Anne Stuart by To Love a Dark Lord Page A

knew women very well indeed, and there was no real sensuality in her practiced gaze, no lush longing in her full lips. She had as much honest interest in the delights of the flesh as she had in the agriculture tomes which he used to ignore her, and he was almost tempted to take up the challenge. The men she had bedded were legion, including most of his acquaintances and those who were misguided enough to call themselves his friend. None of them seemed to have noticed she was playing a game. A game he wasn’t particularly interested in learning.
    Ah, but young Nathaniel made it so much more interesting. When he looked at Lady Barbara with all the fierce passion that Killoran doubted he’d ever felt in his entire, jaded life, Nathaniel even managed to startle such a practiced flirt. She tried to keep away from him, albeit subtly, which amused Killoran greatly. Young Hepburn, studiously correct in all of his dealings, made the manipulative Lady Barbara extremely nervous. It was enough to cause Killoran to tolerate both of them.
    “ They’re a family of cits,” Lady Barbara said, rising and drifting toward him. It was half past four of a Friday afternoon. Lady Barbara had arrived for lunch, and despite Killoran’s complete lack of hospitality, she had refused to leave. “One of their spotty young sons kept sending me flowers.” She shuddered extravagantly.
    “ Not that you aren’t deserving of all floral tributes,” Killoran said idly, “but why?”
    “ You’ve never sent me flowers,” she said in a surprisingly soft voice.
    “ You aren’t interested in flowers from me, my sweet,” he replied.
    Her smile was bright, bold, never reaching her china-blue eyes. “True enough. And the young man was most appreciative of my charms. He would watch me from his bedroom window. It looked directly into mine.”
    “ Fascinating,” he remarked. “And did you do anything to merit his adoration?”
    “ The poor lad was so furtive about it. Always snuffing the light and lurking just out of sight, but I could see him from behind the awful lace curtains with which his mother festoons everything. Night after night he would watch, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. I thought such devotion deserved some reward.”
    “ I’m certain you did.”
    “ In a way, I’m afraid it might have provoked the current contretemps.”
    “ I’m expecting you to amuse me with the eventual conclusion of this convoluted tale,” Killoran murmured. “Or I shall return to my agriculture text.”
    She crossed the room to the settee beside him, perching close to him on her knees. Her dress was far too low-cut for day wear, exposing her small, undeniably lovely breasts, and she smelled like violets. He’d never cared for violets. “For a week, Killoran, I had my maid undress me in front of that window. I always left the candles brightly burning, and I made certain Clothilde stood behind me so as not to obstruct the boy’s view.” She sighed. “Wicked of me, wasn’t it?”
    “ Indeed,” he said. “Though not unexpected.”
    “ You never find wickedness unexpected, Killoran. That’s why I find you so interesting. I did it for a week. And then I stopped, abruptly. The poor boy would never leave his room. He was distraught, waiting for one more chance to view me. I have quite a lovely body, you know, Killoran. Many men have told me so.”
    “ I’ve seen it,” he said blandly.
    “ But you haven’t taken it.”
    He smiled into the lost depths of her eyes. “Finish your tale, Scheherazade.”
    “ I decided to watch him. I was much more adept than he was, and he had no idea I would come up in the darkness and sit behind my curtains. He had a very strong body. A spotty face, but that wasn’t visible across the mews.”
    “ You are a lustful wench,” he said dryly, knowing it to be a lie. “I trust you enjoyed yourself.”
    She smiled, running her tongue over her full lips in a gesture as practiced as it was meaningless. “This