Heath remained sitting there, totally immobile, as she disappeared inside the house. His mouth had gone dry, while his loins had tightened at the impact of that breathtaking smile.
A wet tongue licking his hand suddenly recalled him to his surroundings.
“I trust you do realize how lucky you are, my girl,” he said, glancing down at the dog, “garnering such singular attention from your new mistress. Would that I could say the same.”
Another lick was the response he got.
Repressing a wry grin, Heath waited
while his groom took the mare’s reins so as to lead her and mounted the hack.
Only then did Heath turn his gelding away from the house.
The desire to make love to Lily was still stinging his body. But he promised himself that it wouldn’t be long before he fulfilled his urgent need for her.
Lily was more upset by her confrontation with the brutish youths than she let on, for the encounter had forced her to recall an even uglier memory. One that was branded into her heart and soul.
But once her rage dissipated, she was determined to put it from her mind.
She was exceedingly glad, however, that the marquess had been with her when she’d impulsively charged down that alley. He had dealt with those louts in heroic fashion, not stopping to question that he was risking injury or worse to help her rescue a mongrel dog. And she trusted that he would provide for the injured animal’s welfare.
She had considerably less trust, Lily admitted as she sought refuge in the calming privacy of her bedchamber, in her own ability to withstand his masculine allure.
She’d found herself enjoying his lordship’s company far too much. He was delightful to converse with, charming and witty and interesting. He made her laugh, and he made her think.
What was more, she felt completely at ease with him.
Which was patently absurd. How could a man make her feel safe and so unsettled at the same time?
Lord Claybourne had only to look at her to make her heart beat faster. And when he smiled at her in that captivating way…There was something in his smile that made her feel special, appreciated, valued.
Perhaps that was the secret of his devastating success with the fair sex. He treated women as individuals in their own right, not simply as objects of desire.
Yet she had to remember he was only employing his well-honed amatory skills. She had to keep in mind the danger of letting herself become spellbound by his appeal.
And she would have to do better to resist him. He was winning their competition thus far, Lily acknowledged. And once she reported back to their judges about the events of the morning, he would be even farther ahead.
The judging went much as she predicted.
By the time Lord Claybourne was shown into the courtesans’ private sitting room that afternoon where Lily was waiting for him with Fleur and Chantel, she had truthfully recounted what had happened in the park and the alley.
And her friends were charmingly effusive in their welcome.
“Hail the hero,” Chantel declared, fluttering her eyelashes provocatively at the marquess when he bent over her hand in greeting.
“Indeed,” said Fleur just as fervently. “It was splendid, how you championed Lily in that brave manner, my lord.”
“You give me too much credit,” he responded lightly, shooting a glance at Lily. “Miss Loring was the brave one.”
“And foolhardy, too,” Fleur added tartly. “Who knows what would have happened to her had you not been there to save her from her own recklessness?”
Subduing her own absurd pleasure at seeing him again, Lily resumed her seat in a wing chair so he couldn’t kiss her hand as he’d done her friends. “Did you have any trouble caring for Fortune, Lord Claybourne?”
He smiled at her swift change of subject but remained standing. “Your canine has been bathed and doctored. And I personally fed her half a mutton chop in bite-sized pieces. She will be given the other half this evening. I thought it wise to take her recovery slowly, since I doubt she is accustomed to such rich fare.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Lily repeated sincerely.
“So, ladies,” he said, looking at the two courtesans who had settled on the settee. “I presume you mean to judge my first performance?”