Desire (Notorious 3)

Finally he gave a soft sigh. “Whatever our private disputes, I would prefer to present a more amiable image in public. It will help quiet the scandal for us to be seen together and pretend to enjoy each other’s company.”

“Yes… I suppose that would help.”

He rose then and came around to her side of the table. Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. “Until this evening, then.”

Brynn shivered, feeling the tingle of his hot mouth all the way down her arm to her loins.

She stared after Lucian long after he was gone. Finally she felt her breath escape in a sigh. She had her own regrets about their relationship; she yearned for an end to hostilities as Lucian claimed he did. Yet she didn’t dare lower her defenses.

It worried her, this contrite, gentle side of him. If he were to begin treating her with tenderness and consideration, he would be impossible to resist.

Brynn shook her head, desperately fighting the emotions he unleashed in her. How had her feelings for Lucian become so complicated? Their relationship would be so much safer if she could simply hate him. But she feared that was well beyond her power. It wasn’t hate Lucian woke in her, but hungry longing.

As they entered their box at the Drury Lane Theatre, Lord and Lady Wycliff were the focus of all eyes. A sense of excitement claimed Brynn as Lucian took his seat beside her. It was a treat for her to attend a performance of skilled actors. The country troupes that toured southern Cornwall were the dregs of their profession, so watching actual masters was sure to be a delight.

But it was Lucian himself who caused the involuntary lightness of her spirits. He had dined at home with her, playing the role of solicitous husband-a performance, she knew. Yet he acted as if he were truly enjoying her company instead of fighting his attraction to her. Clearly he was making an effort to begin anew.

The change in him was profoundly appealing- and unquestionably dangerous. In return, Brynn did her best to maintain a cool demeanor and subdue her own appeal. She wore her fiery hair sedately tamed, while her ivory slip with its overskirt of silver tissue was modestly cut for an evening gown. Yet she could tell by the sudden darkening of Lucian’s blue eyes that he admired the effect.

He continued his exhibition of amiability when they reached the theater. The moment Lucian was settled beside her, he took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips to kiss, gazing deeply into her eyes, just as if he were in love. His amorous gesture was for the benefit of the audience, Brynn presumed, but the sheer intimacy of it made her soften inside…

Abruptly she scolded herself for her susceptibility; Lucian well knew the power of his sensuality, and she would be wise to keep up her guard.

&nbs

p; They were barely seated when visitors started arriving at their box, wanting to be introduced to his lordship’s new lady. Lucian showed all the heart-melting charm and rakish wit that had so fascinated her when they’d first met, as well as a possessiveness that was as curiously gratifying as it was disturbing. He remained so close she could feel his body heat, his arm lightly draping her shoulder, as if staking his claim on her. And when they were left alone once more for the start of the play, he kept hold of her hand.

Despite her resolve to keep him at a distance, to protect him with her indifference, Brynn found herself loath to pull away; his touch felt so right. All through the first act, her nerves were alive and acutely tuned to him.

Almost as distracting were the whispered conversations in the neighboring boxes and from the pit below. Few in the audience were actually watching the stage but had turned their opera glasses on herself, suggesting their fascination with the woman who had claimed the elusive Lord Wycliff’s hand in marriage.

Even with all the disturbances, however, Brynn found the performance riveting. When the first intermission came, she gave a sigh of delight.

“Your eyes are fairly sparkling,” Lucian murmured in her ear. “I take it you approve of the performance.”

“It’s marvelous,” Brynn said with heartfelt agreement. “Although I suppose I sound rather provincial to admit it.”

A breathtaking, whimsical smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps. A pretense of ennui is certainly considered fashionable. But I think your candor refreshing.”

“Thank you for bringing me here, Lucian,” she said sincerely.

He bowed gallantly. “Your enjoyment is my pleasure.”

“You don’t find the play enjoyable?”

“Somewhat. But I’ve seen this performance a half dozen times. It isn’t difficult to become jaded on the entertainments London has to offer.”

“I can’t imagine becoming so jaded that Shakespeare begins to pall. If that is the consequence of your wicked life, then I will gladly pass.”

His lashes veiled his sapphire eyes, and Brynn could have bitten off her tongue. She hadn’t meant to spoil the moment by reminding him of their discord.

She was relieved when a new visitor appeared in their box. Brynn felt nervous about meeting so illustrious a personage as the Foreign Secretary, whom the papers frequently vilified. But Lord Castlereagh apparently was a close friend of Lucian’s. Although his lordship initially displayed a stiff reserve toward her, he conversed easily with Lucian and soon had Brynn admiring his sharp intelligence.

The admiration became mutual when she quizzed him about the Duke of Wellington’s progress on the battlefields of Spain, which she had been reading a great deal about. Castlereagh had long been a champion of Wellington and shed any trace of aloofness when he spoke proudly about his confederate’s stunning victory at Vitoria.

“You’ve done well choosing your bride, Wycliff,” Castlereagh said as he was preparing to leave the box. “It is surprising that you found her in the wilds of Cornwall. I’ll wager you’re glad you decided to mix pleasure with business.”

“Very glad,” Lucian said, giving Brynn a glance so warm, she felt herself blush.