Page 47 of The Lady is Trouble
“Your temerity astounds,” he said, angling his head and catching her gaze. Light from a sconce near his shoulder highlighted the stunning planes of his face as he frowned. The tantalizing aroma of citrus and something very earthy, Julian’s scent alone, drifted to her, lighting a fire in her belly and sending a wild, hot sweep to her toes. She shifted from one slipper to another to encourage the feeling to seep out the soles of her feet.
“I don’t suppose a chaperone is hiding underneath that lovely crimson skirt?”
“Minnie is waiting in the carriage. With Humphrey. Guards are posted at each entrance and in the garden. If it makes you feel any better, they’re irritated, as well. Well, not the guards.” Piper pleated silk between her fingers until the fabric felt as warm as her skin. “Minnie said she’s never seen such brazenness, even in her mother’s workplace.”
Julian reached wide and grabbed a glass from a passing footman, downing the contents in one gulp. “So you’ve less sense than a prostitute? Huh.” He turned the glass in his hands as if it held the answer to a problem. “Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier shines much too far—or I am much too near.”
Piper shook her head. This conversation was senseless. Was he quotingByron? “Are you soused?”
A sputter she supposed was a laugh parted his lips. “I’m not sober.”
“I’m not letting you go alone.”
His hand stilled, crystal suspended between finger and thumb, an internal debate about pitching it against the wall. “I’m aware of the situation, Yank. The yin and yang of our relationship. Ashcroft’s money clip is wrapped in a handkerchief in my pocket lest it encourage further visions should I touch it. Honestly, I’m scared to touch it again.”
“After the other night—”You need me with the visions, she wanted to clarify but felt this declaration might send his glass to its death.
Another low laugh rolled forth as he shrugged in defeat.
“I’ll be helpful.”
He jabbed the glass at her like a weapon. “Care to wager on that?”
“What are the terms?” she asked because she’d never backed away from a dare in her life. A crowded ballroom wasn’t going to be the start.
He leaned against the marble column, a shoulder perch that set his long body into a slump both arresting and exact. His aura exploded, trails of red snaking through a burst of blue. Passion, ire. She yearned for the first and wished, foronce, there would be no demand for the second. Powerlessly, her gaze traveled from his polished patent shoes to the emerald stickpin lanced through his snowy-white cravat.
His expression was composed as his head lifted, a slow burn igniting beneath her skin as their gazes clashed. “I feel as if I’m being mentally stripped of my clothing, one agonizing piece at a time.” He tapped the rim of the glass to his lips, lashes lowering to lessen the impact of his statement. “It’s quite arousing, I’m sorry to admit.”
Piper’s breath seized, nipples peaking as if Julian had sucked them between his teeth.
Nodding to an elderly baron who called his name as he passed, Julian flipped the glass from one hand to the other. “This wager. My terms, is it?”
My, hewasfoxed.
The urge to capture the drop of champagne clinging to his bottom lip was crushing. What would he do if she slid her hands into his hair and yanked him off his always steady balance? Had the roar of a ballroom not intruded, she might have accepted the challenge her famished body threw at her watchful mind.
“If you keep looking at me like that, Yank, scrap the wager. We’re not going to make it out of this ballroom.”
She crossed her arms and blew out a breath:all or nothing, Piper. “One night,” she whispered, glancing around to ensure no one heard her. Fortunately, to her left, Lord Ranier was arguing with a gentleman she believed the Marquess of Everleigh. Over a woman, no doubt. Possibly the frantic, quite beautiful one gesturing next to them. Naturally, the crowd had gravitated to the trio with a magnetic force.
Julian pushed off the column, rising to his full height. “Excuse me?”
“If I help you, and I’m going to…” She shrugged as her hands were occupied, twisting her gown into disarray. “If you accept my help, that is, I claim one night.” She tried for a smile, but Julian’s gaze was as hard as the marble he rested against, and she was not an able negotiator. Deceiver, yes, negotiator, no. “Consider it payment, if you’d like.” The request went well with her dress—those werealwaysthe terms in the establishment where Minnie had acquired it.
Julian stepped closer, but not too, a dent forming between his brows. “Payment?”
She nodded.
“For my services?”
“For one night.” She looked him dead in the eye, contradicting how hard her knees were shaking. “I want to know. And I wantyouto show me.”
“You want to know,” he finally whispered in a tone of distinct bewilderment. His fist went to his temple, pressing against what had to be a headache. “And you want me to show you.”
She thrust her hand out, a crass American tradition, and certainly not one a woman typically employed. “Agreed?”
Julian’s gaze bounced to her hand. “This is no wager. It’s a business transaction.”