On a Wild Night (Cynster 8)

Who nodded, ringlets dancing. "Yes, I would."

Frowning, Reggie flicked a glance at Martin. "Just as long as you don't do a bunk while I'm gone."

Martin suppressed a grin; perhaps Reggie was not as spineless as he'd thought. "She'll be in this room, but we'll be strolling." He paused, eyes on Reggie's. "It's not wise to remain stationary for too long."

He saw horrified comprehension dawn, then Reggie nodded. "Right. I'll find you." With a disapproving glance at Amanda, he headed for the secondary salon.

Martin scanned the room, then lowered his arm and waved Amanda on before him. Keeping her hand on his arm-keeping her that close-would be unwise. He wanted it seen that she was under his protection in the social sense; the last thing he wanted was for her ladyship's guests to imagine that protection extended to a more personal state.

As she walked ahead of him, tacking slowly through the crowd, she glanced back at him. "Are you really friends with Lady Hennessy?"

"Yes." Helen was another who had the entree to the ton but had chosen to turn her back on it.

Amanda slowed. "What did I do wrong?"

He caught her eye, realized she meant the question to be as simple as it sounded. "If you spend much more than fifteen minutes conversing with one man, it will be inferred that you're interested in pursuing some of those wilder pastimes you mentioned with him."

Her beautiful face blanked. "Oh." Facing forward, she continued their slow amble. "That's not what I intended."

She paused to acknowledge a greeting; he performed three introductions before they moved on. Closing the distance between them, he bent his head and murmured, "What did you intend?"

She stopped; he nearly walked into her. Halted with a bare inch between her shoulders and his chest, her silk-clad bottom and his thighs. She looked back and up at him, met his eyes.

He fought an urge to slide his arms about her and draw her back against him.

"I want to live a little before I grow old." She searched his eyes. "Is that a crime?"

"If it is, half the world's guilty."

She looked forward

and started strolling again. He took a firmer grip on his impulses, then followed. She glanced back. "I understand you've had a great deal of experience in 'living.'"

"Not all of it pleasant."

She waved airily. "I'm only interested in the pleasurable aspects."

Her tone was straightforward, not facetious. She intended to seek out the pleasures of life while avoiding the pitfalls.

If only life was that simple.

They continued their peregrination, stopping to spend a few minutes in this circle or that before moving on again, she a foot before him, he prowling, relaxed but watchful, in her wake. He doubted she'd encountered many pitfalls to date; her faith in life, in its ultimate joy, remained undimmed. The light in her eyes, the exuberance of her smiles, all spoke of innocence intact.

It was not his place to shatter it.

Reaching an empty space by the side of the room, Amanda turned. "Actually, speaking of life's pleasures…"

He halted before her, broad shoulders blocking her view of the room. He met her gaze, and raised a too-knowing, distinctly suspicious, odiously superior brow.

She smiled up at him. "I was thinking I might ride the mare tomorrow morning. Early. In the park. Do you think your groom could oblige me?"

He blinked, once; she smiled more brightly.

And prayed it wasn't too soon to play that card. Elusive as he was, if she didn't set up another meeting, he might, after tonight, simply fade back into the shadows-and she would have tonight's work to do again.

His face was unreadable. Eventually, he said, "Connor mentioned Upper Brook Street."

"My parents' house is Number 12."