partner
stepped up to collect her.
The viscount
was right; it was a sad crush, and Katherine had never had such a wonderful time.
She loved to dance, and did not lack for eager partners. As the evening
progressed, though, it became increasingly warm and stuffy in the huge room,
and her feet in their thin rose slippers began to ache.
"I believe
this is my dance?" a voice said right in her ear, and she jumped.
Francis DuPres
held out his hand, and with an apology to Lady Alison she stepped away from the
chairs bordering the room and walked out onto the floor. He was only a
tolerable dancer, and Reg's comment about whose toes would be stepped on came
to mind. When halfway through the waltz he suggested they step out onto the
balcony to get some air, Kate thankfully accepted. The night was dark and
shadowy after the brightly lit ballroom, and it was blessedly cool. She
breathed deeply and sighed, brushing her fingers over the petals of the summer
bouquet that filled the blue vase beside her. A dozen more evenly spaced vases
covered the length of the stonework railing.
"You are
lovely, Kate," DuPres murmured from her side, and he reached over to
finger the frothy material at her wrist before he slid his hand down over hers,
were it rested on the balcony.
She removed it
quickly. ''Thank you, Mr. DuPres," she said stiffly, abruptly realizing
that she should not have left the room with him.
"Francis,"
he corrected, moving over smoothly to block her path as she retreated.
"Don't go; we haven't had a chance to become acquainted."
They were
already acquainted better than she would have liked. "Excuse me," she
grated, and started to walk around him.
He grabbed her
hand and pulled her up against him. "Come now, Kate, you should be more
friendly," he murmured, leaning closer.
She shoved at
him, but he was stronger than she. "Let go," she commanded, angry.
"Not until
I claim my prize," he insisted, and yanked her closer still.
His other hand
reached up to grab the back of her neck and pull her head forward. His lips
touched her cheek, seeking her mouth. Very angry and very frightened, Kate shut
her eyes and at the same time lifted her knee. Hard.
An explosion of
hot breath blasted her face as DuPres doubled over. Before he could straighten
again, something yanked him backward onto the hard stone. A figure clothed all
in black hauled DuPres back to his feet, and then dragged him over to where
Katherine stood.
"Apologize
to Miss Ralston," came the quiet voice of Nicholas Varon. Even in the dim
light it was clear that the Black Duke was furious.
"I'Il kill
you for this, Sommesby," DuPres wheezed, still half doubled over.
The duke shook
him by the collar and shoved him away. "Apologize, or you can try it at
dawn with pistols," Nicholas said, even more quietly than before.
Nicholas Varon
was not the only one who was angry. Now that she had gotten over the initial
shock of the assault, Kate was furious. This was her battle, and she didn't
need the Black Duke to fight it for her. As DuPres faced Sornmesby, she stepped
sideways, grabbed one of the pretty blue vases, and raised it over her head.
"Don't touch me again, you cad," she said with a growl, and dashed
the vase against the side of his head. It shattered, water and . flowers and
pieces of porcelain going everywhere, and with a grunt Francis DuPres collapsed
among the debris.
Sommesby took a
step backward his eyes on DuPres. After a moment he looked up at her, his
expression one of stunned surprise, then glanced down and flicked a piece of
daisy off his lapel. When he raised his head again, his eyes were dancing.
"Well done, Miss Ralston," he murmured.
Breathing hard,
Kate unclenched her hands and sagged back against the railing. DuPres remained
slumped on the stone where he had fallen. "Oh, my," she whispered, beginning
to realize exactly what she had done.
The duke
stepped over the mess to steady her with both hands on her shoulders. "Are
you all right?"
"I'm
trying to
stepped up to collect her.
The viscount
was right; it was a sad crush, and Katherine had never had such a wonderful time.
She loved to dance, and did not lack for eager partners. As the evening
progressed, though, it became increasingly warm and stuffy in the huge room,
and her feet in their thin rose slippers began to ache.
"I believe
this is my dance?" a voice said right in her ear, and she jumped.
Francis DuPres
held out his hand, and with an apology to Lady Alison she stepped away from the
chairs bordering the room and walked out onto the floor. He was only a
tolerable dancer, and Reg's comment about whose toes would be stepped on came
to mind. When halfway through the waltz he suggested they step out onto the
balcony to get some air, Kate thankfully accepted. The night was dark and
shadowy after the brightly lit ballroom, and it was blessedly cool. She
breathed deeply and sighed, brushing her fingers over the petals of the summer
bouquet that filled the blue vase beside her. A dozen more evenly spaced vases
covered the length of the stonework railing.
"You are
lovely, Kate," DuPres murmured from her side, and he reached over to
finger the frothy material at her wrist before he slid his hand down over hers,
were it rested on the balcony.
She removed it
quickly. ''Thank you, Mr. DuPres," she said stiffly, abruptly realizing
that she should not have left the room with him.
"Francis,"
he corrected, moving over smoothly to block her path as she retreated.
"Don't go; we haven't had a chance to become acquainted."
They were
already acquainted better than she would have liked. "Excuse me," she
grated, and started to walk around him.
He grabbed her
hand and pulled her up against him. "Come now, Kate, you should be more
friendly," he murmured, leaning closer.
She shoved at
him, but he was stronger than she. "Let go," she commanded, angry.
"Not until
I claim my prize," he insisted, and yanked her closer still.
His other hand
reached up to grab the back of her neck and pull her head forward. His lips
touched her cheek, seeking her mouth. Very angry and very frightened, Kate shut
her eyes and at the same time lifted her knee. Hard.
An explosion of
hot breath blasted her face as DuPres doubled over. Before he could straighten
again, something yanked him backward onto the hard stone. A figure clothed all
in black hauled DuPres back to his feet, and then dragged him over to where
Katherine stood.
"Apologize
to Miss Ralston," came the quiet voice of Nicholas Varon. Even in the dim
light it was clear that the Black Duke was furious.
"I'Il kill
you for this, Sommesby," DuPres wheezed, still half doubled over.
The duke shook
him by the collar and shoved him away. "Apologize, or you can try it at
dawn with pistols," Nicholas said, even more quietly than before.
Nicholas Varon
was not the only one who was angry. Now that she had gotten over the initial
shock of the assault, Kate was furious. This was her battle, and she didn't
need the Black Duke to fight it for her. As DuPres faced Sornmesby, she stepped
sideways, grabbed one of the pretty blue vases, and raised it over her head.
"Don't touch me again, you cad," she said with a growl, and dashed
the vase against the side of his head. It shattered, water and . flowers and
pieces of porcelain going everywhere, and with a grunt Francis DuPres collapsed
among the debris.
Sommesby took a
step backward his eyes on DuPres. After a moment he looked up at her, his
expression one of stunned surprise, then glanced down and flicked a piece of
daisy off his lapel. When he raised his head again, his eyes were dancing.
"Well done, Miss Ralston," he murmured.
Breathing hard,
Kate unclenched her hands and sagged back against the railing. DuPres remained
slumped on the stone where he had fallen. "Oh, my," she whispered, beginning
to realize exactly what she had done.
The duke
stepped over the mess to steady her with both hands on her shoulders. "Are
you all right?"
"I'm
trying to
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