“Darling, are you feeling all right?” she asked, her voice strained.
He looked down at her, eyes glassy like dark pools reflecting distant starlight. When he didn’t answer, her heart picked up speed.
“Matteo?” she whispered, caressing the inside of his arm.
“I’m fine, mi amore,” he said, his voice as remote as the look in his eyes.
“He should be asking you that,” Gideon laughed.
Matteo looked up at him sharply.
“Old Lynton stepped all over her feet. It’s a good thing I already had a chance to take a turn with your lovely new wife.” He leaned in as he said it, smiling at Isobel warmly.
Under her hand, Matteo stiffened and from the corner of her eye she saw his aura flare.
No, no, no!
How could she not have realized? She’d been so stupid. Normal socializing was taxing enough for Matteo, but a ball? A place where other men not only spoke to her, but also touched her. And she was obliged to let them as they partnered her on the dance floor.
Gideon kept up a steady stream of small talk, apparently not noticing that Matteo had essentially withdrawn from him and the rest of the company. She was trying to decide what to do when another man, a viscount this time, came up to their party to request a dance.
The flare-up of black next to her was startling in its intensity, and underneath her fingers she could feel him growing colder.
It must have been worse that her admirer was young and attractive. Looking up, she gave the balcony door a longing glance, ignoring the Conte’s nod of approval of the viscount as an acceptable dance partner. She closed and opened her mouth, trying to come up with an appropriate excuse when rescue came from an unexpected source.
“Sorry, Berkeley, my cousin-in-law can’t oblige you right now. She’s still fatigued from her last dance,” Gideon said with a smile, digging in an elbow into the viscount’s side and mouthing Lynton.
“Oh.” Viscount Berkeley laughed. “Perhaps later then,” he said before launching into a conversation with Gideon about the last sale at Tattersalls.
She murmured something noncommittal and turned to Matteo. “My lord, I’m a bit overheated from all this excitement. Could we take a breath of fresh air outside?”
Without waiting for an answer she tugged on his arm and led him away. Thankfully, he followed. She smiled, making polite excuses to the assembled group as they headed to the balcony. Once there, she immediately changed her mind.
Despite the coolness of the night, enough people were outside to make a stroll in the gardens inadvisable. She hailed a passing footman and asked if there was a room where they could have a little privacy.
Flustered by her boldness, the servant directed her to the empty library on the ground floor. Trying to appear sanguine and composed, she hurried into the darkened room, pulling Matteo in after her.
He turned her around, his grip tight, before she could find a taper to light. There was, however, enough moonlight filtering through the glass doors leading to the garden to make out most of the room, including the man in front of her and his intense expression.
“Did Lynton hurt you?” Matteo asked, his voice reverberating with that strange oscillation she’d grown to fear.
But this was not about her feelings. It was about distracting the demon from harmful intent.
“No!” She assured him hastily. Her fingers trembled as she reached up to stroke his face. “I just wanted to be alone with you,” she whispered, tugging on his cravat to pull him down for a kiss.
That was all it took.
Matteo’s arms wrapped around her, his hands rough and searching. His mouth aggressively plundered hers as they stood there in near darkness. Yanking down her sleeves he exposed her breasts and she gasped, wondering what she had done.
His hands cupped her before he bent and his mouth closed over one rapidly hardening peak.
She began to have trouble standing as he sucked hard on one breast and then the other, his tongue leaving a trail between them. She was about to put her hands around his neck when she heard it, that distinctive purring growl no normal man would ever make.
Her entire body clenched in both fear and arousal.
“My lord?” she asked apprehensively.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted and carried her deeper into the room. There was no couch in the library, only armchairs, so he set her down on a sturdy looking waist high cabinet in the far corner just outside the light of the glass doors.
Breath a little ragged, she tentatively opened her arms as he pulled her to him. Closing a fist in her hair, he tugged her head to the side, exposing her neck so his mouth could work its way down to her breast. His other hand moved under her skirt, tugging it upward before pushing her legs open.