Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(8)

And she certainly wasn’t marrying him—not that she thought he’d risk rejection again. One of her refusals was normally enough. And besides, she might have the expectations of a small fortune and one priceless pearl necklace, but from what she understood Temple needed enough funds to purchase a small country if he were ever to free himself from debt. And while he might sometimes give tingles, they were most definitely the most unpleasant of tingles, not at all like…No, she was not thinking about him. She would stop her thoughts at the fact that Lord Temple was definitely not the man for her.



It was a pity she hadn’t paid more attention to Lord Paul when she asked him to dance. He was very pleasant and had a wonderful sense of humor. He always managed to make her laugh, at least when she actually bothered to listen to what he had to say. Granted, he was a little young. He might even be a year or so younger than her. But did that really matter? Surely that just meant he was trainable and if she was going to have a husband, having one who knew what she wanted and followed her direction might not be a bad idea. And he didn’t make her tingle at all. She might have many desires to explore those tingles, but she was sure she did not wish to share them with a husband. No, definitely not with a husband. Her emotions might follow those tingles and she definitely didn’t wish that with a husband. Perhaps she would take a lover; with a lover those tingles might just be safe. Or not. But that was a decision for the future. Right now she needed to find a husband, a husband who would be agreeable, but not demanding, a husband she could care for but never lo—

She cut the thought off.

So, Lord Paul?



No, not a bad idea at all.

Slipping away from Lord Temple as the dance ended, trying not to gasp at his final hard pinch upon her behind, she peered about the ballroom looking for Lord Paul. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her lack of interest earlier, but given his intense focus on her bosom she doubted he’d noticed much else.

Bosom. Men did like bosoms. Should she have her gowns lowered? She’d never paid that much attention to her bodices, as they didn’t affect her dancing unless they were much too tight, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to show a little more flesh.

She glanced down at herself. There was only the faintest curve of flesh visible above the deep pink silk, not even a hint of the valley between her breasts. Quickly she glanced about the room and then back down at herself. She was wearing one of the most modest dresses in the whole room—and yet Lady Perse had seen fit to look upon it with contempt. Anger began to rise in her stomach, pushing away the pile of stones.

Why were people always so ready to condemn her? For as long as she could remember it felt like everyone about her had been waiting for her to make mistakes. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born a Danser.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

She glanced down at her breasts again. They did rise from her gown a little bit when she did that. Maybe if she found Lord Paul, she would practice breathing. It would be interesting to see if his gaze became even more focused if she let her breasts swell above the lace of her gown—even if only the scantest quarter inch more of flesh was revealed.



Hmmm, what if she pulled the waist down a bit? That might help. If she was going to find a husband she needed all the tools she possessed.

Definitely better. The gown might be only a little lower, but it was definitely beginning to hint at more.

And then she felt it, that tingle along her spine, the sudden tightening of her belly that forced all the rocks out.

Blast.

There was only one thing that caused that sudden shiver, that sudden breathlessness.

He was here.

Already knowing what she’d see, Bliss lifted her face from staring at her bosom and turned to stare into the darker corners of the ballroom.

There he was, a good two inches taller than any of the men surrounding him.

Stephan Andrew James Perth, Earl of Duldon.

He had the strangest look on his face. Why was he staring at her that way, looking almost perplexed? She frequently caught him watching her, but never with quite that expression.

A slow tide of crimson rose up from her toes. He’d been watching her stare at her breasts.

She swallowed and met his glower, ignoring the tightening of those blasted breasts. She didn’t care if he looked disapproving, she didn’t.

They were far enough apart that it should not have been possible for her to meet his gaze, but it caught and held. Her feet shifted on the smooth floor, her fists tightened by her side.



Yes, she’d been staring down her own dress in the middle of a ballroom, but did he have to look so disdainful, so, so…She didn’t even have the words to describe how he made her feel. Why him? Why did it always have to be him?

Her head turned away slightly, but her eyes still held with his. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. She’d never been able to. From the time she’d been a little girl Duldon had held her attention no matter where she was, what she was doing.

Well, if she couldn’t fight it…She turned back to him and narrowed her eyes, attempting her own look of intimidation. It was best to make it clear now, right from the start, that she didn’t care what he thought, what he wanted.

She was not going to agree to marriage with such a man, not now, not ever.

—

What was Bliss thinking now? Normally he could read her every expression, but as her eyes flashed and stared across the great room at him Duldon found himself at a loss. It had been easier to understand her moments before when she stared down at her bodice. He’d felt himself harden at that small glance, at that small acknowledgment that she understood her own desirability. He’d watched her consider, watched her gaze about the room at the other ladies and then give her dress a little yank. His whole body had felt that yank. He’d been undecided as to whether to cheer her on or drape his coat about her. He was more than eager to see more of her charms, had wondered for years at the mistaken modesty of her apparel, but now the thought of another man seeing the glory that was meant only for him had his lips pursing.