Part 4 (1/2)

”I did not know.” Each word was crisply enunciated. ”What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

”You have been much on my mind, my dear, since abandoning me last night,” he said. ”So I asked a few discreetly placed questions and was a little disturbed by what I discovered.”

Anger sketched across her face. ”As I am a little disturbed to have been run to ground as if I were some sort of prey,” she returned. ”I apologize, sir, as I hope you do, for what happened last night. However, when a lady abruptly leaves a gentleman under such circ.u.mstances, there are but a few conclusions one can draw.”

”Are there indeed?” he murmured. ”I could think of only one.”

”And yet you followed me here?” she challenged, entirely missing his point. ”Followed me into the privacy of my home? That, sir, is unacceptable.”

Nash watched her warily for a moment. Even amidst his confusion, he could not help but be aware of her proximity and of her almost palpable allure. She was an unconventional beauty to be sure, with her dark chestnut hair, thin nose, and eyes too widely set-eyes which were focused on him unblinkingly, demanding an answer to her challenge.

”You must pardon me, Miss Neville,” he finally said. ”I have misjudged the situation.”

”It would seem so,” she returned. ”What on earth possessed you to call upon my brother?”

”I was entering the lion's den, I thought,” he answered. ”I am not the sort of man who waits for trouble to find me, and I wished to see which way the wind blew.”

”Oh, how ridiculous!” she answered. ”What did you say?”

”Very little that made sense,” Nash confessed.

”I wish you to stay away from him,” she commanded. ”Rothewell eats dandies like you for breakfast, Lord Nash. Trust me, you do not want to irritate him.”

Nash drew in his breath sharply. ”I beg your pardon. Did you say dandy-?”

Miss Neville colored. ”Well, a fas.h.i.+on plate, then. Or a tulip. Or an exquisite, perhaps?” She stopped and pursed her lips. ”I beg your pardon. I meant no insult, and I obviously don't know the proper words. But whatever you are, just stop antagonizing my brother.”

Nash stepped closer, and grasped her arm. ”And talking about what we were doing on Sharpe's terrace might antagonize him?”

”Good G.o.d!” Her eyes sparked with blue fire. ”Surely you did not?”

He set his head to one side and studied her, still gripping her arm quite firmly. ”No, I did not,” he answered musingly. ”Tell me, Miss Neville, what do you think his reaction would have been?”

She jerked her arm away, and stepped back. ”I cannot say,” she confessed. ”Nothing, perhaps. Or perhaps he would have shot you dead where you stood. That is the very trouble with Rothewell, don't you see? One never knows. Kindly go away, Lord Nash. And stay away. I think you will be saving all of us from a vast amount of grief.”

He stepped closer, strangely unwilling to let her escape. ”Tell me, Miss Neville, why did you kiss me last night?” he asked quietly. ”Indeed, what in G.o.d's name were you doing alone on that terrace in the first place?”

”England is a free country,” she responded. ”I went out for air.”

”Miss Neville, you are an unmarried woman,” he protested. ”Society generally expects-”

”Kindly save your breath,” she interjected. ”I neither need nor want another lecture about what English society expects. I am unwed, sir, not witless. If I wish a breath of fresh air, I shall have it, and your beau monde will simply have to wrestle with their ridiculous notion of propriety.”

Against his will, Nash's mouth began to tug into a grin. ”Well, it would appear our discussion here is finished,” he said, taking up his cape and gloves. ”You are, if I may say so, Miss Neville, a most fascinating woman. I wish to G.o.d you were a willing widow-or even some poor devil's willing wife-but you aren't, are you? And now I'm to suffer for it.”

”Oh, for pity's sake, Lord Nash.” She looked at him uncertainly. ”No one need suffer.”

”Alas, there is but one way to avoid that,” he murmured. ”And it is quite out of the question. Thank you, my dear, for a remarkable evening-two of them, actually.”

