On a Wicked Dawn (Cynster 9)

They reached the ballroom doors; he stood back to let her precede him. She stepped past, then paused, looked back. Her eyes met his, briefly searched, then steadied.

He felt sure she was about to speak, but instead, she smiled. Not just with her lips, but with her eyes.

Then she turned and walked into the ballroom.

He stared, then silently swore and followed her. She'd smiled at him like that once before; as before, the hair at his nape had lifted.

He'd intended it to be a simple kiss. What it had turned into… memories of that had kept him awake half the night.

The clocks chimed twelve noon as Luc crossed his front hall. There were documents and reports awaiting him in his study; he'd make a start on them before lunch and get his mind off its obsession.

He was reaching for the study doorknob when he heard her laugh. He knew the notes well, could at any time make them ring in his mind. For one instant, he thought that was what he'd heard — his imagination teasing him. Then he heard the voice that went with the laugh, not precise words, but the tone, the cadence.

Glancing along the hall, he listened. Amelia, his mother, and his sisters. Fiona, too. He strained his ears but heard no one else. Not an at-home, then, but an informal morning visit by a friend of the family.

The documents on his desk called to him. Some orders he needed to deal with by that evening; others were urgent bills he could at last pay. Responsibility urged him to the study; a deeper, more primitive instinct pointed in a different direction.

Last night she'd gone along with his edict, acquiesced readily and let him steer their path — up until that kiss. Their supposedly simple first kiss. Then she'd overset his plans. It hadn't been he who'd turned the exchange into a flagrantly sensual prelude — and if it hadn't been he, it had to have been she.

That fact disturbed him not a little. If she could challenge his rule in that sphere, what else might she attempt?

Which led to the exceedingly pertinent question of what she was doing in his drawing room that morning.

Amelia glanced up as the drawing room door opened. She smiled delightedly, made no attempt to hide her approbation as Luc entered, saw them, then shut the door and strolled up the long room to where they sat before the windows.

Her companions looked and smiled, too, his mother on the chaise beside her, Emily, Anne, and Fiona on two chairs and an ottoman ranged before them. Her intended presented the sort of picture any lady would smile at. His blue coat of Bath superfine fitted him superbly, displaying his shoulders to advantage, drawing attention to his narrow hips. His long, muscled thighs were encased in buckskin breeches which disappeared into Hessians shined to a mirror gloss. The contrast between his pale skin and the absolute blackness of his hair and brows was dramatic even in daylight.

He nodded to the three girls; skirting them, reaching her side, he inclined his head to his mother as he held out one long-fingered hand.

Her heart thumped as she laid her fingers across his, felt his close strongly. He bowed. "Amelia."

Within their homes, they

could use their given names; while his tone would not have alerted the others, not even his mother, she caught the warning note — saw it echoed in his eyes as he straightened and released her.

She let her smile brighten. "Good morning. Have you been riding?"

He hesitated, then nodded, stepping back to lean against the nearby mantelpiece. "Would you like some tea?" his mother asked. Luc glanced at the tray on the table. "No, thank you — nothing."

Minerva gracefully relaxed against the chaise. "We've just been discussing the latest invitations. Despite the Season winding down, there seem quite a few interesting events planned for the last weeks." Luc raised a disinterested brow. "Indeed?" Amelia looked up at him. "Even though there are only three or so weeks to go, I doubt we'll be short of diversions." He looked down at her, into unbelievably innocent blue eyes.

"It's all so exciting!" Fiona, bright as a button, bobbed in her chair, distracting him. Her brown curls were caught up in the same style Anne favored — she looked more than just familiar… then he realized she'd borrowed one of Anne's spencers.

"At least the balls aren't quite so crowded anymore," Anne put in.

Fiona swung to face her. "Not as crowded?"

"Definitely not," Emily confirmed. "They were much worse — truly crushes in every sense — at the height of the Season."

"So was your come-out a crush?" Fiona asked.

Minerva smiled. "Indeed — it was a very well attended affair."

She glanced up at him; Luc met her gaze and shared her proud smile. He still inwardly shuddered at the disruption and effort his sisters' come-out had entailed, but at least he could now pay for it.

"It was such a pity you missed it." Anne caught Fiona's hand. "So odious of your aunt to insist you go to visit your cousins instead."

"Now, now, girls," Minerva intervened. "Fiona is staying with her aunt, and Mrs. Worley has been very kind in sparing her to us so often?