Page 7 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
Who is he?
Chapter 3
“I…” William faltered for a second.
He didn’t seem able to move. His hand was still on the lady’s waist, and he somehow realized that in their kerfuffle together, in danger of falling over, her hand had also gone to the center of his chest to keep herself balanced. It rested there still, over the middle of his waistcoat buttons, as they stared at one another. Heat shot through William’s body, and his eyes couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of the woman.
She was taller than most women in attendance, striking with her willowy frame, with her blonde hair curling so madly it was in danger of falling out of its updo. It was her eyes that struck him the most, though. They were the purest blue, almost like aquamarine gems set over high cheekbones.
Then, the heated spell was broken. All of a sudden, those aquamarine eyes shot down to her hand in the middle of his chest.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered and stepped back.
William released her waist, heat still coursing through his body, despite the fact he was no longer touching her. Every scandalousthought he had ever indulged in his life seemed to return at once as he gazed at the pretty face of the stranger.
“No, no, I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly, not wanting the lady to run away from him just yet. “I was not looking where I was going.” He cleared his throat, praying that somehow, by talking normally, he could persuade himself that he was not imagining himself and this stranger now tangled together in some darkened room.
What is wrong with me? Have I lost all ability to think like a gentleman?
He cleared his throat for a second time and gestured to the busy ballroom behind them.
“I found a need to escape the people here tonight to get a drink and should have looked where I was putting my feet.”
She smiled a little, that look transforming her features into something all the more entrancing than before.
God’s wounds. I need to get control of myself!
He turned away to the table and slyly adjusted his trousers, reaching for a glass of claret with hurried desperation.
“Well, I should thank you,” she whispered, moving to his side. “For catching me, or my first night at one of these events could have been a disaster, resulting in me falling flat on my face.”
“If it helps, I already nearly did that.” He lowered his voice and leaned toward her, wondering if it was the effect of the two glasses of claret he had already drunk that evening which were making him bolder than usual. “I took two steps into the ballroom, tripped on a step, and nearly went flying. I would have done, too, had my butler not been by my side to catch me.”
She giggled softly, her head bending forward and one loose curl falling past her cheek. His hand itched to push that curl back, to instigate another touch, to feel that rushing heat again, but instead, he moved his hand behind his tailcoat, tightening it into a fist to keep from touching her.
“I wonder how many gentlemen here tonight have been saved by embarrassment from the work of their staff?”
Her wit took him by surprise, and he chuckled warmly.
“In my case, I would be nowhere without my butler. He is my friend, too, and a lifesaver.”
Her expression softened even more, as if he had said something wonderous indeed. They stared at each other, and William wassuddenly aware of how deeply she breathed, her chest rising and falling. His eyes darted down to the rather revealing neckline of her gown before he snatched his gaze away.
Get a hold of yourself!
“I hope you are not injured from our fumble?” he said, gesturing back to the spot where they had collided.
“No, no, I am quite well, thank you.” She shook her head, raising her glass of champagne to her lips and taking a sip. Her eyes widened at the glass, and for a brief second, he wondered if she’d ever tasted champagne before or not. “I may have only had a couple of sips of this champagne, but apparently, it’s too much for me already if I can’t even control my own feet anymore.”
“That men should put an enemy into their mouths to steal away their brains.” William raised his own glass to his lips.
He closed his eyes, feeling more inadequate by the second standing next to the woman beside him. He feared he was right when he had told Henry earlier that evening that he was not practiced at talking to ladies and, therefore, feared he would make a fool of himself. It was hardly helped by the fact that he was now trying to avoid looking at the lady beside him as much as possible, in case he felt that heat again.
“Shakespeare,” she said suddenly. With the word, he couldn’t help looking back at her again, his jaw slackened. “Are yousurprised to find a woman that reads Shakespeare, Sir?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow.
“No, it’s not that, just that…” he faltered, wondering how best to describe it. “I think I have had a habit of boring all the ladies here tonight. If I talked about Shakespeare with other women here, no doubt I would be scorned for it. I hardly expected another to recognize a quote about drinking from the great bard.”
“Oh, but he had many great quotes on such a subject, did he not? Now, let me think.” She tapped her glass and lifted her chin in thought, staring at the ceiling. Entranced, William could no longer look away as he waited for her to say more. “Thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou has no name to be known by, let it be devil!”
