Page 55 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
They moved away from each other, passing other people, before they met up again. She still refused to look at him, moving stiffly through the dance steps, her heart racing.
“I am not having an affair with Lady Isabella,” he whispered, staring at her intently. “I am not having an affair withanylady. The only woman I can think about isyou, Catherine.”
“You lie,” she hissed as he passed by her. “I know that you lie.”
“You want to believe that I am lying,” he countered, his voice low and husky. “It suits your purpose to believe that I am lying. You do not want to admit the truth.”
“What truth?” She glared at him. “What are you talking about?”
The dance was nearing its end. The final notes of the orchestra were filling the air.
He leaned down, whispering in her ear, “That you want me as much as I want you.”
Catherine glared at him. He moved away, smiling at her serenely. The dancers clapped politely. He bowed his head to her before moving away, pushing through the crowd.
Catherine stood there, trembling with rage. And something else. Her skin was tingling, and she knew that her face was flushed. Her arousal was embarrassing although she knew that no onelooking at her would be aware of it. They would attribute her high color and breathlessness to exertion from the dance.
Her hands balled into fists at her sides. He was impossible. Impossible!
Another dance was starting. Catherine sighed, forcing herself to move away from the dance floor. Determinedly, she looked straight ahead. She wasn’t going to seek him out. She wasn’t going to watch him and Lady Isabella talking again.
Her heart throbbed painfully. He was lying to her. The rake was flirting with the lady, and if he wasn’t having an affair with her yet, it wouldn’t be long until he was. And she refused to witness it.
Let him do as he will. It had nothing to do with her at all.
“Your wife is looking rather amazing this evening,” Kenneth remarked, staring at Catherine across the room. “There is a buzz around her. No one can stop talking about that daring gown of hers.”
Thomas sighed heavily. He was feeling aroused beyond measure after that dance, but he was also frustrated in more ways than one. Catherine was the most stubborn woman he had ever encountered. Why couldn’t she just admit that she was jealous and wanted him?
“Yes, well, she likes to cause a sensation,” he said, his voice laced with irritation. “She is contrary.”
“You have quite a bee in your bonnet,” Kenneth noted mildly, raising his eyebrows. “Is she getting under your skin, old friend? You want more than just bedding her?”
“Do not talk like that,” Thomas growled, rubbing his neck. “I refuse to discuss it with you any longer.” He hesitated. “She is mywife. It is a private matter. It is bad enough that my grandmother wants to know all the ins and outs of the business, harping on about whether Catherine is with child or not.”
Kenneth threw his hands in the air in surrender. “We will not talk about it any longer,” he said, grinning. “It is entirely your affair.” He glanced at Thomas. “Although I will say one last thing, Newden—youhavedeveloped feelings for that lady. You are as skittish as a foal around her, and you cannot stop looking at her. Your eyes are haunted, my friend.”
Thomas turned away, irritated, refusing to acknowledge what his friend had just said. It was just Kenneth, prattling on in his usual artless way. His friend had no idea of what he was feeling… or if he was feeling anything at all—which he wasn’t.
“Oh, I say,” Kenneth continued, grabbing his arm, his eyes shining, “look at those ladies over there. They are exquisite. Do you know who they are?”
Thomas sighed, gazing in the direction his friend indicated. Two tall, raven-haired ladies were moving through the crowd. They were willowy and very elegant.
“Those are the Harrow sisters,” he said, with another sigh. “Georgiana and Eliza. Their father is a minor Scottish noble. I think they have only just arrived in London for the Season.”
“Sisters?” Kenneth looked intrigued. “Really?”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, really. Is it that unusual? Of course, they are sisters. They are practically identical. I can barely tell one from the other.”
Kenneth drained his champagne and then handed the empty glass to Thomas. “Wish me luck,” he muttered, smoothing back his hair with one hand. He glanced at Thomas. “Unless you wish to accompany me to flirt with the delectable black-haired sisters?”
“No,” Thomas said curtly, “I do not.”
Kenneth grinned, clapping him on the back. “You see? Youarefalling for your wife, Newden! You can barely look at another woman. You could not even flirt with Lady Isabella, and the lady trails you like a puppy and would surely fall into your hands like ripe fruit off the vine if you just snapped your fingers.”
Thomas glared at him. “Just go and do what you must, Dunford.” He drained his champagne. “I will still be here whenthe sisters send you away. They are both betrothed in Scotland, you know. You are not going to have any luck.”
Kenneth looked wounded. “A man can only try.”
