Page 77

“Your Grace, surely you know the correct steps to the dance,” he says.

“Surely you know when a lady is trying to tell you no.”

He ignores me, and my gaze tinges with red as I plan how I will exact vengeance on this man who dares to touch me unwanted.

This dance is longer than the first one, and I feel a bruise forming from where he’s adjusted his grip from my hand to my arm to get a better hold on me.

When a third song starts, I debate kicking him in the crotch, everything else be damned, when a shadow looms over us.

I look up, startled to find Eryx with his eyes a shimmering amber.

“May I cut in,” he says. The words are no less than a demand.

When the earl tries to splutter out some reason why Eryx cannot in fact cut in, Eryx reaches out, grips the earl’s wrist, and squeezes.

I hear asnap.

Lord Barlas shrieks as he doubles over, clutching his injured arm, and finally releases me. Thankfully, the sound is lost in the music that has picked up its tempo. However, Eryx doesn’t appear to be done with him. He places a hand on the man’s shoulder, and I have every intention of watching what he will do next to the earl, but I remember that we are in a public place and shouldn’t cause a scene.

I throw myself between the two men, bumping against Eryx’s extended arm. He turns that murderous gaze on me.

“Dance with me,” I say.

He doesn’t seem to hear me, but I dare to grab his arm and place it at my waist. Then I take the other in my grip. On the next beat, I spin him away from the injured man, whom no one else appears to have noticed.

When Eryx’s eyes land on me, they don’t dim. His body is rigid, though it manages to move as I direct it. He clearly doesn’t know the steps to this song. And why would he? It’s not as though I’ve taught it.

I lean forward. “Your eyes, Eryx. Get yourself under control.”

He shuts his eyes immediately. “I wasn’t done with him.”

“You are in a public place.”

“I don’t care. He washurtingyou.”

“I will handle him later.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“I’ll think of something. Perhaps pay off his mistress to leave him.”

Eryx’s eyes open; they’re a little less amber and a little more brown. “That’s not punishment enough.”

“It’s the only kind of punishment I can manage.”

“That’s why I intend to handle him. Men like that don’t deserve to live.”

I falter a step. “Are you saying that you would kill that man for me?”

His eyes widen, as though he’s just realizing the truth of what he’s said.

And meant.

Those butterflies start up in my belly again.

I look away from his face, at our joined hands. His white undershirt pokes out from his jacket. The sleeve is tinged red.

“Is that blood on your wrist?”