Page 6 of A Kiss to Stop a Wedding

Sitting beside Flora, Matt’s concern that he might distract her faded. Her touch was sure and the performance near perfect. He was alert to every note, making sure he turned each page at the right moment, but at the same time he was enraptured by the pianist.

Flora was simply dressed in a gown of white gauze trimmed with green satin, the high waist and low neckline making the most of an admirable figure.

As her fingers flew over the keys Matt had an excellent view of her profile with its straight little nose and dainty chin.

Her hair was caught up in a green ribbon and a few red curls had been allowed to fall on to the ivory skin of her neck.

Every time he leaned in to turn a page he caught the faint, fresh scent of her perfume.

It teased his senses with thoughts of hot summer nights, the fragrance of jasmine filling the air.

While his eyes followed the music, part of his brain imagined planting delicate kisses on the slender column of her throat and his mouth slowly moving down to the soft mounds of those creamy breasts…

He flicked over to the last page and she played the final bars. As the music died away there was a burst of applause from Mr and Mrs Farnleigh.

Flora folded her hands in her lap. ‘Well, Mr Talacre, what did you think?’

‘Brava, Miss Warenne.’

‘Thank you, but it was not a flawless performance. You know it was not.’

He said, with perfect truth, ‘I heard nothing amiss.’

She turned to smile at him and Matt was transfixed by the happy glow in her hazel eyes. Time stopped. He had no idea how long they stayed thus, gazing at one another, perfectly at ease, until Mr Farnleigh broke the spell with an awkward cough.

‘Very good, my dear, very good,’ he said, in a hearty voice. ‘Lord Whilton will be most gratified when he hears it, eh, Talacre?’

‘The Viscount is a very lucky man,’ said Matt, dragging his thoughts back to the present.

Flora shook her head and looked away, blushing.

‘Will you play again?’ he asked her, but it was Mrs Farnleigh who came bustling up and answered him.

‘No, no, sadly there is no more time. Flora, my dear, pray ring the bell for the tea tray. Well, well, Mr Talacre, you see now how hard Flora has worked on that piece. It is an especial favourite of the Viscount’s and she has been at pains to learn it for him.

They are quite devoted to one another, you know. ’

Matt did not miss the note of warning in Mrs Farnleigh’s words and knew he must heed it. Flora Warenne might be a beauty, but she had told him herself she was sadly ignorant of the world and that blush on her cheek confirmed it. He would be a scoundrel indeed to flirt with such an innocent.

Flora moved away from the pianoforte, wondering if Matt would follow her, but Aunt Farnleigh gave him no opportunity to do so.

‘Pray come and sit down by me, Mr Talacre, and tell me how you are enjoying your stay in Whilton.’

Flora retired to a chair in the corner and observed her aunt and uncle as they engaged their guest in conversation.

It was clear they thought their guest might be a danger.

A rival to Lord Whilton for her affections.

Their concern was touching, but she knew it was unnecessary.

She enjoyed his company, but there was no danger of her falling in love with Matt Talacre.

At six-and-twenty she was far too old for girlish fancies of that sort.

There had been a time when she had been susceptible to the charms of a young man, but twice she had been ready to give her heart and her hand to a suitor, only to have them suddenly withdraw, leaving her hurt and bewildered.

She knew better than to risk her heart and her happiness on a passing infatuation.

At that moment Matt glanced across at her and she felt again the sudden tug of attraction.

She was thankful that she could recognise it and be on her guard against the man’s charms. Flora might not love the Viscount, but she liked him well enough and was marrying him for any number of practical reasons.

It was an arrangement that suited them both and she had no intention of jeopardising it by indulging in a flirtation with another man.

The party broke up shortly after and Flora could not be sorry, for the evening had become sadly flat. Her aunt and uncle had been at pains to keep Matt Talacre beside them, which she would have found amusing, had she not been so fatigued.

‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Warenne,’ he said, as he prepared to leave. ‘Your performance on the pianoforte was delightful. I hope to hear you play again one day.’

‘Thank you. Perhaps you shall.’

He took her hand and Flora’s weariness vanished. Her skin burned beneath his grip, tiny arrows of fire darting along her arm. Alarmed at her reaction to his touch, it was all she could do not to snatch her hand away.

To her relief he merely bowed over her fingers before releasing them and she watched him leave the room, listening to his retreating footsteps and the dull thud of the outer door closing.

Then she sank back on to her chair with a sigh of relief.

She was more vulnerable to his charms than she had thought!

* * *

Matt returned to his room at the Whilton Arms and stood for a moment, his back against the door.

He had learned precious little about Lord Whilton tonight, but far more than he wanted to know about the man’s fiancée.

Flora Warenne was beautiful, intelligent, and he found it far too easy to flirt with her, but he could not risk it.

Flirting was a dangerous game, even when played by those who understood the rules.

Not that he feared for his own heart, but she might mistake his intentions and he did not want to hurt her. Confound it, he liked the woman!

He should quit Whilton in the morning and instruct his lawyer to write to the Viscount. After all, he had identified the statue and could prove it belonged to Bellemonte. There was no need for him to get personally involved in its return.

* * *

However, after a night’s sleep, his mood was far more sanguine.

There might be no need for lawyers. He had heard nothing yet to suggest the Viscount was not a reasonable man—if that was the case, then this matter could be settled very quickly and without fuss.

And it could do no harm to learn a little more about Lord Whilton.

As for Flora Warenne, if he could make a friend of her, she would be a useful ally. The fact that he found her devilishly attractive was irrelevant.

Or so he told himself.