The Return of Lady Honoria by Jodi Henley

Chapter One
     
    Lady Honoria Cavanaugh saw her nemesis across
the crowded ballroom and immediately pictured him naked. He turned
to wave at her, the wretch—and made everyone in his vicinity
stare.
    Honoria had all the usual accoutrements,
birth, beauty and wealth. The one thing she didn’t have was the
ability to stare down a crowd and Danton knew it. In less than a
month, he'd ferreted out all her secrets. To give him credit, he
didn't talk about their solitary assignation or her sexual
peccadilloes, but if there was a phobia, weakness or quirk she'd
kept hidden from the ravenous attention of the Ton, she had to
assume he was holding it like a child contemplating a blueberry
comfit. It wasn't a matter of if he'd use it, but rather when it
would do the most damage.
    Gathering her composure, Honoria turned in
the opposite direction. Away from the ballroom the crowds thinned
leaving her aunt’s lavishly gilded corridors empty of prying eyes.
Honoria's reflection frowned back at her from hundreds of shiny
gold surfaces, reminding her that she'd been the one to follow
Danton to London and if she couldn't deal with his unfortunate
personality then it was better to know now, before their unorthodox
relationship went any further. Drat the man for being such a
stimulating companion. She couldn't remember actually talking to
anyone before he'd come into her life.
    She pushed into a deserted drawing room and
stood holding the latch, her gaze fixed on a tall armchair turned
toward the fire. One elegantly shod foot dangled over the carved
wooden armrest, kicking slowly.
    Both hands fisted at her sides while passion
rose to a screaming pitch. She lurched forward, fingers curled into
claws. “You told my father I was afraid of horses ?”
    Danton unrolled from his lounging position
and closed the distance between them. “If you're going to choke
me,” he said, politely, “you might want to raise your hands.” He
pulled her hands into place around his neck and fell to his knees,
gurgling.
    Honoria dropped him. “You forgot to stick
your tongue out.”
    “Did I?” He promptly stuck out his
tongue.
    “Blast it all, Danton. Have you been avoiding me?”
    Danton rolled over and held out his hand. “We
could have this conversation much more comfortably if you'd close
the door.”
    He looked different in the shifting darkness,
bigger and more dangerous, unlike the nondescript lord he presented
to the rest of the Ton. His fingers were dry, welcome heat and when
he pulled her down into his arms, she went willingly. Honoria could
feel the rapid thump of his heart against her chest. He held her
tightly, face buried in her hair and she held him back.
    “I missed you.”
    “It's very hard to stay mad at you when
you—”
    “Have such a large cock?” he inserted
brightly.
    “—are such an unrepentant wretch,” she told
him.
    His lips touched hers very gently. “I am a
smiling damned villain, Honoria. Never forget.”
    “I'm fully aware of your villainous nature,”
Honoria said. She kept her eyes open as their lips shifted and
watched the play of firelight across his face.
    “No,” he said bluntly. “You're not. But I
feel you deserve fair warning since it seems I can't stay away from
you.”
    Her palm flattened on his mouth and pushed.
“Villain!” she cried, using his self-appointed label. “Did you
try?”
    His tongue wrapped around her index finger,
eyes half-closed. “Don't screech, my dear. It ill becomes you.”
    Honoria swayed toward him, lips parted. “I
thought we were friends.”
    Danton pulled her finger from his mouth and
abruptly kissed her with very little of his usual panache. “There's
the rub. It'd be better for the both of us if we weren't. I am not
good to know, my dear.”
    “If you’re bad ton, I shall be dreadfully put
out.”
    “I have more entrée than you,” Danton said
bluntly. He got to his feet and picked up a heavy wooden chair.
    Honoria eyed it uneasily. “What are you doing
with