Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Hunt swallowed repeatedly, trying to gain control of himself. Was he ill? He had to be ill. What other possible reason could contribute to the way he was feeling in that moment?
His heart punched in his chest, his cock hardened as his gaze stayed sealed to the uniquely beautiful woman in front of him.
He’d seen beauty before—how could he not when it had been paraded in front of him on a daily basis—but this enchantress staring up at him with a slightly disapproving glare was like no other woman he’d ever seen.
She had an oval-shaped face, slightly longer than the classically beautiful women of the Ton.
The bridge of her nose was long, leading to a slightly upturned tip.
Her mouth was a perfect bow, full and ripe.
Hunt licked his lips, unable to take his eyes or hands off her. He was aware that he was still holding her, but he couldn’t remove his hand not even if the king himself demanded it.
The whispers surrounding them intensified, turning into a loud, unrecognizable buzzing in his ears.
He was accustomed to Society gossiping about his family; they had always taken a great interest in the Wakefields.
Hunt ignored it all, too captivated by the woman in front of him to care about anything, even propriety, because surely, he had held on to her longer than what was considered appropriate.
“Please release me, sir,” she commanded him, her wide eyes closing into small snake-like slits. Her voice was deep, not sweet or timid, but strong and domineering, as if she knew exactly who she was and wasn’t afraid to show it.
Releasing her, he took a step back, needing some distance between them so that he could gain clarity. He wasn’t the type of man that would lose himself over a woman, but somehow, he had momentarily lost all of his senses.
“Forgive me, I was captured by your beauty—”
She huffed out, rolling her eyes up to the painted ceiling. “Really, I wager that you are captured by beauty often.”
Hunt blinked, confused by her accusation and her tone. “Excuse me?” he asked. Surely, he had misunderstood her. “Allow me to introduce myself.”
“That won’t be necessary as we shall never meet again.” She held her head high, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for saving me from falling.” She pivoted, stepping away from Hunt.
“You won’t allow me to introduce myself?” he called after her. “Have I offended you in some way?”
Surely, he had done something to cause her to treat him so rudely.
Perhaps they had met before—no, he’d remember her.
A part of him knew he’d remember her for the rest of his life.
He hated the poetic romance of it, but it was true.
If he never met the uniquely beautiful woman again, he’d always recall the beauty of her face, the depth in her eyes, and her thick dark curls.
Sighing, she faced him, her liquid brown eyes pools of knowledge, like she could see right through to the very core of him. It made him both intrigued and uncomfortable at the same time.
“You have not offended me. I just do not have time for the games of pretty scoundrels,” she said, folding her arms under her bosom.
The move pushed her handful of breasts up, and Hunt willed himself to keep his eyes locked on her face, but dear God, did he want to stare and fantasize about all the things he would do to her.
Mad. He was mad, and she was a rude little hellion.
“You think I’m pretty? I’ve never been called pretty before. I’m not sure if I would agree with you.” He was enjoying her irritation a bit too much.
“I don’t think of you at all, sir. We’re not acquainted.” A stray curl bounced against her cheek, and his fingers twitched to reach for it and caress it.
“That could be arranged, if you allowed me to introduce myself.” He tilted his head, observing her coolly. “Yet you have rendered me unworthy for no apparent reason. It was you after all who bumped into me.”
She stepped closer to him, and he tried—dear God did he try—to ignore the scent of vanilla and lavender wafting off her, all delectable and enticing.
“You are unworthy for the simple fact that every lady in the room has eyes only for you.” She waved a silk encased hand around the room, where the eyes of nearly every woman were indeed upon them. “That tells me everything I need to know.” Her smile was tight, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.
She was enjoying this. Hunt could admit he was as well.
“I’m sure a dance could remedy your low opinion of me, after an introduction, of course.” Hunt bowed slightly, intent on not allowing her to become lost among the crush.
It was refreshing to meet a woman who knew her own mind and was not afraid to speak freely.
She laughed, low and hearty. “You haven’t heard the word no very often, have you?” she asked, a playful smile dancing at the corner of her lips.
“No, I’m not accustomed to not getting my way,” he said truthfully.
When Hunt wanted something, he went after it. The problem was that he hadn’t wanted anything in a year other than horses and caring for his mother and sister. And then she’d bumped into him, changing him in an instant.
“Well, I’m glad to be the first one to ever disappoint you, my lord,” she said, leaning slightly closer to him, before whispering, “Do enjoy the rest of the ball.”
His hellion was gone before he could stop her, weaving through the crush easily, leaving him standing in the middle of it all like a fool in disbelief.
She refused him.
He, Hunter Wakefield, was denied a dance by the most captivating woman he’d ever had the pleasure of not being introduced to.
“Why am I not surprised that a bastard would be attracted to a bastard whore,” his cousin’s whiny cold voice called out from behind him.
Hunt exhaled several times before he faced the insufferable lout that he had the privilege of being related to.
“Augustus,” he greeted in a monotone voice, trying not to allow the other man’s words to affect him. “I would suggest you refrain from insulting the lady.”
It didn’t matter what Augustus thought of Hunt, his cousin shouldn’t speak ill of the mysterious hellion.
She wasn’t Hunt’s to protect, and he’d wager his fortune that she could protect himself against his cousin.
