Chapter Seven
That night, the ladies gathered in the drawing room while the men smoked cigars and drank whisky in the library. Excusing herself from the retiring room, Nora sought a breath of fresh air on the terrace.
Slipping outside, Nora deeply inhaled the night air. It was a beautiful evening with a crescent moon and the cool breeze felt wonderful on her heated cheeks. She needed more time to herself to think of her future, and the terrace was the perfect respite.
‘There you are, Miss Magarian.’
Nora’s stomach dropped as she turned to see Sir Simon step onto the terrace. Her solace was not to last long.
Swallowing her disappointment, she stood straight as he joined her at the railing. ‘Sir Simon.’
‘Good evening. I’ve been hoping to speak privately with you.’
She blinked. ‘Why?’ She hadn’t spoken to him since the fiasco of that night. Rather, she’d avoided Sir Simon like one did a bad meal.
‘You never came to me as promised.’
She shifted uneasily. She knew what he meant. She was supposed to go to his bedchamber that fateful night, was supposed to be found by her maid and mother in his bed. Instead, her future had taken a different turn.
She met Simon’s bold stare. ‘It was a confusing evening.’
‘Ah, yes. Ralston was fortunate to receive your affections rather than myself.’
Goodness. What was she to say to that? Her purpose was to escape a betrothal to a much older baron back in London, not to spend a lustful evening with Sir Simon.
Unaware of her thoughts, Sir Simon stepped forward and brushed her hand on the railing. ‘Dearest lady, it doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. We are free to continue where we left off.’
She pulled her hand back and fully faced him. She should be alarmed. She wasn’t. Men like Sir Simon needed to be put in their place and she had an abundant need to do so at that moment.
‘You misunderstand,’ she said. ‘Things have changed. I’m now betrothed to the Lord Ralston.’ Sir Simon’s cologne wafted to her, a cloying scent of cloves.
His smile deepened and he shrugged his shoulder. ‘I’ve never been one to focus on the past. Only the present.’
If his reputation was true, then she believed what he said. Sir Simon’s list of conquests was long. It was the main reason she’d chosen him in the first place. He’d never wish to marry. Neither had she. Then why did she now want to escape his presence as fast as possible?
He shifted at her side. ‘You are lovely, Miss Magarian. I’ve always had a fondness for auburn hair.’
‘Like I said, I am engaged. I must return to the drawing room. My mother will be looking for me.’
‘Before you depart, how about a kiss?’
Her right hand fisted at her side with the urge to give him a solid wallop. She shook her head instead. ‘That would be inappropriate.’
His lips twitched. ‘Then I shall take whatever affection you can spare.’ He lifted her left gloved hand and brushed his lips against the satin.
She felt nothing but the pressure of his touch. No tingling. No catch of breath. Not even a quiver. Completely unlike when Ralston sat beside her on a sandy beach, touched her hand, kissed her…
The thought confused her more.
‘You must leave or I will,’ she said, her voice firm.
‘I shall leave. But think of what I can offer.’ Simon bowed, then departed the terrace, the strong scent of his cologne went with him.
Letting out a long sigh, she rested her forearms on the railing.
Another male voice penetrated the quiet. ‘What were you doing alone with Sir Simon?’
She didn’t need to turn to know who was speaking.
So much for a needed respite. Her heart pounded once again, this time in anticipation as she turned to face her interloper.
Ralston stood there, distractingly handsome in his black and white evening attire.
His hair the colour of a starless night, shiny and curling around his neck.
His dark eyes, brimming with suspicion and irritation.
She didn’t find him the least bit intimidating.
She knew she shouldn’t goad or engage him in his current high-handed mood.
She shouldn’t. Yet, something wicked simmered in her blood at his outrageously maddening assumption.
She rested her back against the iron railing and arched a brow. The question slipped from her lips before she could bite it back. ‘Pray tell me, what do you think occurred between us, my lord?’
Ralston immediately knew he’d overreacted.
He knew, but damned if he could stop himself from charging forward after Sir Simon had departed the terrace.
He’d seen Nora slip outside earlier. He’d been aware of her all evening.
And now, finding her alone on a moonlit terrace perfect for a rendezvous, his blood pounded hot in his veins.
For someone who prized his self-control, Nora Magarian appeared to be his one exception, his weakness.
A niggling in his brain was hard to ignore, and his chest tightened in a deeply buried anxiousness.
