Chelynne by Robyn Carr Page A

stare. Then, as if by magic, a hush fell over the room as the earl and Chad looked in her direction. Her eyes were fixed on her betrothed and he stared at her in dumb wonder.
    His shocked expression sent her thoughts sailing. He recognized her at once, that much was obvious. Was he pleased? Angry? She smiled at him, an intimate smile she had practiced, but he was barely shaken out of his dismay. The earl made a move to receive her and take her to Chad, but Chad caught the movement and held up an arm across his father and pressed on ahead of him. Breaths were held as he approached her, and when he neared she lifted warm brown eyes to him for the merest instant and then dropped into a deep curtsy, holding her gown back with her hands.
    When she rose his hand was extended to her and she placed hers trustingly in it. After placing a kiss on its back he held it high above their heads and led her into the ballroom, presenting her to the guests. He raised the other hand to the orchestra that stood ready; the first note was struck, and Chelynne and Chad led the dance. They touched with only fingertips and eyes, yet her entire being was filled with his presence. She glided as he would have her, dipped when she should, every movement unconscious, spontaneous. She was aware of nothing but him.
    With another wave of his arm, those who stood and watched joined the dance and she was swept away in a dream, his light touch burning her. She paid no heed to his direction and would not have argued if she had been more aware. They came to pause near the glass and iron door leading from this grand ballroom to the gardens. A handy and almost invisible footman opened the doors automatically, closing them softly behind the young couple.
    The brisk night air brought Chelynne out of her state and into full awareness. She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “Did I keep you waiting long?”
    “It was worth the wait.” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “You played me false, madam.”
    “It was not my intention, my lord. I tried to explain but you would not hear.”
    “You didn’t try very soon,” he admonished.
    “It was your reluctance for your bride,” she confessed. “I couldn’t resist...Was I so wrong?”
    He laughed a little awkwardly, never taking his eyes off her. “So, you’ve managed to learn a little of me without my knowing. Beware, madam, from now you will know only what I choose to tell you.”
    “Then you are angry,” she said softly. “I was afraid you would be.”
    He lifted her chin with a finger so he might study again the face. Tight-lipped indeed! Gwendolen had so badly slandered her beauty that the act could only have been wrought from jealousy. He saw in the moonlight a pale oval face with a slight flush on high cheekbones. The lips were thin but well shaped and parted now in a half smile that begged to be covered and tasted. Though small of stature she was hardly thin. Her breasts rose and fell temptingly with her breath and her waist was tiny. As he immediately judged, it was the perfect size for his hands. As if performing a special test, he touched his thumbs and forefingers together around her waist. Then sliding them lower, he found firm and tender hips and felt there the promise of a wonderful ride. This would be no easy battle. He wanted her at once.
    “You’ll find, love, that I am angry in the best of times. I give you fair warning.”
    “Will you be a difficult man to live with?” she asked coquettishly, her little head tilted up.
    “Of a certain, my lady.”
    His expression was cold, that smoky quality gone now from his eyes as they became again that hard, impassive flint. Worried, she turned from him and took a few steps into the garden. She had not thought to bear witness to his reluctance so soon. From his earliest actions she had been filled with hope.
    “See here, Chelynne. I’ve no wish to spoil your fun.”
    “But you discourage me so,” she murmured. “You did not seem to be a