Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)

Lily was a sensual woman. Julian had always been exquisitely aware of it. Now he’d made her exquisitely aware of it. That awareness should have been a good thing, when properly directed toward eligible suitors who might make suitable husbands. But instead of placing her in company with those sorts of gentlemen, he’d brought her alone to the theater. And now to dinner in a seedy alehouse, amidst a clientele that was growing rougher by the minute.

He was an idiot. He needed to get her out of here. Just as soon as he managed to swallow this damned piece of steak. Bloody hell. Had the beast been raised on India rubber? His eyes watered as he furiously chewed.

“You can’t do that,” he managed to croak around the remainder of his bite, shaking his head for emphasis.

“I don’t believe I asked your permission.” She propped her chin on her hand and gave him a coy smile. “What’s the matter? Don’t you think gentlemen will find me attractive enough?”

He rolled his eyes and reached for his ale. She knew very well that wasn’t his objection.

She looked at him through lush, lowered lashes. Her wine-stained lips made a silky, sulky pout. “God only gives us one life, Julian. From this point forward, I intend to make the most of every minute.”

With a long draught of ale, he washed down the last of the steak. Finally.

“Good Lord,” he said, slamming the mug to the table. Empowerment be damned, he was taking control. “First, no more wine for you. Second, you are not taking a lover. Third, fix that cloak. We’re leaving. Now.”

But she hadn’t understood him. Her attention had turned. To the wall, of all things.

“Do you feel that?” she said, placing her hand to the flat surface. “It’s music, isn’t it?”

He nodded. It was music, emanating from the establishment next door. The fiddling had begun some time ago, but the intensity and volume had suddenly increased. Now a thunder of footfalls joined the instruments, rattling the silver on their plates.

“Dancing,” she said, lighting up with surprise. “They’re dancing.” She looked to him, all but leaping from her seat. “Let’s go.”

Once again, she fled before he could argue against the wisdom of such an activity. Swearing to himself, Julian threw a few coins on the table and gave chase. He followed as she dashed into the street and hurried on to the next shopfront. He caught her by the waist.

“Lily, no. We’re not dancing here.”

“Can’t you see?” she said brightly, staring past him into the tavern. “It’s the same country dance. The one you tried to teach me earlier.”

Julian followed her gaze. Inside, a dozen couples lined the narrow floor, stomping and twirling and clapping as they danced a lively pattern. It was indeed the same country dance they’d tried—and failed—to work through in the drawing room.

“I can feel it, Julian.” She placed her hand to the windowpane, which shivered in time to the beat. “The rhythm’s bouncing all through my bones. You have to let me try.”

“This is no place for a lady.”

“No one knows I’m a lady.”

She grasped his hand and tugged, catching him off-balance. His boot skidded on the damp cobblestone of the lane, and he stumbled to regain his footing without losing her hand. By the time Julian stood solidly upright again, they were inside. Dancing.

And Lily danced beautifully. Just as he’d predicted during their practice session, she had a much easier time following the steps with ladies lined up beside her. They joined the dance at the end of the line, and Lily threw back the hood of her cloak. She watched the other dancers carefully, taking her cues from them and copying their movements. Which allowed Julian to stare openly at her. He loved watching her unabashed enjoyment, almost as much as he admired the fearless spirit with which she embraced the challenge. When she made the inevitable misstep, she made a breathless, laughing apology to the green-clad man at her corner—and Julian could tell, that green-clad man would be delighted for Lily to tromp on his boots all night. In fact, he could sense every man in the room strategizing how to engage her for the next dance.

But when the music stopped, Lily gave them no opportunity. She flew to Julian’s side, as if she belonged to him. Meaningless as the gesture was, it swelled him with triumphant pride.

She pressed against him, panting for breath. “There now. Did I do well?”

“You were magnificent.”

A look of satisfaction graced her face. A bright flush painted her cheeks and her brow glistened with perspiration. “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.”

“Neither can I.” And what a surprise that was. He’d promised Holling that Lily would enjoy tonight, but what Julian hadn’t realized was how much he would enjoy it, too. While they were dancing, he’d felt almost … carefree. He couldn’t recall that word describing his emotional state, ever.

And God, she was so beautiful. He wanted to touch her so damn badly. He compromised by reaching up to tease an errant curl. The ringlet gave a voluptuous, undulating bounce. Her gaze softened, and her mouth … her mouth was the shape of a kiss. Not a chaste pucker, but a lush, pouting kiss a man could sink into for days.

The moment slowed. Stilled.

Shattered.