Who Wants a Brawling Baron (Romancing the Rake 6)

What had been surprising was how much he longed to let her practice the art on him.

“Is that why you never asked me to dance again?” She shifted closer, the warmth of her body radiating through his jacket.

“Precisely,” he said, resisting the urge to step away. That would look weak. But then again, he was fighting an even stronger urge to pull her against his body.

She lifted her hand, the one not holding champagne, and brushed it along the lapel of his jacket. A light touch that danced over his skin, making his skin tighten underneath his clothing. “But I’m really quite lovely. Everyone thinks so.”

“I am not everyone,” he said through gritted teeth. The truth was, he was everyone. At least in this regard. He’d fallen instantly under her spell.

She gave him a knowing smile. “No you’re not. Even I know that. And I’ve heard that girls like me should stay far away from men like you.” Her hand flattened on his chest, her palm brushing his nipple. Desire made his limbs heavy as the damn treacherous flesh tightened in response, giving him away.

He gave his head a small shake as he reached for her gloved hand resting on the lapel of his coat and carefully removed it.

Except, now that her hand was in his, he could see how much smaller her fingers and palm were compared to his. He found himself holding onto the hand. “They’re right.”

“What makes you bad?” she asked, her voice dropping to a tempting whisper. As though they were lovers sharing a secret. The words actually rose to his lips because, if he shared them, she sounded as though she’d join him in the debauchery.

He needed to end this and he needed to do so quickly. Charlie felt too nice this close, her hand in his, and she’d haunt his dreams again tonight for certain. And likely tomorrow too. The day after and the day after that. “Well, for starters…” He lowered his head to just a few inches from hers and could see the specks of green in her hazel eyes, smell the champagne on her breath. “I pay lots of women to share my bed.” He knew his revelation was the exact sort of thing that would scandalize her and his words hit their mark.

She gasped in a breath as she took a step back and then another, one hand covering her mouth. Her fingers dropped a fraction of an inch. “Beast,” she accused, her eyes crinkling in hurt or accusation. He couldn’t be certain.

“My parties aren’t for you. I am not for you,” he said, crossing his arms again. “Stay away from me, Lady Charlotte.”

Chapter Two

Charlie stared at the Baron of Balstead, wanting to give him a good slap in the face. She’d only wanted a bit of fun. A diversion from the monotony of life in the country and he’d been rude.

She spun about and started back up the stairs. She could confess to herself that this man in particular was not just an idle diversion. Several men had pressed their favor in London, but none had made her heartbeat quicken like Balstead. Something about his large frame, the almost dangerous glint to his eyes set her pulse racing through her veins.

When she’d first seen him standing below her in the entry, she’d had a moment where she was certain fate had brought them together again.

Not that she wanted to fall in love. Even she knew that Balstead wasn’t the sort of man a woman like her married. But she did wish to test the flutter he so effortlessly caused in her stomach. Was that sort of excitement the answer to her constant need for action and attention?

She slipped back into the music room, taking her seat on the settee once again. Whatever the answer to her boredom was, Balstead couldn’t provide it. The man had been positively dreadful. She ignored the other thought that popped into her mind. The one that said he was also delightfully masculine. She thought to the feel of his bulging muscles under her hand and shivered.

Her fingers shook a bit as she took another healthy swallow of her beverage. She had little experience with the bubbly concoction sliding down her throat but the liquid seemed to quiet her thoughts as the butler appeared in the doorway once again.

“May I present the Baron of Balstead.”

The room went silent.

Charlie, rather than rise, lay back on the settee propping her head up on her hand and sliding her feet onto the lush cushions.

She had no intention of rising and curtsying for him.

“Charlie,” Cordelia murmured from just behind her. “Do get up.”

Charlie let out a soft breath. Cordelia was one of her favorite Moorish sisters, though she liked them all and for her host’s sake, she rose.

Balstead glared at her from the doorway, but she refused to meet his gaze, instead staring at the wall just to his left.

Mr. Moorish stepped forward, shaking the man’s hand, and inviting him to join them. “You are just in time, my lord. Dinner will be served soon.”

“Most gracious,” Balstead said, his voice rumbling low and deep. “I shouldn’t stay. I’ve yet to secure a room.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Moorish returned. “You’re free to stay here. Tell me, what brings you to Seabridge Gate?”

“Do tell,” Charlie murmured, though several others heard and turned a curious eye to first her and then Balstead.