Part 8 (1/2)
Lord Radington chuckled. ”If one wished to, I suppose.”
There was a look in Adrian's eye as if he wished to do that very thing to the younger man. Surely he didn't think ...
”Although I have always been fond of a finely honed rapier. Excellent for fencing.” Adrian shrugged. ”Or dueling.”
”Dueling is no longer legal although it was probably common in your day,” Lord Radington said with a casual smile.
”Yes, well, in my day, dueling was an acceptable, indeed, an expected means of defending one's honor or one's property.” His eyes narrowed so slightly only Evelyn would have noticed. ”Or one's wife.”
Good Lord! At once Evelyn realized her husband thought she'd come to the library to meet Lord Radington. The dear man was jealous. How utterly absurd. But rather delightful nonetheless.
”Then I am no doubt fortunate it is outlawed,” Lord Radington said blithely.
”Pity,” Adrian said under his breath. ”Do you fence?”
”On occasion.” An uneasy note sounded in Lord Radington's voice, and he slanted Evelyn a quick glance as if asking for her intervention. She cast him a pleasant smile.
”Perhaps we can meet for a match someday.” Adrian's polite smile very nearly masked the intent gleam in his eye.
In spite of her best intentions, Evelyn laughed. Both men turned indignant looks on her.
”What,” Adrian said in a cool voice, ”might I ask is so amusing?”
”Not a thing, darling.” She beamed at her husband. ”A random thought crossed my mind, nothing of importance.” She took her husband's arm. ”We have been gone far too long and I should like another dance before we leave for the evening.”
He stared down at her as if he were trying to read her thoughts. ”As you wish.”
”Good evening, Lord Radington.” She cast the man a grateful smile.
He, too, looked at her as if trying to read her mind. He nodded. ”Lady Waterston.”
”In my day,” Adrian said under his breath as they strolled back toward the ballroom. ”The man can't be more than five years younger than I.”
”The nerve of the man.” Evelyn bit back a laugh. She'd never imagined Adrian, who was not the least bit vain, had a touch of vanity when it came to his age. He was a mere thirty-eight and was as fine a figure of a man as she'd ever met. Still, she'd never imagined him to be a jealous sort either. Odd the things one learned when one had thought there was nothing left to learn. She chatted brightly about anything amusing that came into her head, and by the time they reached the ballroom, Adrian's mood had lightened.
She knew she should have been upset that he was even a little jealous. And any other time she would have been. But proving she was not unfaithful, should it ever come to that, would be far easier than explaining what she was involved in. That would inevitably lead to what she had done in the past. She certainly wasn't going to do anything to encourage Adrian in thinking she was seeing another man, but for now, she wasn't going to entirely correct his erroneous a.s.sumption.
His mistake might well be her salvation.
Celeste slipped out of bed and danced out of the way of the hand reaching to pull her back.
”Don't go.” Max groaned. ”Come back.”
”As much as I would like nothing better, I'm afraid I must be going.”
”You never stay the night.” He struggled to sit up. ”It's insulting.”
”Don't be absurd.” She looked around for her clothes, discarded in their usual haste to touch and taste and partake of the pleasures they found in each other. ”How on earth is it insulting?”
”You come to my home. You take liberties with my person-”
”Liberties?” She laughed.
”You have your way with me-”
She raised a brow. ”Are you complaining?”
He ignored her. ”And then you leave me.” He heaved a sigh worthy of the most poorly trained thespian. ”I feel like a ... a trollop.”
”A trollop?”
”A common trollop.” He plucked at the bedcovers. ”It's not at all pleasant and I don't like it one bit.”
”My apologies,” she said absently. Her clothes lay scattered over the floor in a haphazard trail from the door to the bed, her corset hung tipsily from the bedpost, and good Lord-was that her chemise dangling from the sconce? ”Are you familiar with karma?”
”Moral causation? The idea that one gets what one deserves?”
She nodded.
His brows drew together. ”Prevalent in Eastern religions, I believe. Buddhism, I think.”
”Very good, Max,” she said wryly. ”I do so love a man who is well read.”
”I am nothing if not well read.” He grinned and patted the bed beside him. ”I'd be happy to demonstrate exactly what else I do well.”
”You are too generous.”
His wicked grin widened. ”You have no idea how generous I can be.”
”Oh, I have some idea.” She studied him for a moment. Lord, he was a handsome beast. All that blond hair, tousled now, he had the look of a small boy. If one ignored the lascivious gleam in his bright blue eyes and the evidence of his growing excitement beneath the sheet. The man was insatiable and b.l.o.o.d.y well irresistible. ”Don't you find it ironic that a man like you, who has left the beds of who knows how many women, now finds himself in precisely the same position?”
”First karma, now irony.” He narrowed his eyes in feigned suspicion. ”Are you saying I'm getting precisely what I deserve?”
She smiled and pulled on her chemise.
”Well, I don't like it.”
”Now you're pouting and it's not at all attractive.” In truth, though, it was rather endearing. Sir Maxwell Osgood was not the type of man to pout.
”Do help me with this.” She looked at him over her shoulder, holding the sides of her corset together behind her back.
”I would be delighted.” He stood and crossed the room. Most men tended to look better with clothes on. Max was not one of them. She never tired of looking at him naked. He took the laces and tugged them tight. ”There's something about this I like.”
”You were no doubt a ladies' maid in a previous life.”
He bent to kiss the back of her neck and she s.h.i.+vered. His lips murmured against her skin. ”I doubt that. Although it would have its benefits ...”