Page 35 of Her Wicked Highwayman
He had loved to dance, but the darkness in his soul had eventually drowned even the simple joys in life, such as a waltz with a pretty woman.
Ashton placed a hand on his shoulder. “Eight women.Surely there’s one among these fine ladies who might be your destiny?”
Destiny?Until he’d abducted that pretty little creature and taken her to his lodge, he hadn’t believed in such things. He fought off the urge to reach for the pearl necklace he’d woundaround his wrist, which he’d tucked under his coat sleeve. He’d wanted to feel that pearl, the only piece of her that he possessed, brush against his skin. That woman had made him think destiny might indeed exist. But he couldn’t marry a woman like that—a woman who stole, a woman just like him. Isla needed a mother, not a thief, because her father already was one.
Rafe swallowed a laugh and simply answered his brother with a nod. Then Ashton took his wife to greet their hosts, the Mertons, leaving Rafe to fixate on how quickly he could entice eight women to dance with him so that he could make his escape.
A familiar voice called out, “Rafe, what the devil are you doing here?”
He turned to see Graham Humphrey, the younger brother of the Earl of Lonsdale, who was one of Ashton’s friends. As younger brothers to infamous members of the League of Rogues, Graham and Rafe got along splendidly whenever their paths crossed.
“Graham.” He shook hands with his old friend. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Graham was much like Rafe and chose to spend his time with opera singers and ballet dancers or the latest actress who was taking London by storm. A ball with fresh-faced young women hoping for marriage proposals was the last place the younger Humphrey brother would normally be.
Graham shrugged. “I vowed to wife hunt this year, if only so my mother would leave me at peace for another season. What about you?”
“The same fate, I fear, though my mother has enlisted my brother to see me leg-shackled. How are the prospects tonight? Any chit worth a dance?”
Graham chuckled. “Well, the Merton girl is certainly worth a dance. I found her quite lively, yet with no silly stars in her eyes. A sensible creature with stunning curves.”
“Which one is she?” Rafe vaguely remembered Rachel Merton growing up as neighbors. She’d attended family picnics and gone shopping in the nearby village with Joanna, but Rafe had paid so little attention to younger women back then. His sights had been set on the experienced courtesans in London, women who expected nothing but passion from a virile young man. Tonight, however, he would be dancing with young women who dreamed of finding a husband, which meant he had to be on his best behavior. Any sign of flirtation could be taken the wrong way and he could end up facing the father, expecting a request for permission to court her.
“Rachel Merton is the dark-haired beauty in the white-and-gold gown.” Graham discreetly tilted his head, and Rafe followed his gaze across the ballroom.
An admittedly stunning creature was dancing with a gentleman. Her dark hair was pulled up in a fashionable style, with a diamond-studded gold tiara nestled in her tresses. Her dress was no less than the height of fashion, and her face glowed with animation as she laughed at something her dance partner had said.
“Quite pretty,” Rafe admitted, but nothing in this woman enchanted him the way his little fire drake had when she’d defied him by slipping that pearl necklace into her bodice. Was he now to measure every woman againsther? He let out a sigh of disappointment as he looked over the other guests.
A tingle shot across his skin, like the feeling of a coming summer storm.
There, in the shadows at the edge of the light, was a woman unnoticed by the men around her. It was little wonder, given how little attention she drew to herself. Her dark hair was pulledup in a simple style and she wore no adornments on her ears, neck, or brow. Her gown, clearly several seasons out of date, was a somewhat simple thing, yet somehow on her utterly striking at the same time. The dark-blue gown was covered with a sparkling silver netting that had hundreds of stars stitched into patterns of the constellations of the night sky.
When Rafe’s gaze moved up to the woman’s face, he sucked in a breath as he felt an invisible fist drive itself into his belly.
The clever little thief. The seductress he’d made love to in his hideout. The fire drake who’d stolen his loot and made him want to shake and kiss her all at once. It washer.
He grabbed Graham’s forearm. “Who is she?” he said in a desperate whisper.
Graham glanced about, clearly confused as to who Rafe meant. “Who?”
“The woman just there. The one in the blue gown with silver netting.”
Graham studied the girl for a moment. “I haven’t the faintest idea. I saw her speak to the Merton girl and I believe they might be friends, but I haven’t been introduced to her. She’s been quite the wallflower this evening. So much so that I barely noticed her.”
Wallflower? No, she was no trembling wallflower—she was ever-growing lush green ivy, covering the entirety of his dark soul.
“She is...” There were no words that could encompass what she was. She was as bewitching as the night sky that adorned her body.
“I imagine she’s poor as a church mouse,” Graham said. “Gown’s too old. She’s not even wearing paste jewels to pretend she’s better off. You had better be careful, old friend. That parson’s mousetrap might shut on you if you get too close.”
Poor? Ha!That woman had stolen a fortune from him, Will, and Caspian. He couldn’t help but wonder why she was playing a poor church mouse now. Was she clever enough to know that showing a sudden growth in wealth as a single woman with no male family members would be highly suspicious? Yes, yes of course she was. She was indeed far too clever, and the thought of her cleverness turned in the right direction made his blood run hot with lust. Oh, the things he could teach her, the things she would embrace with wicked excitement...
Rafe began to wind his way through the guests, stalking his prey. He had never imagined in a thousand years that he would stumble into her, let alone at a country ball.
All the fantasies he’d been having about her in the last month, what he would do when he found her, flashed across his mind like a dazzling, enticing kaleidoscope.
The woman stared with muted resignation at the dancing couples, clearly at a loss as to what to do but not willing to draw attention to herself. She hadn’t seen him yet, which gave him time to admire her. How could she not be drawing everyone’s gaze? She was like a star in the night sky. Even without the artifice of candlelight, she shone. She needed no adornments, no jewels, but here she faded beneath the sconces and chandeliers, her celestial brilliance dimmed. But he saw her, and he would not let his shining star escape him this time. He would have her in his bed, and he would get his stolen money back.
His view was blocked as Rosalind and Ashton came to speak with her. Rafe shifted his position to get a better look and saw that the color had drained from her face, so much so that her skin had turned a worrying shade of alabaster. What was Ashton saying to her to make her look suddenly ill?