But none of that mattered, because Hunt would guard her from the likes of Augustus—even if he never saw her again.
Mere moments would be all he’d have with her, but that was good. He had no plans of falling under the spell of any woman, especially not a mouthy hellion.
“Or what? You’ll attack me in public where everyone can see?” Augustus taunted, well aware that if Hunt made a spectacle of himself that could end his chances of maintaining the Wakefield fortune.
“I see you’ve crawled out of your hole for the evening.” Hunt shook his head, not wanting to spend air on his cousin.
“Laugh while you can, but soon the entire Wakefield fortune will be mine. Like it was always meant to be,” Augustus said with too much confidence.
A slither of warning glided down his spine. Augustus was up to something. Perhaps he was the reason behind that damned article.
Hunt eyed his cousin, taking in his usual dandy attire of bright colors, ruffles, and lace. His hair was as long as most women. Was that a hint of rouge on his cheeks?
Dear God, did the fool have no shame?
“You will never get my mother’s fortune. You’re not the heir, Augustus. No matter how much you and my father desired it.” Hunt leaned forward, wanting to make sure his cousin understood him. “You are not the heir.”
The two were of the same height; their fathers were twins after all, but Hunt, even with his brown skin, still favored the late brothers more than Augustus. It was a fact that made the other man despise Hunt even more.
“Tell me, will you bed Cliffbury’s bastard?” Augustus sneered, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. He might have had the same Wakefield green eyes as his cousin’s, but they were dull and calculating in comparison.
Having had enough of his insults, Hunt took his cousin by the lapels, pulling him forward. The crowd around them let out an audible gasp of horror, but he did not care.
“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about, but you will not insult the lady in my presence. Do I make myself clear, Augustus?” he asked, wishing that the swine would do something, anything to provoke him.
Hunt had dealt with the other man’s entitlement his entire life. From the moment Hunt was born, Augustus had been there to remind him that he wasn’t his father’s first choice.
“Unhand me, you—”
Hunt hauled him closer. “Say it! That way, I can make an example out of you in front of the precious Ton you and my father loved so much.”
“Well, isn’t this exciting!” his sister said cheerily. “You don’t want to upset Mother by causing a scene, do you?” she asked, waiting patiently.
“No, he doesn’t.” Reg joined them, standing beside Augustus and Hunt. A small crowd was forming. “Let the swine go, Hunt.” His friend draped an arm around his shoulder.
Releasing his cousin, Hunt pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his anger to subside. Augustus was not worth the risk of upsetting his mother or losing the fortune that they all needed to survive.
“When the fortune is mine, I’m going to enjoy watching you, your mother, and your sister live like you deserve—”
“You’re still here, cousin?” Helen interrupted, a bored look on her face. “Really, you should be thanking me for not letting my brother kill you in a room full of people.”
“Is everything alright?” their host, the Duke of Karrington, asked, placing himself between Hunt and Augustus. The duke’s stern look gave Hunt the impression that it was best not to come to fisticuffs with his cousin in the ballroom.
“Perfect,” Augustus said, before marching away.
“I apologize for my behavior, Karrington.” Hunt pulled his jacket down, making himself appear more presentable.
“No apologies necessary. We all have that one family member.” Karrington nodded his head in greeting before leaving Hunt, Reg, and Helen alone.
Needing a drink, Hunt headed toward the refreshment table, with Helen and Reg close behind him. He needed something stronger than iced champagne or lemonade, but he settled for the latter, taking the small cup and tossing it back.
Tart, but refreshing.
“How can you possibly drink lemonade after that disaster?” his sister asked, taking a glass of iced champagne.
Hunt shrugged, his gaze darting around the ballroom for the little hellion. He was having a perfectly delightful evening until his cousin had ruined it.
“Have I fulfilled my obligation to Mother?” he asked his sister.
Hunt rarely attended Society’s events unless pressured by his mother. Coming to the Karringtons’ ball had been a mistake. He’d known that Augustus was lurking around town, intent on ruining Hunt or finding an unwilling heiress.
Hunt hoped that the latter was the reason for the triumphant gleam in his cousin’s eyes.
“I’d say after that scene, she may not want you out in Society ever again,” Reg said, leaning against the refreshment table.
“You two are ridiculous,” Helen said, shaking her head. “And here comes Mother, and she doesn’t look happy at all.” The cheeriness in his sister’s tone informed Hunt of everything he needed to know.
Facing his mother, he watched as she slowly maneuvered around the other guests, leaning heavily on her cane. Her usual smiling face was set in stone, her hazel eyes aimed at Hunt.
“I’m ready to leave,” his mother said once she’d reached where they were standing. “It’s stifling in here, and apparently, everyone is talking about how you nearly came to fisticuffs with Augustus. Really, Hunt, we agreed to avoid a scandal,” she reminded him with a shake of her head.
Hunt weaved his arm through hers, allowing her to place all her weight on him. He could see how standing for such a long period of time was affecting her.
“In my defense, I was trying to avoid my dear cousin.” He led her slowly through the crowded ballroom.
“It is true, Mother. Augustus was provoking him, per usual,” Helen said from the other side of their mother. “What did he say to upset you?”
Hunt’s gaze darted frantically around the ballroom until it crashed into deep pools of brown.
His hellion—No, not his, just a hellion that he’d probably remember for the rest of his life.
“Nothing.”