Valentine's Vow (Avenging Lords 3)

Valentine scoffed. Was she trying to unnerve him with her direct approach? Oh, she was playing with a master.

“Trust me, Miss Kendall,” he drawled. “Were I intent on seduction, you would be in no doubt.”

Miss Kendall raised a coy brow. “That is fortunate, as it saves me having to rebuke your advances.”

The need to prove her wrong took hold. In three moves, Valentine could have her panting in his arms. One firm, masculine hand gripping her hip would unsettle her steely composure. But they were in a ballroom full of vultures looking for a fleshy morsel of gossip, and some were already circling.

Valentine stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture. “Your reputation is your own affair.” All attempts of chivalry had fallen on deaf ears. If titles were given for determination, this lady would be a duchess. “Keep to the path,” he advised. Wolves prowled the perimeter. “Stray at your peril.”

She moved to place a gloved hand on his arm but drew it back. “I do not mean to appear ungrateful. Your concerns are welcome and duly noted. But I cannot let the matter rest. I am a victim of the worst kind of betrayal and cannot leave here without answers.”

Water welled in the corners of her eyes. The sight tugged at an unfamiliar place deep in his gut. The urge to force his fist down Jonathan Kendall’s throat surfaced.

“Would you care for a handkerchief?”

Miss Kendall shook her head and inhaled deeply to gather her composure. “I refuse to shed another tear over that fool.”

“Your brother has lost sight of what is important,” he agreed.

“Only the worst kind of man steals from his family.”

The comment did more than pique Valentine’s interest.

Did Jonathan Kendall have prior knowledge of the unusual ruby his father had sold? Had he stolen into his neighbour’s house in the dead of night and swopped the precious stone for a paste replica? If one could steal from one’s family, then why not from a stranger?

“What must you think of me?” she suddenly said, giving him another rare glimpse of her vulnerability. “I make my brother sound like a common criminal.”

“All families have their struggles,” he managed to say as she backed away. He knew first-hand what it was like to love a devil. “All families have their secrets.”

“Yes, I believe they do.” She cocked her head to one side. “May I say that your mother’s appraisal of your character is wholly accurate? You are every bit a gentleman. Thank you again for the dance. Good evening, my lord.” With that, she moved past him and headed for the terrace doors.

If only she knew of the raging desire lingering beneath his cool facade. Had he not already warned her? He was a gentleman in every regard but one. Valentine sighed inwardly. While he had partaken in liaisons with women, he was far from a licentious rake. And yet with Miss Kendall, he wanted to be both the best and the worst version of himself. He wanted to comfort and protect, ravage her mind, pump so hard into her willing body he no longer cared about being a dutiful son.

A hard lump formed in Valentine’s throat as he watched Aveline Kendall slip out into the night. There was but one option open to a chivalrous gentleman.

Destiny forced him to follow.

Chapter Six

Thank heavens there were only three steps leading down from Lord Rockford’s terrace to the manicured lawn. Ava’s pulse raced so fast she feared her trembling legs might buckle under the strain. The nervous energy thrumming through her veins had nothing to do with the thought of confronting Jonathan, or of meeting the dashing widow who possessed the innate ability to capture every man’s interest.

No. Her attraction to Lord Valentine was the cause.

The man had a magnetic charm, could seduce a woman with a single glance. The powerful pull drew her dangerously close no matter how hard she tried to keep her distance. She should have refused his offer to dance, but her hand had slipped into his large palm long before logic intervened.

Oh, but the waltz had been spectacular.

He danced with panther-like grace—sleek, confident, every solid muscle working in unison. There were moments where she glimpsed a voracious hunger in his eyes, moments when the heat radiating from those blue gems ignited a fire deep in her chest. Their fluid movements on the floor conveyed a natural ease that one hardly ever experienced with a stranger.

And yet she no longer regarded Lucius Valentine as a stranger. Despite knowing him for less than a day, she regarded him as a friend. He seemed to be of a similar mindset. Why else would he show concern for her reputation? Why else would he seek her out in a ballroom full of desirable ladies?

A playful squeal to Ava’s left drew her attention beyond the path to the tall topiary shrouded in darkness. There was merriment to be had amid the shrubbery if one was so inclined. Lord Valentine’s warning to stay on the path was not unfounded. And while he no doubt thought her reckless—the exact opposite of what he desired in a woman—and far too stubborn for her own good, she would heed his advice.

Besides, from what she had witnessed, the rakish gentlemen congregated in the card room and were not apt to go hunting for virgins to ruin.

Ava scanned the garden looking for Jonathan. Rows of lanterns and braziers illuminated the walkways, and she spotted him strolling arm in arm with the fiery-haired temptress. It had to be the widow. Since Ava’s arrival, Jonathan had followed the woman around like a pet dog in desperate need of stroking.

The couple stopped near an ornamental stone temple with Corinthian pillars and a dome roof. From this distance, it was impossible to identify the statue taking pride of place in the centre, but Jonathan had led the widow behind the sculpture and Ava knew it was time to act.