Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(11)

She had enjoyed it, enjoyed doing it because it was what he wanted, enjoyed the risk, the thrill—the pain. He’d seen her bite hard on her lip, but he’d also seen the pulse beating in her neck, seen the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. That had not been simply fear and excitement. That had been genuine desire.

And if there was one thing that Colton knew, it was how to judge a woman’s genuine desire.

Was it possible he’d been mistaken about her being just a lamb, possible that he had been right in the beginning about the spark within her?

Or was it all a trick? A way to win back what she had lost when he told her she had mistaken his interest?

Women could be masters of trickery.

But then his mind filled with the image of darkening pupils, of eyes wide with desire, of pale fingers pinching red nipples surrounded by milk-white flesh. His mouth grew dry. He shifted his weight, wishing his pants were looser. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be fleeing for a far different reason than a desire to escape Angela’s clutches. He might resist most social conventions, but there were some things, some stains, that could not be explained in polite company. It was a pity the full coats of the last century were not still in fashion.

—

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Angela.”

Angela turned as she entered the ballroom and smiled at her mother, hoping that she didn’t look as disorderly as her mind felt. “Yes, Mother. I was getting some air.”

“Well, it has put a lovely flush in your cheeks. I haven’t seen you look in such spirit since long before…Oh, but let’s not talk about that. Tonight is for dancing and fun—and I am sure that there must be several young men here you have not danced with. Perhaps one of them will catch your fancy. I’ve been worried that you’ve been locked in the doldrums for months. Tonight you look yourself.”

Well, she wasn’t sure that was true. She certainly didn’t feel quite like herself. Her whole body felt unsettled. No, not at all herself. “I was thinking I might see if you were ready to leave. I find myself quite exhausted, despite my appearance.”

“Your appearance. I was going to say something about that dress earlier, but you already looked nervous—although I am not sure why. It’s not as if this were your first ball.”

No, just her first ball at which she tried to seduce a man. “It has been a strange night. Should we head home?”

Her mother settled her hips squarely. “No. First you must dance another dance. Why don’t you see if Lord Penster will ask you? He always did sit a spirited horse.”

It would be useless to argue with her mother. And equally useless to try to persuade her that it was not up to the lady to decide with whom she danced. The gentleman had to ask. Although she did admit that her mother had a knack of choosing gentlemen who seemed all too eager for a partner. And why did she keep mentioning the type of horse a man preferred? If she didn’t know her mother so well, she might think that she was implying something crude about riding. Knowing her mother, however, that seemed impossible.

Now, if only she could convince herself that she did want to dance, that she was not all a-jitter and far too busy thinking about what had happened in the garden to even consider attracting another man—even just for a dance.

Still, what must be done must be done.





Chapter 4


“And then he simply disappeared. I did everything you said—and more. I was sure it was working. I could feel that he wanted me, just as you said I’d be able to, and then when I glanced away for a second he was gone.” Angela let out a long sigh and gazed across the laden tea tray at Ruby. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Ruby leaned forward and poured more tea into thin china cups.

Angela’s eyes dropped to Ruby’s full bosom. The madame was not even trying to draw attention to it, and her gown was not particularly low cut, but her every movement drew one’s glance. How did she do that? It was exactly what Angela needed to know how to do. She was sure that if she ever tried to bend over a table to flaunt her bosom, she’d either fall out of her bodice, exposing everything, or…

After last night, though, perhaps that wasn’t as frightening a thought as it had been. Despite the fact he had disappeared, there had been no mistaking Colton’s appreciation of her breasts. Maybe if she had let him see them a little sooner…

But, then again, he had disappeared. He might have been interested but not interested enough to…It had not always been that way. She used to be so sure of him, sure that he wanted her, sure of her own attraction, sure that he liked her, that he actually liked her—that he might even love her. And it was more than her body that he had liked. She tried to shake the memory of sitting in the parlor, laughing over some overly passionate love sonnet, or of the time she’d dared to read him a passage from her Minerva Press novel. He’d looked at her with his eyes full of laughter, but more than that, full of…

No. No. No.

That had been months ago.

Before he’d torn her affections to shreds.

And she must not let herself care now—at least not beyond the game. She only wanted to attract him so that she could trap him, make him want things he could not have. Once she had justice, then she would be happy. She must remember that. This was about justice, not desire.

Ruby leaned back, picked up her own cup of tea, and took a sip. “Are you ever going to finish one of those thoughts? Your expression is changing by the instant, and I can see your distraction. It is quite fascinating to watch, but you should probably stick to one train of thought if you want to plan what to do next. And besides, men are simple creatures and we do confuse them when we think about several things at once. They never seem able to follow how a new pair of shoes is related to a friend’s recent engagement and how peace with the French is connected to when dinner will be served. It is much easier to stick to one straight path when dealing with men.”