He heard a sound of relief escape her lips as she turned toward the door. But at the last instant, she caught him by the arm. ”Wait, Lord Nash.” Her eyes were still wary. ”I should like to know-what was your conclusion?”

”I beg your pardon?”

”On the terrace,” she reminded him. ”You said you could think of but one conclusion to draw. Obviously, it was the wrong one.”

”Ah, that!” He smiled faintly. ”When I learnt you were unmarried, I supposed that I had been followed onto the terrace and entrapped.”

”Entrapped?” It took her a moment to comprehend, then understanding dawned. ”Entrapped? Good Lord, what an insult.”

He lifted one shoulder. ”It is a constant threat to a man in my position.”

She glowered at him. ”You flatter yourself, Lord Nash. Were I a man, I might just call you out for such an affront and put a period to both you and your self-absorbed concerns.”

”I begin to wonder you don't do it anyway,” he said honestly. ”Are you a very good shot?”

”Yes, but a tad out of practice,” she said. ”I'd likely miss your heart and hit your bowels, so it would be a long, painful, and putrefying death.”

He winced. ”Then I have been saved from a terrible fate indeed,” he said, bowing to her. ”You are a rare beauty, my dear, but not worth dying for-slowly or otherwise. I give you good evening, Miss Neville. And I wish you joy of your unwed state. Long may it continue.”

Xanthia watched Lord Nash suspiciously, but his regret did indeed seem sincere. She gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment, then escorted her unexpected visitor to the door. Nash set his hand on the bra.s.s doork.n.o.b, but on impulse, Xanthia covered it with her own. ”Will you answer one last question for me?”

He looked down his hawkish, arrogant nose, and lifted one eyebrow. ”I cannot say,” he answered. ”Will it result in further threats to my life or my manhood?”

She ignored that, for she could see that he was struggling mightily to suppress a grin. ”Could I ask you-or what I meant was-” She paused to lick her lips uncertainly. ”Is it possible that you might be able to forget that...that last night ever happened?”

The crook in his eyebrow went up another notch. ”Oh, not in a million years,” he murmured, leaning just a little nearer. ”I shall take the memory of that lush, sensuous mouth of yours to the grave, my dear. And then there is the perfect turn of your fine, firm derriere beneath my hand, and the almost searing heat of your-”

”I did not mean it quite literally,” she interjected.

”Ah,” he said, his eyes drifting down her length. ”But you will not mind if I occasionally fantasize, Miss Neville, about what might have been? Here in London, the nights can be cold and lonely.”

”Lord Nash, please.” Xanthia felt the heat rise to her face. ”I exhibited an unfathomable lack of judgment, and I wish you would not remind me of it.”

”But if I cannot forget it, why should you?” His voice flowed over her like warm velvet. ”Indeed, Miss Neville, you have cut me to the quick. I had hoped that there was some small remnant of that little interlude which you, too, might wish to cling to.”

Xanthia tried to look grave. ”Never mind that,” she said. ”All I am saying, sir, is that...well, I am going to be out in society a little more than I had expected. I beg you to never, ever mention what happened to anyone else.”

He drew back a pace. ”Good Lord, Miss Neville!” he answered. ”What manner of man do you think me?”

She bit her lip, and glanced up at him. ”A gentleman, I hope?”

”A gentleman, indeed,” he murmured. ”I should sooner have my fingernails ripped out by a French inquisitionist than share such an intimate and treasured memory.”

Xanthia looked away. ”Thank you,” she said. ”I do not ask this lightly-and not even for myself.”

He shocked her then by touching her gently under the chin and drawing her face back to his. ”If not for yourself,” he asked quietly, ”then for whom do you ask it?”

She lowered her gaze, and he dropped his hand. ”For Lord and Lady Sharpe,” she managed to say. ”I must chaperone Lady Louisa through the remainder of her season. I shall even have to appear at Almack's. I fear my cousin's health has taken a fragile turn, and she cannot attend to it.”

”Good Lord! Almack's?” His black eyes danced with laughter. ”And you shall go?”