Led Astray by a Rake (The Husband Hunters Club 1)

“Go home, Olivia. You will be hurt and ruined if you stay here, and I won’t be able to protect you.”

“I don’t want you to protect me,” she retorted crossly. “I didn’t come here to be a burden on you. I want to enjoy myself. Now, are you going to let me go?”

He looked at her a moment more, trying to read past her defiance, and then he shrugged and held the red velvet curtain aside. Outside their secluded alcove the ball was more boisterous than ever. A couple stood by the wall, just beyond the alcove, their mouths seeking, their bodies pressed tightly together. The woman’s skirts were pulled up and the man’s hand was busy beneath her silks.

Nic glanced at Olivia and thought she turned a little pale at such blatant lust, but when she noticed him watching, she made a point of standing and viewing the scene with open curiosity.

“This uninhibited behavior is very refreshing,” she said. “Have you ever—”

“Not in public. Not here,” he spoke between his teeth.

“So you prefer closed doors and privacy, rather like any other gentleman?” She sounded disappointed, blast

her.

“I went to an orgy in Rome once,” he said, “but I don’t remember much after the first hour.”

Her blue eyes flickered to his and away again. “What a waste, Nic, if you can’t remember it. I’m sure when I go to an orgy I will want to experience every second of it over and over again.”

“You’re not going to any orgies,” he almost shouted.

Olivia glanced at him again, and this time she smiled. He narrowed his eyes at her as she reached out and twisted a dark strand of his hair around her finger, smoothing it back from his neck and his collar. Her touch made him ache, and he wondered how he managed not to haul her into his arms and kiss the life out of her. Perhaps because he knew that he’d find it hard to stop.

“I think I might go and meet some of these interesting people now, Nic.”

“Please yourself,” he growled.

She hesitated, as if she expected him to argue, but Nic wasn’t going to argue with her any more. If and when she wanted help to get home, she could come to him and ask nicely. In the meantime he wasn’t going to waste any more time on her. He was there to enjoy himself, and, goddamn it, that was what he was going to do.

Chapter 10

Despite what she’d said to him, Olivia admitted it would have been nice if he’d accepted her offer to be the one to introduce her to the art of pleasure. She supposed it was still difficult for him to see past his vision of her as his respectable young neighbor, but she was determined that by the end of this evening he would be looking at her through newly opened eyes.

With that in mind, she set out to be as outrageous as she possibly could. Men flocked to her, so there was no need to seek them out, and she flirted and laughed and tossed her head, trying not to show how secretly horrified she was by some of their remarks. At least, those that she could understand.

The other women, at first wary and occasionally hostile, seemed to become more friendly as the night wore on. One even insisted on fetching her a drink to quench her thirst, and the sweet, syrupy liquid was rather like lemonade. Olivia had no qualms in accepting a second glass. Afterward, things became a little blurry around the edges, and it crossed her mind that the kindness might have been a trick, in order to remove a rival. But by then it was too late.

“I am tipsy, quite, quite tipsy!” she cried.

Olivia tilted back her head and watched the chandelier spinning around, and it wasn’t until she nearly fell that she realized it was actually she who was spinning. Her skirts belled out, her loosened hair whipped about her face, and she laughed aloud with the sheer joy of being alive.

As night slipped into morning, the noise grew louder and the company slipped further out of control. Some of the couples disappeared into dark corners, or the rooms upstairs, or else rode off in their carriages. Several of the dancers were putting on an impromptu show amid wild shrieks of laughter and applause. Nic had found a woman—or she had found him—and now she was clinging to his side like a burr. He thought it was probably so that she didn’t fall over, rather than because she fancied him—she had drunk a great deal of champagne.

Nic was surprisingly sober. He smiled politely at the high jinks around him but he wasn’t enjoying himself. He’d been keeping an eye on Olivia as she flitted from one besotted gentleman to the next, cleverly holding them at arm’s length, then moving on before it became awkward. Once, he lost sight of her, and he found himself searching the room in a state of pure funk until he found her again.

If she noticed his nursemaidish attitude she didn’t show it. Never once did she turn to see if he was there, or try to catch his eye. He alternated between wanting to take her into a corner and show her exactly how frustrated he felt, and wanting to bundle her up, toss her over his shoulder, and take her home.

“Mmm.” The dark-haired beauty at his side licked her lips. “Do you want me to kiss you? I am famous for my kissing.” Her gaze slid down over his trousers and she licked her lips again, so that he couldn’t mistake her meaning.

“I’m sure you are.”

Her eyes were brown, with a slight squint that was not unattractive, and he knew at any other time she would make him a perfect companion for an hour or two’s entertainment. She would know her place and never disturb his peace of mind.

Unlike Olivia Monteith.

Nic glanced about, realizing he’d lost sight of her again. To his horror, he saw that she was climbing up onto the dais, with the dancers, and preparing to join them. Her admirers—she seemed to have gathered a dozen or so by now—were clapping their hands and stamping their feet and calling for her to dance. She looked down at them with a fond and slightly lopsided smile. The black dress was slipping again, but she probably didn’t notice, and probably didn’t realize she was showing far more of herself than was proper.

Proper. He snorted. It was not a word Nic had used for a long time. And yet here he was, like some sort of puritan knight, guarding his property from the lechery of men who were behaving just as he himself had behaved in years past.