Page 5 of Never Kiss a Scot
Several couples moved out of Joanna’s way as she strode toward the Scotsmen. But before she was halfway, she was waylaid by a short masculine form who stepped directly into her path.
“My dear Miss Lennox! What a pleasure it is to see you here tonight!” Edmund Lindsey exclaimed.
God’s teeth!Joanna forced a smile on her face as she turned her attention to Edmund. He bowed his head to her, and she couldn’t help but note his unfashionable hairstyle, a decade out of date, and the rather foppish style to his clothes. While his face and features were genuinely considered fine and attractive, it did nothing for his personality. His cravat was far too elaborately folded and was wilting in the heat of the room like a hothouse flower losing its bloom. He struck her as a rather pathetic creature, and Joanna suffered a twinge of guilt that she could not find it in her heart to like him.
“Mr. Lindsey,” she said on a sigh. “How are you?”
“I am well, now that I’ve had the good fortune to run into you.” He preened beneath her gaze, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His open flattery, once tolerable, had become quite irritating. “I don’t suppose you have any dances open?”
“Why…no. I’m so sorry.” It was a lie, but she was not about to dance with him, even though he seemed to be the only man in England who wanted her. Yes, it was completely rude to lie about one’s dances like that. Everyone knew a young lady ought to accept any dance offered, no matter who the man was and whether or not she liked him, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept.
“Then perhaps I could fetch you a glass of ratafia?”
“Er, yes, I suppose that would be all right.” It would at least give her a few minutes alone, and she could plan her escape from the hall. It would be easy enough to flag down a hackney if she could make it outside without Edmund following.
“Be right back, my dear!” Edmund bustled off, nudging his way through the crowds. Joanna sighed in relief before she located Brock once again and headed toward him and his brothers.
Brock seemed to notice her when she was within a few feet of him because he pushed off the pillar and stood straight as she came up to him. He did not bow, nor did he incline his head or provide anything other than a civil greeting. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she glared at him. By God, she was going to get an answer from him, scandal be damned.
What was the worst that could happen? Yet another empty dance card? No bouquets of flowers? No eager gentlemen upon her doorstep? She was used to such disappointments already, except for that damned Edmund. But that was a whole different problem to deal with.
He was wealthy and quite connected in society, but those qualities held little interest for her. Plenty of other women had made it quite clear they would marry him, so why couldn’t he turn his affections toward one of them? There was just something about Edmund—the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching—that unsettled her.
An idea occurred to her. Perhaps she could create a scandal to scare him off? By this point, it seemed to be her only option.
Better to be alone than Edmund’s bride. The thought threatened to drown her with its bleak outlook. She understood that many women married for security, but she could not. The idea of marrying a man, sharing his bed, sharing in his life when she did not feel a passion for him… Her stomach rolled again, but she kept her composure.
“So you’ve returned?” she asked, not caring that people were already starting to turn and look her way.
“Aye, I have,” Brock answered in that soft, dark voice that made her insides melt. It was a lover’s voice—not that she was supposed to know such things.
“And you did not think that perhaps you ought to pay a call to my brother…orme?” she added, trying to hint at what he had done to her without letting her hurt and anger flare too openly. He hadkissedher, for heaven’s sake. The least he could have done was to come back to make things right between him and Ashton and…kiss me again.
“We came down for the wedding. And I did pay a call to your brother when we first arrived two days ago.”
“You’ve been heretwodays?” She hated how shrill her voice sounded.
“I would have come sooner, but I canna leave my lands alone for long. There’s much that needs looking after.”
He didn’t want her, then. Nothing about their encounter seemed to have remained in his memory. The kiss had been nothing more to him than a means to silence her so he could rescue his sister. She staggered back a step, the fresh pain from this blow being all too unexpected. Brock stepped close, catching her hand and lifting her dance card out where he could see it and the bare spaces where men’s names ought to have been.
“Empty? Did you arrive late?” His eyes searched hers for answers.
She swallowed a harsh laugh. “It’salwaysempty. I’m not worth a dance.”
A spark of fire lit his eyes. “Not worth a dance?” The edge in his tone was unnerving, as if the words she had spoken offended him. Then he gripped her hand and dragged her out into the middle of the couples lining up for a dance. Too stunned to refuse, she got in line with the other ladies, still staring at him as he shoved his way between two gentlemen to pair with her. The music began, and they started to follow the steps, twirling, clapping, marching, but all of her focus had fallen on him and the way he never took his eyes off her. He was a wonderful dancer, which surprised her.
In the last month, she’d conjured up all sorts of silly dreams about him and what he was like. A dashing Scottish warrior, a brute, even a highwayman, but never a fine dancer. Rosalind had spoken a little to Joanna about her past and the cruel world her father had created for her and her brothers. Joanna knew that Brock had often taken beatings meant for his younger sister to protect her. In a grim world like that, how could he have learned to dance like such a gentleman? It was one mystery that she would likely never have answers to.
The dance ended, and the couples around them began to pair with new partners, but Brock stayed close to her.
“Another?” he asked.
“But… We shouldn’t. People will talk…”
“Talk doesn’t bother me.” And it apparently didn’t. His eyes never left her face, even though quite a few people now stared at them in wide-eyed shock. It was completely forbidden to dance with any man more than once. Yet she didn’t find it in herself to care in that moment what rules she was ready to break for this man. His intensity and the way he didn’t seem to care about anything but her made her feel wild and reckless, like when she’d been a child and had toured part of the countryside near Cornwall. She’d stood on the edge of the cliffs, feeling the wind buffet her body hard enough that she’d almost fallen to her death. The spark of fear and excitement of that moment and this were almost the same. She didn’t want to stop feeling so…alive.
“Very well.” She let him dance with her again and again, and then, when that dance was done,again.
