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.
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London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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Lucian had just arrived with Delawney, and his friend was talking to an acquaintance in the hallway. He had decided to leave him behind and had entered the ballroom where the guests had amassed.
Eager to find her, he'd recognized Lady Langston before even glimpsing at her face. She was wearing a dress with dark tones, which singled her out from the crowd. It was unusual for a young, unmarried woman to wear such colors, but he had to admit it suited her.
Close to the entrance, she was standing with her back to him, the delicate slope of her neck stretched up as she tried to find someone in the crowd. From afar, he admired the enticing curve of her stretched neck. Lucian was tempted to graze the skin where her throat joined her shoulder, wondering how soft it must feel under his rough fingertips. He watched as said shoulders lowered in disappointment when she didn't find whoever she was looking for.
Deciding that tonight was as good as any to set his new plan in motion, he willed his feet to take him to her. He hadn't bothered to take his cane, as his knee hadn't been hurting for a few days now, so his approach was unusually discreet. When he reached his destination, her flowery smell, now familiar, filled his nostrils. Bending slightly, he spoke to her in a low voice.
"Good evening, swan."
She jumped, surprised, and turned instantly. Her eyes met his, and her cheeks reddened a little. He was still close to her, and she stared at him, tongue-tied. Just like that, he knew she had been reliving, again and again, their exchange at Hyde Park. Exactly like he had.
Her gorgeous features finally regained their composure, and she took a step away from him, setting some acceptable distance between them. "Good evening, my lord." Looking to his right, something lit up in her eyes and a smile arched her lips. "Mr. Delawney, always a pleasure."
"The pleasure is all mine," answered the man, taking the hand she was extending before kissing it.
Lucian gritted his teeth, suddenly feeling like the third wheel. Before he could impose himself, Delawney offered his arm, and Lady Langston took it. The ginger started talking to her about some random topic, as he guided her away.
Before they got too far, Lady Langston looked over her shoulder and gave Lucian a defying look, before returning her attention to her partner. What was that about? What was the woman up to?
Lucian looked around, annoyed to be already alone, having just arrived. He spotted where the alcohol was and headed there. On his way, he crossed paths with a valet, passing around with a tray full of glasses of champagne. He took one and resumed his course, emptying it before he had reached the refreshments table. Once his well-filled glass of whisky was handed to him, he moved to the large, opened French windows.
With a shoulder leaning on the frame of one, half on the balcony, half in the packed room, he watched as the people inside danced, laughed, talked... His eyes were constantly drawn to a certain dark-haired woman. Delawney wasn't leaving her side, and they danced twice. Then he left her for a moment and came back with two glasses of something. They drank it, and they danced once more.