What were Nora and Sir Simon doing alone together on a dimly lit terrace?
He’d ignored his first’s fiancée’s wandering eye.
Would Nora be the same? After all, Nora had initially intended to slip into Sir Simon’s bedchamber.
Not his own. Would history repeat itself?
Not again.
Nora let out a long sigh. ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Your accusation is as outrageous as it is insulting.’
He was drawn to her side. ‘Is that so? Then why would my fiancée be unchaperoned with a notorious rake?’
She pursed her lips. ‘You are acting high-handed.’
He stared are her, incredulous that she was blaming him. Even if he were high-handed. He had a right to be. She was his betrothed, dammit. ‘Is that so?’ he repeated.
‘Yes.’ She faced him, her green eyes bright. ‘If you must know, I sought fresh air. Sir Simon’s appearance was coincidental. I hardly think a moment on the terrace with the man was a risk to my reputation.’
If it had been any other man from the house party, her argument might have had a hair’s weight. ‘Just as you thought an afternoon alone by the ocean was safe?’
She placed a hand on her chest. His eyes were immediately drawn to the movement and the tops of her breasts from the heart-shaped bodice. What was wrong with him? He was never one to ogle a woman when they spoke.
‘I assure you that nothing happened between myself and Sir Simon,’ she said. ‘And had he attempted anything untoward, I am entirely capable of handling myself.’
He imagined her kneeing the blackguard in the groin. Still, she shouldn’t have to do that. It would be his pleasure to punch Simon square in his too perfectly formed nose.
‘I’m certain you are capable. But I will not allow infidelity.’ The statement came out in a low growl. He hadn’t meant to say it. That fact made him more frustrated.
Her clear gaze travelled over each of his features. ‘Goodness. What happened to you?’
He wasn’t about to tell her about Margaret. Or the time he’d found her lover between her plump thighs. Their moans of pleasure had taunted him for years. ‘As my wife, you will no longer engage with Sir Simon.’ Now he sounded like a curmudgeon. A very jealous one.
‘Anything else?’ she asked.
‘Do you require a list?’
‘Perhaps that would be helpful.’
Was she making fun of him? ‘You do not lack intelligence, Miss Magarian. In fact, I believe you know precisely what you are doing.’
‘Good of you to acknowledge it,’ she said. ‘My intelligence, at least.’
‘You are twisting this conversation to make it seem as if I am at fault.’
She gifted him with a smile. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘You should apologize, Miss Magarian.’ Now he sounded childish, as well.
She arched a delicate brow. ‘Me? Fine, I’m sorry you took what you saw incorrectly.’
‘That’s hardly an apology.’
Her smile deepened. ‘Your turn.’
He gave her an incredulous look. ‘You want me to apologize?’
‘Yes. You spoke quite rudely to me and, as I said, you insulted me.’
He sighed. ‘Fine, I shall not speak rudely. Meanwhile, stay away from the likes of Sir Simon.’
She blinked long lashes. ‘For how long?’
‘Forever,’ he ground out.
She tilted her head to the side, revealing her slender neck. ‘That may be difficult as there are less than a dozen guests at this house party.’
She had a good point, but she also knew what he meant. ‘The house party will end soon and we will return to Town.’
‘Yes, to marry.’ Her voice lowered, soft and sultry.
His thoughts immediately turned to the wedding night.
For a man who had never wanted to marry her, he’d envisioned her in his bed one too many times.
She’d be soft and willing after he’d seduced her.
He’d take his time initiating her in the act and drawing out her pleasure.
Knowing her, she’d also be an active participant in the bedchamber.
The images made his mouth dry and aroused him more.
‘And if I run into Sir Simon in Town?’ she asked.
He was beginning to feel like an idiot. ‘Ignore him.’
‘I see. Is there anyone else I should ignore?’
He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Not that I can think of.’
‘Good to know. Now, if you will excuse me, my lord, I believe the terrace air has become even more stifling than inside.’ She swept by him and, without looking back, returned to the house.
Ralston gripped the banister as he watched her disappear through the French doors. She was outrageous and unexpected. Frustrated longing commingled with ridiculous jealousy had made him act like a cad. Would it always be this way with her? Christ, he didn’t trust himself in her presence.
Another question sprang to mind, one even more devastatingly intriguing.
What else would she make him do?