Page 61 of When Bones Whisper
“Lord Sallow,” a voice boomed from nearby, dragging Charlotte’s attention to the helm of the ballroom.
Her breath hitched when she caught sight of him.
Nathaniel’s fingers enveloped the hand of the man he was greeting in a tight grip. Her pulse raced as she eyed him leaning against the wall, so casual yet commanding. He was tall, towering over most of the others. With a flick of his fingers, he loosened the silk burgundy necktie around his throat and let it hang loosely over his black waistcoat.
Behind the matte black and crimson mask half covering his face, his furnace-gray eyes surveyed the room, his gaze unfocused, searching beyond the many faces as if intent on finding someone in particular. His fingers trailed through the unruly mass of dark hair, the soft strands contrasting with the shorter beard running over his chiseled jawline.
With another sip of the richly spiced wine, she watched him over the rim of her glass. Notes from the orchestra in the musician’s gallery rose into a crescendo, matching the pounding of her heart. The dream, the bite, the massage, their talk in the attic—all came tumbling into her mind at once. A confusing wash of lust and fear sent butterflies swarming erratically in her stomach.
Nathaniel’s eyes cut to hers and a trickle of wine dribbled down her chin.
Oh God. With a roll of her eyes, she shook her head and wiped the liquid from her beaded bodice. How damned humiliating.
Nathaniel’s voice filtered through the music. “Excuse me,” he said to the man next to him without looking away from Charlotte and walked toward her.
Wait. Was that the Baron Eringhorn and his wife standing behind them?
She recognized the triangular scar on the left side of his lip, and the slight upturn to his nose. An embroidered letter E shimmered against his orange and purple waistcoat, the colors of his family. He shook the hand of Baron Ellenwood, who stood beside his wife.
Her jaw slacked. “Who invited them?”
“Nathaniel,” Alexander said nonchalantly.
“What?” Her jaw slacked. Nathaniel well knew what they had done to her family. She’d confided everything to him about how the Eringhorns destroyed her sister, how their son would cane Alice’s legs and embarrassed her. They’d gone after Charlotte’s mother too, spreading the rumors of their worshiping the devil and practicing the dark arts.
Rage roiled through her body. Hands clenched into fists at her side, and puffs of heated breath came out of her nose.
“Breathe,” Alexander murmured. “Don’t do anything rash.”
She turned in time to see Nathaniel reach them, his eyes immediately dropping to her throat, then the rest of her.
“You bastard.” Her jaw clenched, nostrils flaring when she noticed a smirk flirting over Nathaniel’s lips.
He tilted his head, eyes wide. “Well, hello to you too,sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He brushed a finger under her chin, which she pushed away. “Okay,little lamb. You look ravishing, by the way.”
“Oh, you would ravish me, I am sure.”
“I would take great pleasure in it,” he said with a purr, and her stomach clenched.
“Well, I would not.”
That was a colossal lie. God, there was something inherently wrong with her. When his eyes met hers, she wondered if he could see the pathetic longing that undoubtedly lingered in her gaze.
“You invited the Eringhorn family,” she stated before he could say anything else, her voice rising an octave.
The fire in her chest died when he didn’t immediately answer and instead raked his gaze leisurely over her figure, drinking in every curve.
“I did,” he said after a long pause.
“What exactly is wrong with you?” she asked, her tone settling into a breathy rasp.
His deep, baritone voice caressed her ears. “A multitude of things, I assure you.”
The bond hummed between them in a pulse of magic, like ropes tethering them together. It was infuriating and her anger toward him only seemed to blossom the primal need in her body, unconsciously drawing her closer until she had removed all the space between their bodies.
