh into her skirts again, sliding his leg in a sinuous motion. “I’m merely dancing.”
A flutter of arousal slid down the length of her body at Haddon’s very calculated teasing though Marissa was doing her best to ignore the sensation. Desperate to provide a distraction, she said, “I see you’ve made the acquaintance of Lady Christina Sykes.”
“An incomparable beauty with an impeccable lineage,” Haddon acknowledged. “A gentleman could do worse than to wed her. She’s a lovely girl.”
“She’s very young,” Marissa said, hating the prick of jealousy at the thought of Haddon dancing with Lady Christina the way he danced with her.
“You don’t sound as if you approve. Shouldn’t I seek someone closer to my own age? I’m barely out of the schoolroom, after all.” The mischievous grin, the one she found so endlessly endearing, floated across his mouth.
Marissa forced herself to smile up at him. “I’m sure my approval is of no consequence. I’m only concerned.”
“How very maternal of you, Marissa.”
She deliberately stepped on his toe.
Haddon grunted in pain.
“Lady Christina is barely older than Jordana,” she said. “But it is none of my affair who you deem a suitable bride. If your aim is to find a wife, Christina Sykes would serve as well as any.” She forced the words up her throat though they left a bitter taste.
Spinning her about, he gave her a wolfish grin before murmuring, “The lady doth protest too much.”
Her heel ground into the top of his foot. “Pardon me. I seem to have two left feet this evening. Goodness.”
Haddon’s fingertips dug into the silk at her hip. “I’m only acknowledging the vast difference in our ages. One you’ve brought to my attention repeatedly during our previous dalliance. Are you old enough to be my mother?” He pretended to consider the question. “Good lord, how depraved I am.”
Marissa was going to slap him, right here in the middle of a dance with most of the ton watching. “While there is an age difference, my lord, I assure you—”
“And in regard to Christina,” he interrupted her tirade, “you also suggested during our dalliance that I need to remarry. Truthfully, I hadn’t considered wedding again until you brought it to my attention. Again, I’m thankful for your guidance.”
She bit her lip, knowing she couldn’t refute his claim. Haddon was correct on all counts. She had been the one to bring up his need to remarry and produce a male heir. At that moment, Marissa could have cheerfully kicked herself for reminding him of his duty.
In addition to his age and his need for an heir, there was also the added complication of Simon and his murderous mother Lydia. Haddon and Pendleton were friends.
Haddon was wrong for her in every way she could imagine.
“I’ve something I wish to discuss with you, my lady.”
“Oh?” There was a slight, hopeful leap of her traitorous heart before remembering it would be best if she didn’t allow him to seduce her again. Haddon was far too dangerous. They could remain acquaintances and nothing more.
“May I call upon you? I would prefer not to have a private discussion here.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed, ignoring the slight racing of her pulse.
The dance ended, and Haddon led her off the dance floor, a wisp of a