Page 4 of The Lady Was Lying (Greydon #3)

Once again, she briefly wondered whether she ought to recognize him and then considered introducing herself.

Witnessing his reaction to her name would reveal quite a bit about him.

Had he heard the whispers about her promiscuous behavior?

Or was he so new to society that he didn’t know of her at all?

If she were smart, she would bid him good evening and then slip away, but something about his manner intrigued her, so she did something far more dangerous than tell him who she was—she released the full force of her sensuality.

Slowly and deliberately, she shifted so she was bathed in the moonlight.

All of her assets were on full display in the shimmering golden gown, and experience had taught her that she could be rather potent, but his gaze didn’t so much as flicker away from her face. Other than scrutinizing her when he’d asked if she was cold, he seemed unaware of her physical appearance.

His lack of reaction felt like a challenge. Or a dare.

One that she shouldn’t accept.

It came as no surprise that she wanted his attention to drop to her rose-tinted lips, exposed bosom, and slightly flared hips.

She might have railed about the wanton nature of men on more than one occasion, but she was nothing if not contrary, and even though she shouldn’t, she desired his admiration.

After all, if he didn’t appreciate her, how would she get him to kiss her?

Her thoughts halted. No. No. No .

Kissing him was a terrible idea, and until that moment, she hadn’t even realized she was considering it.

But between his blush, his stammering, and his lack of leering, she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to feel his lips on hers.

Would kissing him be different from kissing other men?

Could he be the one who would finally make her feel something ?

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t appreciated the look of the men she had kissed in the past. Thick thighs, broad shoulders, and a noticeable bulge were attractive, but physical attributes were simply not enough to inspire lust, or passion, or love.

She had no real reason to think this time would be different—and his face wasn’t even that striking—but the possibility seemed worth the risk.

As she watched, he crossed his arms over his chest and then uncrossed them and let them fall to his sides. His beauty wasn’t the kind that made it impossible to look away, but she couldn’t deny that he was neither too short nor too tall, with features that were even and reasonably pleasing.

In the silence, he seemed almost vulnerable, and her willpower was not strong enough to resist stepping closer and unleashing the charisma that had never failed her. It was akin to pulling heavy drapes aside and letting sunlight flood a shadowy room.

Slowly and deliberately, she arched her back and licked her lips. She imagined luring him closer, and as if she’d choreographed it, his gaze finally dropped and obediently locked onto her mouth. His eyes flared slightly as they traced the path of her tongue, but he didn’t react in any other way.

He didn’t attempt to initiate contact. Nor did he give her any indication that he might be overwhelmed by desire. For some reason, she wasn’t deterred by his infinitesimal response. If anything, his lack of reaction made her want to try harder.

Of all the men she’d kissed, she’d never met one who wasn’t easily seduced. In her experience, men simply took as if it was their due, and a man who didn’t was a rare specimen, indeed.

Slowly inching closer, she tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth and let her eyelids drop a fraction, so her gaze was sultry rather than direct. The time she’d spent practicing before her mirror proved worth it when his eyes widened slightly.

Power flooded through her.

He couldn’t help being seduced by her.

No one could .

Waiting until her bottom lip was plump and glistening, she beckoned him forward with nothing but the promise of her body and whispered, “Kiss me.”

As if in a trance, he leaned forward until they were so close to each other that his breath ghosted over her lips.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she waited for him to close the remaining distance between them.

Anticipation was the best part of every kiss she’d ever experienced.

It allowed her to imagine, however briefly, that the man in front of her was the one she’d been searching for.

The one who would make her feel .

She savored the possibility of experiencing passion for as long as she could.

A beat passed.

And then two.

The fantasy stretched, but he didn’t press his lips to hers. Instead, cold air abruptly feathered across her fevered cheeks and damp lips. Her eyes flew open to discover that he’d retreated several steps.

While she’d been savoring the anticipation of potential passion, he’d withdrawn, clasping his hands behind his back, as if to say he had no interest in kissing her, even though the desire on his face had not faded.

She faltered, uncertain of what to do. Her experience had not adequately prepared her for rejection.

