Page 20 of Her Sort of Scoundrel
“I meant no offense,” Granford said in his low, rumbling bass voice. It always dipped lower when he was apologetic. “He’s an amiable fellow, and I understand why you invited him.”
“He’s become a friend of my husband’s,” Cecily explained. “They have political leanings in common, but he’s also handsome and charming and fancies himself a bit of an irresistible rogue.”
“Exactly.” Granford flicked his gaze to where the young man stood near the fireplace conversing with Everton.
“Don’t worry,” Fiona reassured him. “We’ll prepare her well before her coming out.”
“Will we?” he asked softly, the words seemingly meant for Fiona alone as he turned and fixed his dark green gaze her way.
Cecily excused herself with a little too much obvious alacrity for Fiona’s taste, and suddenly she and Granford were alone, facing each other.
Fiona had rarely ever felt tongue-tied in her life. But, despite her newfound resolve, he flustered her. His nearness, his scent, that searching gaze that seemed to ask something of her.
Something far more intimate than a request to help his ward.
“I told Miss Forbes that I would assist her, and I will.” She indicated Wolverhampton with a glance. “With such matters in particular.”
“Fending off rapscallions, you mean?” He took a sip of his drink to hide what Fiona very much suspected was a smile.
“Yes,” she told him bluntly. “A lady must learn to protect herself from such men.”
He turned serious immediately, his brows drawing together. “Of course, you’re right. I know that she’ll be vulnerable. She trusts easily, is curious about everything, and wants to think the best of everyone.”
“Those are admirable qualities. A young woman’s sense of wonder and passion should be encouraged, but some men take it as an invitation where none was intended.”
Granford watched so intently that Fiona glanced away before meeting his gaze again.
“Did that happen to you, Fi?” He took a step closer. “Did someone hurt you?”
His jaw tightened the minute the question was out, and she suspected he was thinking what she was. Thathehad once hurt her. Though, of course, she’d been speaking of how a man might physically overpower a young lady.
When his eyes softened into the same sorrowful expression he wore the day he’d burst into her conservatory, Fiona lifted a hand to forestall another apology.
“Don’t, Dash.”
He took a step closer. So close that her outstretched hand brushed his shirt front before she snatched it back.
“I meant that Miss Forbes should be trained in the art of self-defense.”
“Are you?” He kept his voice low, as if they were sharing some intimate secret.
“I am,” she told him proudly. “This close, I could disable you in but a few strategic motions.”
He didn’t try to hide his smile this time. “I know I shouldn’t want you to show me, but I do.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t enjoy it,” Fiona told him, her tone low to match his.
He knocked back the reminder of his drink, all the while watching her over the rim. “Then tell me what you’d do,” he said once he’d set the tumbler aside.
Fiona swallowed hard and assessed the parts of his body—the parts of any man’s body—that she might focus on if she felt endangered.
“The neck,” she told him quietly. “Even with a gentleman’s elaborate ties and cravats, it’s a vulnerable spot.” She couldn’t help but note the muscles in his neck, the clean-shaven sharpness of his jaw. “The nose and eyes are vulnerable too. Soft tissue.”
“Gruesome,” he said with an amused shiver.
“Or lower, of course,” she said as she flicked her gaze to his groin.
Dash’swhole body heated under Fiona’s inspection. Having her assess him physically set his blood aflame. He suddenly wanted out of the constriction of his coat, his neatly arranged tie, his tailored trousers. And, mercy, how he wanted to let his own gaze take her in as boldly.
