Waltzing with the Wallflower (Waltzing with the Wallflower #1)(12)

Unable to back down from anyone, especially his brother, Ambrose lifted his gaze and noted that unfortunately, Anthony was correct. Several men were watching Wilde and Cordelia, murmuring to one another and smiling with glee.

Well, he couldn’t very well fight them all off.

He grimaced, clearly alarmed with the idea that he needed to fight anyone off.

Then again…

Were they not friends? Close friends, that is. Who better to help her weed through the potential suitors than the one who started it all in the first place? At least he was secure in the fact that she was a shy girl, and men wouldn’t naturally approach her unless she was more welcoming.

Smugly, he finally felt he could breathe a little easier.

The dance finished none too soon, and Cordelia was back at his side.

“Do you think you’ll expire before the night’s end, Cordelia?”

She tilted her head and captured her bottom lip between her teeth. He found he couldn’t look away as she shrugged in response.

“Air?” he croaked.

“Ambrose?” Her voice was soft, so very quiet and tempting. “Are you well, my lord?”

He pulled at his cravat. “It is rather hot, don’t you agree?” Stifling was what it was. “Would you accompany me outside for a brief respite, Cordelia?”

“Of course.” She took his arm as he guided her to the open doors leading to the back terrace. “You look flushed, Ambrose. Perhaps we should retire for the evening?”

Of all the things for her to say. Did it have to be flushed and retire for the evening in the same sentence? Put it like that, and rest assured the only thoughts in his mind were enough to drive any sane man to drink. Pictures of the soft-spoken wallflower in his bedroom, that wild hair, her perfectly untouched lips—or at least he assumed them to be.

If anything, being outside was even more stifling, for they were alone. He must be going mad. He was with a wallflower, an innocent with no experience of the world, and here he was ready to choke to death on his cravat because she unwittingly tempted him.

It was the pressure of winning the bet.

It had to be.

“There is no need to retire, Cordelia,” he answered, finally gaining a deep breath of London air, which to be honest wasn’t at all refreshing. “You seemed to be enjoying the dancing. And wonder of all wonders, you did not faint from all the attention. In fact, you seem to be having—dare I say it—fun?”

At that she laughed, the intoxicating musical laughter that earlier had penetrated him leaving him defenseless and utterly dumbstruck.

“I did enjoy myself, but I imagine it was the company more than anything. Sir Wilde told me stories of your childhood with Anthony. And Anthony, in turn, told me of your times at university.”

And that was why she was laughing?

Because of him?

Asinine dunderheads, he’d kill them both. He’d march back in there right now and—

Cordelia laid a gloved hand across his forearm. “I had no idea you were such a lover of the arts, my lord. Or that you studied botany at university. Interesting hobby, considering you accused me of having an unhealthy fascination with foliage.”

He smiled; his senses tingled with her scent. “Yes, well, the plants you had chosen to stand by can cause a woman… harm.” Harm? If he could have groaned, he would have.

“Oh?” Her eyebrow quirked. “How so?”

Yes, how so? Lovely question. “Well…” He gave his brain adequate time to find a solution to his predicament. “You see… when a woman of such a porcelain complexion stands too near, it is believed that plant can secrete certain toxins which, when in close contact with such delicate sensibilities, can transform one into—”

“A wallflower?” she offered, and then slapped her hands across her mouth.

Ambrose burst out laughing. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Forgive me,” Cordelia said, still blushing from her outburst. “I should not have interrupted that interesting…speech.”

Her head fell forward, most likely embarrassed still. A strand of her unruly hair dropped across her cheek. Without thought, Ambrose reached out to push it behind her ear, but it would not stick.

He tried again, this time his hand shaking. Cordelia wrapped her fingers around his. “Is there something wrong with my hair? It has always been so difficult to manage; I almost always pull it back tight to keep it contained.”

“Never,” he said absentmindedly as their hands touched.

“My lord?”

“Never again are you to contain that glorious hair of yours.”

Her breath hitched; he noticed, because the instant it happened his eyes darted to her parted lips. He leaned in, lightly inviting her mouth to taste his. She seemed unsure, frozen in place. He lifted her chin and ever so gently brushed a light kiss across her lips. If lightning would have struck him where he stood, he wouldn’t have been shocked, for the minute her innocent lips came into contact with his, he was a changed man.

An electric current hummed between their bodies. Without asking permission or thinking of their current situation, or the bet for that matter, he laid claim to her lips again. She didn’t push against him. Instead she sighed as he pressed his body against hers and used his tongue to part her lips further. Lust shot through him at alarming speed as Cordelia let out a sensual sigh, entangling her fingers into his hair. With a little tug, she had his complete devotion and attention. In fact, he was quite ready to ruin her and be done with it. Tentatively, she tasted him as he had her. At that moment the fires of Hades couldn’t have put a stop to his sensual exploration of her mouth. His hands slid down her waist memorizing every line of her body…