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His gaze struck her like a blade, sharp, unyielding, meant to carve itself into her skin. There was no softness in it, no teasing glint or playful arrogance. Just something dark and primal, something that burned too hot and settled too deep.

His gaze dropped to where Lord Ainsley’s hand rested on her waist, then flicked back to hers, smug and dark. Heknew. He knew that Lord Ainsley’s hands wouldn’t make her gasp in pleasure.

Her body tingled with awareness, and she fought to keep her composure. The dance ended, but she barely noticed.

Lord Ainsley took her hand and kissed it in a proper way. “It was an absolute pleasure, My Lady.”

Diana had to will herself to look at him, a pleasant smile on her trembling lips. “I am so happy, My Lord, that we prevented a crime.”

If he appreciated her wit, he didn’t show it. But he did look at her with interest, as if he was considering a possibility.

“May I call on you, My Lady?”

“It would be nice to discuss the trials of life, My Lord.”

“And the security of it,” he added.

Diana opened her mouth, but no words came out. Lord Ainsley chuckled as if it was him who had rendered her speechless. It wasn’t.

Behind him, James moved.

He didn’t rush—he didn’t need to. He walked like a feral beast among tame animals, his look dark and predatory, all aimed at her. He was coming for her with a clear warning. She had taunted the beast, and now she would find out how it was to be a prey.

Diana didn’t care. Her pulse thrummed with exhilaration. She lifted her chin ever so slightly, her lips curling into the smallest, most imperceptible smirk.

She had done this. She had made him move.

CHAPTER 13

Battle of Wills

James was avoiding Diana. He deliberately made the herculean effort not to seek her out. Even Richard noticed that and didn’t once mention her name.

James knew she was there. He had made such a foolish display of how they would see each other at this ball. It was…

Blast it!He had promised her. But he could not keep his promise, not tonight.

Tonight, he was James Bolton, the Marquess of Crawford, the son of the Duke of Pemberton. He was his father’s son, bound by duty. His focus had to be on keeping away the vultures coming to pick at his father like the carcass-hungry nobles they were. He couldn’t leave Solomon’s side, and if he would even glance Diana’s way, he was risking doing exactly that.

He breathed a bit easier since Richard rushed to his side to offer his open support and Lord Ashford came to cordially greet Solomon.

Still…

“Lord Crawford.”

James turned to find Selina standing in their little guarded group. “Your Grace.”

“Duke,” Selina greeted his father respectfully before turning to her husband. “Richard, I am sure you are utterly delighted to see an old friend, but leaving me alone by the ballroom was cruel.”

“I left you with your sister.” Richard was careful not to mention Diana’s name.

James hated that his friend knew him well, but he had not expected to hate the words coming out of Selina’s mouth more.

“Well, Diana hasn’t stopped dancing all night.”

James looked down at his friend’s wife, only to find her smiling at him. His head snapped toward the dance floor, and sure enough, there she was. Diana was in the center of it. Dancing. With someone. Someone else. Someone that wasn’t him.

James knew it shouldn’t matter. He had three more promenades with her and nothing more. He was her tutor, not her suitor. If anything, he should be proud of the outcome of their brief lessons. Diana was blooming in front of the whole ton, who watched as if pure magic was unraveling.