He turned back to her. ‘How about what a pompous, blind, ungrateful ass I am?’ he began, knowing that Lisette would not have seen the look that passed between the two men.
‘Blind and ungrateful how...?’
Christian gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I notice you do not question the “pompous” or the “ass”?’
‘The first is no doubt because you are a duke. The second...?’ She gave one of those achingly familiar Gallic shrugs. ‘Perhaps for the same reason?’
Christian choked back another shout of laughter. Indeed he was fast reaching a point where he really would shock all in the room, and to hell with them, their heirs and his own. ‘Please come outside with me, Lisette,’ he pressed urgently.
‘If you are merely going to upbraid me for my outspokenness to you just now, or some other social misdemeanour I have made, then I would really rather not—’
‘You may upbraid me, if you wish,’ he asserted fervently. ‘For what you have perceived as my tardiness, my neglect and what I now believe to have been my utter stupidity in not doing this sooner!’
Lisette gave a gasp as ‘this’ became Christian sweeping her up into his arms before carrying her outside.
From the ballroom at Maystone House.
For all and everyone in London society to see.
Chapter Sixteen
‘How can you have been so...so stupide?’ Lisette glared up at Christian in the moonlight bathing the terrace on which they both now stood, the pummelling of her fists upon his chest finally having secured her release. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glittering with temper. ‘Imbécile!’
Christian needed no translation of the names Lisette had just called him.
Nor did he say a word to stop her, but simply wallowed in the pleasure of knowing his Lisette was here, after all.
This was the Lisette he remembered.
And it was because of her return that he could not regret his actions of a few minutes ago. Damn it, he would have done something very like it long before now, if he had not felt as if Lisette had become a stranger to him.
The musicians had drawn to a discordant halt as they lost their place in the music, to openly stare, along with the rest of the people assembled in Maystone’s ballroom, as Christian had swept Lisette up in his arms and carried her out onto the moonlit terrace.
Christian knew the chatter he could now hear above the musicians resuming their playing—no doubt having been encouraged to do so by their host—would all be about the two of them.
Scandalous.
Shocking.
Damning.
Very damning for a duke to behave in such a reckless fashion in public.
And Christian did not regret it for a single moment.
How could he, when Lisette was currently berating him, that rapid-fire French he loved to hear spewing forth from those delectable lips.
Instead of being insulted, as she no doubt intended he should be, it was like sweet music to his ears after all these weeks of silence between them.
He leaned back against the balustrade as Lisette paced up and down in front of him, knowing that even she would eventually run out of names to call him.
In the meantime, he could enjoy the sight of her. She really was magnificent when she was in full spate. Her hair seemed a brighter red, eyes sparkling like sapphires, cheeks aflame with colour, her lips a deeper rose, that tiny chin lifted high, her breasts— Ah, those magnificent breasts. They were quickly rising and falling above the low neckline of her gown.
Almost indecently so, Christian realised
with a frown. Maystone really should not have let Lisette wear a gown with such a scandalously low neckline as this in public. It was the sort of gown that only a lover should see, or a—
‘You are not even listening to me. Imbécile!’