“I…um…shouldn’t kiss you,” he finally said.

“You shouldn’t?” she asked.

No one had ever denied her.

Until now. Until him .

It was unthinkable.

If she hadn’t been so astonished, she might have been embarrassed. As it was, she was too busy trying to understand how he’d managed to stop himself from taking what she offered.

“You’re very pretty—” Pretty? Was he trying to insult her? “—but I’m a gentleman.”

“A gentleman?” she echoed.

He must utilize a different definition than the rest of society, because every other gentleman she’d encountered had taken her lips like it was their right. As if they couldn’t resist.

Why had he resisted? Did he find her unappealing?

It was difficult to imagine.

Instead of clarifying why being a gentleman precluded him from kissing her, he further insulted her by adding, “I would not dishonor my hosts by kissing a young lady during their ball.”

Her attention snagged on a single word. “Dishonor?”

He stepped back again, putting even more distance between them. A shiver ran through her, and she briskly rubbed her arms. The cold was bloody impossible to ignore after she’d nearly experienced his warmth.

“The Earl of Greydon welcomed me into his home to celebrate his sister. He trusted my honor would guide me.” His voice became more clipped as he spoke, as if he gained confidence as he explained himself.

“I intend to marry this year. If I accost you in the gardens, how can I trust myself to act accordingly in the future? It’s important that I know that I’ll be able to properly conduct a courtship.

My wife will be assured of my honor from the start, and I can’t have a moonlight rendezvous hanging over my head for the rest of the season. ”

It was her turn to step backward.

He was searching for a wife.

Of course he was. Why else would he attend the ball?

She tried to gather her composure while the reality of what she’d done slapped her in the face. Kissing a man with morals was a potentially unforgivable mistake.

One that could have far-reaching implications.

How could she be so careless?

Sebastian had promised he wouldn’t force her to marry, but if he saw her in the arms of an eligible gentleman tonight, there was no telling what he might do.

Especially seeing as she’d promised she would stop indiscriminately kissing inappropriate men and she’d sworn to stay within his sight all evening.

She’d made a liar of herself in more ways than one that evening, and it would be unfair to expect her brother to keep his side of their bargain when she had refused to keep hers.

Needing to escape the suddenly harsh glow of the moonlight, she shuffled further away until she was shrouded in darkness.

Hiding her beauty brought no relief.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Beauty had never actually helped her achieve anything.

As she always did when she felt trapped, she turned to biting sarcasm. “Heaven forbid you kiss a woman and not marry her.”

He stiffened. “A gentleman?—”

“—kisses whomever he wants. It’s no wonder you were overwhelmed while indoors. You are clearly unlike the rest of the men at the ball.” Her words were mean, far harsher than he deserved. Lashing out did nothing to diminish her discomfort, but it did offer him an invitation to respond bluntly.

“I find it hard to imagine that I’m the only man who refuses to randomly kiss an unfamiliar woman.

There is nothing more important to a gentleman than his honor.

” Straightening his jacket and squaring his shoulders, he looked down his nose at her.

“Honor is what defines a man. I came to London to meet, court, and marry an eligible young lady without displaying the slightest impropriety or disrespecting her in any way. I will not alter my plans.”

“My apologies to your future wife,” she responded before dropping into a mocking curtsy and spinning on her heel. Unwilling to give him the opportunity to further expound on what an exemplary gentleman he was, she disappeared into the bushes.

When she was certain he couldn’t see her, she picked up her skirts and ran to a partially obscured door that would allow her to reenter the house far from the ballroom.

She crept up the stairs and into her bedchamber. In the flickering firelight, she berated herself as she stripped off her gown and unpinned her hair. Once she was in her night rail, she flung herself onto the chair in the corner.

It was rare that she experienced regret, but as she stared out the window and into the night, she wished she’d listened to Sebastian and stayed in the damn ballroom. Nothing good ever came of encountering men in the shadows.

As she tried to tell herself that everything would be fine, the shame of rejection refused to dissipate, and she couldn’t help wondering what she would do if she couldn’t use her body to attract a man. Would her chance to experience passion eventually disappear entirely?