Enchanted by Your Kisses by Pamela Britton Page A

though he hadn't been immersed in its customs and culture, his manners were as impeccable as any of the men she'd seen here tonight. He dressed more elegantly, too. He wore a dark gray coat, a light yellow waistcoat and elegant beige silk breeches. Once again he wore no wig, but the lack of false hair only made him stand out more. She felt dowdy by comparison, like a vicar's daughter, and suddenly as naively tongue-tied as well. She resisted the urge to fiddle with the single gray curl that dangled from the back of her wig, especially when he turned to her.
    "You look beautiful tonight, Ariel."
    Once again, the couple turned, Ariel knowing they were probably scandalized by his use of her Christian name. But she didn't care. Suddenly she didn't care about anything. The way he looked at her with those wonderful eyes—gracious, it took her breath away. And the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. . .wicked.
    Careful, Ariel, 'tis but an act.
    Oh, but what an actor he was. And from nowhere came the wish that it wasn't an act, that a man could look at her as he looked at her and actually mean it. She bowed her head, so confused by the feelings coursing through her that she could barely think, much less converse. Thankfully, her cousin took matters into her own hands.
    "I confess myself relieved to see you here tonight, sir." Ariel realized her cousin had gotten herself under control. Her face was filled with friendly interest as she said, "We could use some male company, I fear."
    "Can you?" he asked, but it was to Ariel that he addressed the question. When once again she stared up at him, she saw a twinkle come into his eyes. "But of course, where else would I be but by my fiancée's side?"
    Someone gasped; Ariel didn't know who. And with those simple words it was done. Word would now spread throughout the ballroom like fire. It would begin with a murmur here, a word there, the result being everyone would know she'd become engaged to Mr. Nathan Trevain , heir to the dukedom of Davenport, by night's end.
    She could hardly wait.
    "Take my arm," Trevain ordered. They stepped forward, Ariel realizing they were about to be announced. The ballroom spread out before them like a sea of moving color. People stood around the edge of the dance floor, eyeing them. She saw eyes widen. What an odd couple they must look, she thought. A misfit and a rake. Yet she held herself proudly and when their names were announced, stepped gracefully into the room, lifting her skirts elegantly as she moved. And as people stared her up and down, never was she more grateful for a man's presence. He may not have had a perfect face, but at that moment he was the most beautiful man she knew. His arm felt solid, his presence so commanding that for the first time since rejoining society she felt more in control.
    "Shall we dance?" he asked her, just as he had the night before, his look a polite question.
    "We should probably wait for Phoebe."
    "Your cousin will not mind our dancing one dance."
    Yes, Phoebe would, but he gave her no time to argue. Shooting Phoebe an apologetic glance, she allowed him to lead her toward the dance floor. He'd placed her hand on his arm, his ring catching the light. A serpentine, he'd called it, but she knew that was wrong. A serpentine was all green, like a snake, hence the name, whereas this stone had those spots of red in it. Like the skin of a poisonous snake or blood.
    She stiffened. That was it! A bloodstone. That was what the gem was called. She felt sure of it, even thought about telling him, but he spun her around to face him, making her momentarily breathless. The dance was already in progress, but he didn't seem to care. He led her into position, the feel of his hand holding hers more pleasurable than she would have liked. With his body so near she could feel the heat radiate off it, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. She looked up at him. ' Twas no country dance. This was a French dance, one that kept