The second novel in my Romance with Color Trilogy!
If You Asked A Rake to Reform
“What a lovely pair they make,” Montborne said, drawing a heart around the retreating forms of his cousin and best friend as they disappeared into the crowded ballroom. “Don’t you agree?”
Genevieve peered at her intended. He appeared sane enough despite his jovial tone. Handsome enough, too. More than handsome, actually. Positively magnificent. Roman’s golden curls fell about in disarray, framing his face in impertinent whorls. The angular cut of his tailcoat emphasized his height, and only the slight crook of his nose could be called imperfect. From a prominent position on folds of downy white silk, a single sapphire cravat pin winked in the candlelight. Much the way he winked at her now, as if daring her to disagree. She made a moue.
“I can see you do,” he said with a laugh. “Now that they have left us to our devices, it is for us to decide if we shall detest or demur to our circumstances. Have you a hairpin?”
Viv blinked at the sudden turn in conversation. “I have.” She worked one free of her coiffure and handed it to him. Their gloved fingers brushed as he took it, shooting a jolt of awareness up her arm. She snatched her hand away.
He seemed not to notice. He slid the hairpin into one of the knots of his cravat, affixing it next to his more costly cravat pin. From there it took on a significance of its own. One that made her pulse race, and created more questions than she wanted to answer. “Why did you do that?”
He lifted a brow. “Because I desired to.”
“Give it back.”
“You can’t demand the return of your token, once given.”
“I can and I am. I thought you needed it.”
“I do.” He flashed her a roguish grin. “Very much, in fact.”
“I meant for a reason.” She huffed and folded her arms over her chest.
He shook his head, tousling his hair into further disarray. “I just gave you one.”
“I meant a good reason.”
“Miss Morelle,” he said, and Viv thought her name sounded like poetry on his lips, “let’s dance.”
“No.” She shook his hand off her arm. It was no use. It felt as if he had burned an imprint on her skin, even through her gloves — and all the way to her soul.
“Are you afraid?”
She lifted her eyes from his cranberry and cornflower-striped waistcoat. “Of you? Of course not.” She snorted for emphasis.
“Oh, my dear. You protest too much. Come, be close to me for a change. I’m to be your husband.” He pulled her to his powerful body, drawing her into the steps of a waltz. The music crescended, and with the rise in energy, her awareness increased. The steps of the dance came second nature. She had only to focus on the richly dressed assembly and he would fade away…Viv laughed at her naivity. If it were so easy, she wouldn’t be tongue-tied now. She wouldn’t tingle in the arms of the one man she knew didn’t want her.
“All of a sudden it seems you are in love with those words, my lord,” she murmured. Her eyes darted to his. Heat spread through her cheeks as she realized her unspoken question boomed louder than her statement. She added, “Pray, is your brain being eaten by worms?”
A low rumble vibrated through her hand as he chuckled. “You do wound me with your wit, future wife. But can’t a man be pleased with the turn his life has taken?”
“Perhaps another man. But you have made your position clear, and I vow ‘pleased’ had no part in it.” She forced her eyes from the grin tilting one corner of his mouth and examined the cravat pin under her nose instead. As large at the pad of her thumb, it could not have come cheap. Suddenly Viv recalled the dark squares of wallpaper scattered through his townhouse. “This is all to be rich?”
“Rich in love, my dear.” He pulled her closer. “Your money has no effect on me.”
“But suddenly my person does. You boggle the mind.” She rolled her eyes, alighting on the swirling couples next to them. The unfamiliar faces could not hold her attention the way Roman could, though, and her gaze slid back to him. The breadth of his shoulders stretched before her, draped in expensive coffee-brown eveningwear he could ill afford.
“Only yours. Everyone else finds me a refreshing breath of air.”
“Crazy air,” she muttered.
“Now you’re just drawing at straws.”
“I’d like to stick a straw in your ear.” She laughed, finally allowing her amusement to show. “My guess it it’d come clean out the other side.”
“Ouch. Viv, there’ll be nothing left of my pride if you don’t curb your tongue.”
“Viv, is it now?” She pulled back to look up into his face. Mistake. As long as she didn’t look at him, his teasing words could be dismissed as temporary insanity. But looking into his eyes shining like perfect crystal, she was undone. He looked relaxed. Elegant, of course. But strangely, happy.
She looked away.
“What is it,” he teased. “Have I blinded your brain?”
“Goodness, you’re full of yourself.”
“All six feet, four inches.”
“You are ridiculous. And for your information, my forgetting what I was going to say had nothing to do with you.”
“Nothing?”
“Absolutely nothing.” She forced her mouth into a frown, but feared the twitch of her lips gave her away.
“Pity.”
She could hear his smile. It did disturbing things to her insides. It almost made her forget…”You may not call me Viv,” she stated with a shake of her head. “It is improper.”
“Come now,” he cajoled her. “It is a perfectly good name. I quite like it. I’m sure many sonnets and verses of random poetry could be written with it. ‘Viv, my darling dear/would you not think twice/and draw me near?’”
A smile threatened to crack. “Abysmal, my lord.”
“You clearly have no taste.”
“I’m with you, aren’t I?” She gave up holding back. Her insides quaked with laughter, and she would choke if she didn’t allow it to escape. “You are rather tasteless.”
“Touche. But in actuality, being seen with me is quite fashionable. I make a delicious on dit, you know.”
“Your modesty is admirable.”
“Legendary, you mean. Tis part of my appeal.”
“My lord, are you quite sure you weren’t dropped on your head as an infant?”
He drew back, looking down at her. This time she did not look away. In fact, she even managed not to flush a hot red when he pulled her just a fraction closer.
“Dear Viv, of course I was dropped on my head. It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?”
She glanced at him, unable not to. “For what?”
“For my superhuman charm, naturally.”
“Posh.” But she smiled.
“Yes, Miss Morelle–or may I call you Viv?–there isn’t a woman alive who can resist me.”
“Except one. And no, you may not call me Viv.”
“You see, Viv, I disagree. If she exists, I’ve never met her.”
“I suppose my pushing you into the Serpentine was not evidence enough.”
“I should say not! I would have jumped in myself, if you’d but waited a minute.”
“You are full of–”
His brows rose in horror. “My dear future wife, will you kiss me with that dirty mouth?”
She made a strangled noise. “I’m not kissing you at all, you graceful oaf!”
He clucked and shook his head. “There are so many more appealing endearments than oaf.”
She looked around the balcony he’d deftly pulled her out on. The music had faded to a mere drift of chords, and she hadn’t even noticed. Her situation was more dire than she’d admitted. “Clod-head will do. This is private.”
“I know.”
“Too private.” Uncertainty edged her tone. She looked down the wide length of the stone balcony. Potted palms scattered in strategic locations provided dangerous shadows. Viv took a step back. Roman pulled her closer, sealing their bodies. His breath fanned her face, heating her neck and drifting down the bodice of her gown. “There’s no such thing.”
Her gaze flew to his face. Another lie.
