of his white, high-collared shirt looked immaculate.
But his eyes… Oh, have mercy. His eyes were mesmerizing. An almost black gaze watched me with unreadable expression, and long black lashes highlighting the almond shape of his eyes. His skin was more olive than pale, and his cheekbones were as strong as his cleft chin. His hair was perfectly tousled, looking like a woman had just ran her hands through it. I wondered what it felt like. There was no five-o'clock shadow, but he looked like the type who would have one. His steps were full of purpose. His eyes were focused just beyond me. I turned to follow his gaze and noticed Amelia glaring at the gentlemen, her hostility towards him was like a frigid wind. Curious, I glanced back to the gentleman, and his gaze met mine. He offered me a charming grin, but his attention was immediately taken hostage by Amelia. I watched the interchanged with rapt attention, yet when he approached, it was me he spoke to.
"Miss Westin," the man crooned.
"Yes?"
"May I have honor of the next waltz?"
Glancing over toward Amelia, I waited for some sort of cue as to what I should do. Did I need permission to waltz? Did I already have permission? Help! But Amelia wasn't even looking at me anymore. She was studiously ignoring Lord Rake. On my own, I guess. Ok, I'll wing it.
"Do you think that is a good idea, my lord?" I asked, trying to gauge his response hoping for a clue.
"Waltzing is always a good idea." His voice was like melted chocolate, and I wondered if he practiced speaking like that.
"If you insist," I replied, hoping it was the right answer.
"Believe me, I do," he whispered as he leaned forward slightly. His words were like a caress. He was everything I imagined the rakes in the books I’d read to be. The perfect combination of forbidden fruit with dark chocolate, yet as much as it was alluring to behold, it was clear he played the game. No doubt well. He strutted off with a lazy swagger, and I wondered why he had spoken with me, when his eyes had greedily devoured Amelia. And why did he ask me to dance? I wanted to kick Amelia for leaving me high and dry.
"So who is Lord Rake, and why the ice queen?" I asked in a hushed tone once we were alone.
"Who?" Amelia asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
"Lord Rake, with the melting chocolate voice and devastating looks. The one you could have frozen with your eyes?" I offered, wanting desperately to place my hand on my hip. But I resisted the temptation.
"Oh, him," she replied, unaffected by my sarcasm.
"Yes, and by the way you were no help! What was I supposed to do? Did I do the right thing? I was drowning a second ago!"
"I'm sorry, I forgot. You've always handled him fine in the past. I didn't see why you'd have an issue now. And yes, you handled him fine. Just don't." She gave me a stern stare. "Don't fall for the charm. He's a rake of the first order, and he is up to no good."
I felt scolded. Didn't she say I'd handled it correctly? At least the next dance was not a waltz, and so far no one had asked me to dance this one.
"She's right you know," said an unnatural falsetto voice behind me. Turning I saw a man — well, that might be a little strong. The term "metrosexual" would be a closer match. He was dressed in grape-colored trousers, high heels, and a bright green satin jacket accented with a yellow cravat. Lace gloves covered his hands, and he wore the oddest makeup I'd even seen short of a child getting into his mother's by accident. I openly stared, trying to remember if I'd read about this type of fashion statement in any of my books.
"You need to stay away from him, Jocelyn. He's nothing but trouble. Beautiful, masculine, heart-stopping trouble. But don't let it fool you. He's broken more hearts than I have heels."
He glanced over at my slack-jawed appraisal. "A pox on it all! It's true, isn't it? You don't know who I am, do you?"
Amelia answered for me. "Nope, not a clue, Reg. She's a clean slate as far as names, but
But his eyes… Oh, have mercy. His eyes were mesmerizing. An almost black gaze watched me with unreadable expression, and long black lashes highlighting the almond shape of his eyes. His skin was more olive than pale, and his cheekbones were as strong as his cleft chin. His hair was perfectly tousled, looking like a woman had just ran her hands through it. I wondered what it felt like. There was no five-o'clock shadow, but he looked like the type who would have one. His steps were full of purpose. His eyes were focused just beyond me. I turned to follow his gaze and noticed Amelia glaring at the gentlemen, her hostility towards him was like a frigid wind. Curious, I glanced back to the gentleman, and his gaze met mine. He offered me a charming grin, but his attention was immediately taken hostage by Amelia. I watched the interchanged with rapt attention, yet when he approached, it was me he spoke to.
"Miss Westin," the man crooned.
"Yes?"
"May I have honor of the next waltz?"
Glancing over toward Amelia, I waited for some sort of cue as to what I should do. Did I need permission to waltz? Did I already have permission? Help! But Amelia wasn't even looking at me anymore. She was studiously ignoring Lord Rake. On my own, I guess. Ok, I'll wing it.
"Do you think that is a good idea, my lord?" I asked, trying to gauge his response hoping for a clue.
"Waltzing is always a good idea." His voice was like melted chocolate, and I wondered if he practiced speaking like that.
"If you insist," I replied, hoping it was the right answer.
"Believe me, I do," he whispered as he leaned forward slightly. His words were like a caress. He was everything I imagined the rakes in the books I’d read to be. The perfect combination of forbidden fruit with dark chocolate, yet as much as it was alluring to behold, it was clear he played the game. No doubt well. He strutted off with a lazy swagger, and I wondered why he had spoken with me, when his eyes had greedily devoured Amelia. And why did he ask me to dance? I wanted to kick Amelia for leaving me high and dry.
"So who is Lord Rake, and why the ice queen?" I asked in a hushed tone once we were alone.
"Who?" Amelia asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
"Lord Rake, with the melting chocolate voice and devastating looks. The one you could have frozen with your eyes?" I offered, wanting desperately to place my hand on my hip. But I resisted the temptation.
"Oh, him," she replied, unaffected by my sarcasm.
"Yes, and by the way you were no help! What was I supposed to do? Did I do the right thing? I was drowning a second ago!"
"I'm sorry, I forgot. You've always handled him fine in the past. I didn't see why you'd have an issue now. And yes, you handled him fine. Just don't." She gave me a stern stare. "Don't fall for the charm. He's a rake of the first order, and he is up to no good."
I felt scolded. Didn't she say I'd handled it correctly? At least the next dance was not a waltz, and so far no one had asked me to dance this one.
"She's right you know," said an unnatural falsetto voice behind me. Turning I saw a man — well, that might be a little strong. The term "metrosexual" would be a closer match. He was dressed in grape-colored trousers, high heels, and a bright green satin jacket accented with a yellow cravat. Lace gloves covered his hands, and he wore the oddest makeup I'd even seen short of a child getting into his mother's by accident. I openly stared, trying to remember if I'd read about this type of fashion statement in any of my books.
"You need to stay away from him, Jocelyn. He's nothing but trouble. Beautiful, masculine, heart-stopping trouble. But don't let it fool you. He's broken more hearts than I have heels."
He glanced over at my slack-jawed appraisal. "A pox on it all! It's true, isn't it? You don't know who I am, do you?"
Amelia answered for me. "Nope, not a clue, Reg. She's a clean slate as far as names, but
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