Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Without thinking of what his gesture looked like, Hartley picked up Isabella’s hand and led her onto the dance floor. She did not argue—a welcome reprieve from her usually prickly self—before he pulled her into his arms for a waltz.
He was playing with fire and in more than one way.
The bet he’d agreed to with the Duke of Rolle was feeling more and more uncomfortable on his conscience the longer the bet progressed.
That Isabella was his brother’s sister-in-law, a woman Benedict would not wish him to offend, also made guilt prickle along his spine.
But Lady Isabella was also a woman who had long intrigued him, and he wanted to see if she was truly as cold and dismissive as people believed her to be. Or was she merely jaded with society, especially considering this was her third Season.
What he was doing was wrong, and he ought not be faux-courting her to win her first kiss. But in turn, he was loath to lose any wager, no matter what that wager entailed.
He pulled Isabella into his arms, closer than he should and drank deep the scent that drifted from her, roses and all sweetness that he basked in.
Should he be truly looking for a wife, a woman such as Isabella, a fiery, independent, strong-willed and intelligent woman was just the type he could tolerate.
If he were looking for a wife.
The bet is harsh. You should stop this nonsense now before it’s taken too far…
Her hand drifted to his nape and the feel of her fingers playing with his hair stole the breath from his lungs. He swallowed, fought to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest at the too-familiar touch.
“I suppose this means that we’re to dance together, my lord. However, I do not quite remember you asking me.”
He couldn’t quite remember his name right at this moment, nevertheless a quick-witted response to her statement.
Still, he rallied and grinned down at her as if nothing were untoward.
As if his body didn’t tremble at the feel of her fingers on his neck.
As if his body were not aflame with need after her touch.
“Do you not?” He feigned ignorance. “I’m certain that I asked. Perhaps my handsomeness has rendered you deaf to my words and you’re merely content to bask in my handsome presence.”
She grinned up at him, and he had the overwhelming urge to hold her closer, to keep her.
For himself…
“Perhaps it has.”
He raised his brows, having not expected her to be flirtatious back to him, or at least to keep being so. Surely at any moment she would switch her tactics and be curt, cut him dead with one of her responses he couldn’t help but admire.
“Do you mean to tell me that you’re in agreement? Well,” he chuckled, pulling her close during a turn of the dance, “I’m delighted to hear so.”
“And you’ve been seeking me out so much lately, may I presume that we’ve laid down our swords and become friends?”
Friends? He could be friends with Lady Isabella, and maybe upon first meeting her he had thought they would be. But after the ruinous scandal he was part of and hightailing it abroad to try to save his family name, he’d thought she would long be married when he returned.
Married and settled and friendship untenable. To find her not so, to find her as prickly as she had always been toward him, possibly his fault due to his belief everyone he met would be charmed by him, had ensured he’d fallen back into riling her up as much as he ever had.
But after his bet with Rolle, and spending more time with Lady Isabella, he knew without a doubt he could be friends with this woman if she allowed them.
Not that the friendship would last long. Not if she ever found out about the wager he was a part of that involved her.
His gaze dipped to her lips and his mind jumped to thoughts of kissing her plump, ripe mouth. Surely she had never kissed a man. Were her lips as sweet and untouched like the rest of her?
“Were we not always friends, Bells? Friends who are candid with one another, but friends none the less.” He slipped his hand farther about her back and edged her close.
His body hardened at the feel of her in his arms, the press of her breasts against his chest. For a moment his concentration and train of thought vanished and his steps faltered.
She scoffed. “We’ve never been friends, as you well know.
But I’d like to change that. I believe we’re very similar of nature, my lord.
You’re not as stupid as I once thought you and so I think we can get along amicably well.
In fact, being about you may sway other gentlemen to see me differently this year. I may end up betrothed after all.”
Hartley cleared his throat. The mention of her marrying another sent a chill down his spine.
What if she married someone unworthy? Someone cruel?
“The Season is young and if you promise yourself to anyone it’ll make our newly formed armistice so much harder to continue.
Unless you’re open to seeing me in secret after you wed… ”
His words were outrageous, but then, when wasn’t he so? From the amused grin Lady Isabella offered up at him, he knew she was well aware of that fact.
“You would cuckhold your friend.”
The mention of sex, of having her after she’d agreed to be another’s sent heat to course though his blood.
Hell yes he would cuckhold anyone if it meant he could have her in his bed without having to marry.
To gain a first kiss through a bet was one thing, but marriage was not what he wished for. Not quite yet…
She would be all fire and ice too, he had little doubt. A minx in bed he could never get enough of. He could have everything he wanted without having to give up his life as he now lived it. A boon for any eligible, rich bachelor.
“To have you in my bed. Yes I would.”
A light blush bussed her cheeks, but she did not bolt. In fact, her fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck once more, sending shivers down his spine and heat to settle between his legs. “Is it a big bed?” she asked.
He gaped and then remembered to shut his mouth. “Very big.”
The music came to an end, and he swept her to a stop. “That’s good to know. I do not think I’d like a small one. Very unsatisfying.”
He could not speak to form a reply and without another word, she dipped into a curtsy and walked away, leaving him looking after her from the dance floor. Another couple bumped into him, and he remembered to move as the other dancers took to the floor for a minuet.
His body was aflame. His mind boggled. And maybe, just maybe, he may have found his match in more ways than he was willing to admit to himself…