Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(6)

He nodded to his peers as he slowly paced around the room until he found the darkened hallway he was certain Gemma had taken.

Ah, the ladies’ lounge.

He waited in the shadows.

Within minutes, Gemma emerged.

Saints alive, he had forgotten how beautiful she was. Smooth red hair was piled high above her head, her soft cheekbones had the glow of youth, and her lips were just begging for a kiss.

Let them beg.

“My lady.” Colin stepped out of the shadows only long enough to pull her around the corner where they would not be seen. “May I have a word?”

Her lower lip trembled. She stared at him and nodded her head, just once.

“I will think of you no more,” Colin said, though his words seemed to tremble as they poured out of his mouth.

Gemma’s eyes widened. A blush stained her cheeks. “What if I say I will think of you forever?”

“Then you are a fool,” he spat, though his heart thumped wildly against his chest.

“I may be a fool, but at least I am not a coward.” Her eyes narrowed. She leaned forward, her chin nearly resting on his chest.

“Coward?” Minutes ago Colin had wanted to kill Anthony; now he was grateful, for at least he knew how to use his rakish charms against Gemma. Allow her to believe in his cool indifference when really all he wanted to do was reach out and touch her, pull her into his arms and never let go.

“Yes, I believe that is what I said. You are a coward.” Gemma’s blue eyes were glossy with unshed tears.

“I see.” Colin slowly inhaled her scent and reached to tilt her chin toward his mouth. Before he lost his nerve, he crushed his lips against hers, relishing the memory of their first kiss. The day that changed everything. The day she abandoned him and chose her family over love.

Her mouth was so soft, softer than he remembered. It was everything he wanted — everything he needed. For a minute the darkness didn’t seem so dark. The hole seemed not so deep. But it was an illusion, for she could not be trusted — not as a friend and surely not as a lover. She would stomp on whatever was left of his heart and leave him in utter darkness, even deeper in the hole of his own making.

With a laugh, he pushed her away. “Still as innocent as I remember. Thank you for reminding me, dear Gemma.”

She stared at him in breathless shock. “Reminding you of what?”

“What I’m missing, of course.”

Her eyes shined with a sudden hope. Hope he knew he would crush as surely as she had crushed his by rejecting his love last Season without as much as a goodbye. He answered her silent question.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I bid you goodnight.”





Chapter Three


A rake must at all times feign indifference, for if a man seems too interested, he risks losing the thrill of the chase. After all, what man desires to chase after a woman when she is already his to begin with? Indifference, my friends! Do not easily offer your smile, nor your attention. Make them beg for your gaze, your touch, your very words. And when the woman finally begs, when you have her in your clutches, simply take what you want and leave. It is as simple as that. —The Private Journal of Viscount Maddox



The words cut like a hot blade straight into her heart. The memory of his lips burned on hers, but his eyes were smoldering dark steel.

Gemma could say nothing to him in response. The thick emotion in her throat made speech impossible, even if she could piece together a suitable response. They say the line between love and hate is a thin one. Colin had crossed over. She saw it in his eyes. He hated her. And she hated that she loved him still.

Swallowing back the inevitable sob, Gemma spun on her heel and fled.

She couldn’t stay there. Not another moment. She would find Hawke and make him take her home.

Back inside the ballroom, she scanned the dancers for signs of her brother. He was nowhere to be seen. Twirling about, she searched the outskirts of the room. Again, no Hawke.

The irony served only to nauseate her further. He had been keeping such a close eye on her every moment, so much so that he had suggested following her to the ladies’ lounge, and yet now when she truly needed him, he had disappeared into oblivion.

Groaning inwardly, she knew she would have to return to the corridor. She only hoped she would not encounter Colin once more. With a deep breath, she resolved to find her brother, no matter what it took.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been so lost in her despair, she would have sensed someone behind her before turning abruptly, slamming straight into the broad chest of Lord Maddox, the husband of Gemma’s bosom friend, Bridget. He grunted at the impact.

“Pardon me, my lady,” he muttered breathlessly.

“Oh Lord Maddox! I am so sorry!” Gemma felt overwrought. All she wanted was to find her brother and leave that place.

“Lady Gemma?” He grasped her elbow to steady her on her feet. “Are you injured?”

“No, my lord. Only embarrassed. I should have taken more care with my direction.”

“No harm done, my dear.” Lord Maddox glanced around them as though searching out the reason for her haste. “Is anything amiss? You seem rather distraught.”

“Everything is well. I was just on my way to find my brother. Have you seen Lord Van Burge, perchance?”

“Yes, indeed. I just came from the tables where I persuaded him to take my place in the game. He is there still. May I escort you to him?”