Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
• • •
London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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Maeve would probably need a few weeks before she could see a piano without blushing profusely. What they'd done during the garden party lingered in her mind for days afterwards. Not only was she cherishing the memory of their shared intimacy, but she was also dearly attached to the truth that had been revealed.
Lucian's devotion couldn't be doubted anymore, as he'd made abundantly clear that she was the one and only woman on his mind. She was the only one he desired, the only one he wanted. And although it wasn't a profession of love, it was an important fact that satisfied Maeve beyond words.
She had officially seen him twice since that day, and three more times unofficially. Once at his house, and the rest in her room. Miraculously, her parents hadn't wondered why suddenly she was accompanying them at every event, instead of once a week. Maybe they hadn't even noticed, but if they had, they hadn't said a thing.
Tonight, they were attending a welcome back party, dedicated to a few officers from the recently won Napoleonic war. Lucian was here too, of course. For the occasion, he was wearing his uniform, and Maeve suddenly understood why some women were obsessed with military men. He was simply irresistible. The red and black jacket, with the row of golden buttons all the way up to his throat, and the golden epaulets that made him look even more imposing than usual. The impeccable white pants, with the black, knee-high boots, hid nothing of his muscular thighs, or the bump at his crotch. At his chest, on the left, an impressive row of medals was pinned, and she couldn't help but feel proud. He was her man. This dashing war hero was hers, and she was his.
Tonight, most of all, she had to keep away from him. There weren't many guests, the party was quite exclusive, and her parents were here, along with plenty of Lucian's acquaintances. She feared if they disappeared together, even for five minutes, someone might take notice. No, she would have to be patient and wait for Lucian to come to her tonight, as planned. Then, she would take her time, removing the buttons of his jacket one by one, and undressing the rest of him, to personally thank him for his service as any war hero deserved. Actually, maybe he could keep parts of the uniform.
Feeling a sudden burst of heat, Maeve fanned herself with her hand and turned back her attention to her sister. Even though she was engaged, Ailia's eyes were constantly drawn to the attractive officers that surrounded them. Yes, military men were quite a thing.
She looked at her very own officer, who was talking to the Duke of Wellington, the man of the hour, the one who had defeated Napoleon. Both the Field Marshall and Lucian turned to look at her, and she wondered, mortified, if they were talking about her. When she saw them walking toward her, she panicked, wondering what Lucian had told the man.
As they came closer, Maeve elbowed Ailia, to get her attention. Soon enough, both men were in front of them, and Lucian smiled. "Ladies, allow me to introduce you to Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, the Field Marshal who subdued the French Emperor. My friend, these are Lady Ailia Langston, and Lady Maeve Langston, the daughters of the Duke of Leeds." The twins curtsied, and the duke bowed.
