Twin of Ice by Jude Deveraux Page A

she didn’t. “It won’t be so bad. You’ve only met the worst people of the town. I’d like to introduce you to my friends, and I promise you not one person will faint at your feet.”
    He looked up at her. “Not one lady’ll faint when she sees me with my beard gone?”
    With a smile, she moved away from him. “Are you trying to get me to say you’ll be the most handsome man there?”
    He made a grab for her hand, but she moved back too quickly. “Let’s you and me stay here,” he said. “We’ll find somethin’ to do together. I like that dress.”
    “Oh, no, Mr. Taggert,” she laughed, wondering if she could tighten her corset another quarter inch. “I will not be seduced into…into whatever you have in mind. You must get dressed for the garden party.” She’d backed up until she was pressed against the wall.
    Kane moved very close to her, put both hands on the wall on either side of her head and leaned forward. “We haven’t really gotten to know each other, have we? I mean, a couple should spend some time alone before they get married, shouldn’t they?”
    Houston deftly slid from under his arm. “Mr. Taggert,” she said firmly, “I’ll not be sweet-talked out of this party. I think you are afraid to go, and perhaps if you’re the sort of man who lets a little gathering of people frighten him, I’m not sure you’re the man I want to marry.”
    With an angry look, he went back to his desk. “You gotta mean streak in you a mile wide. I ain’t afraid of no damn party.”
    “Then prove it by getting dressed and going with me.” As she watched, he seemed to be fighting something inside himself, and she almost said she’d stay at home with him. Be firm, Houston, she told herself. This is what he wants you for.
    He tossed the papers to his desk. “I’ll go,” he said in disgust. “And I hope you ain’t gonna be sorry.” He stormed past her and out the door.
    “I hope so, too,” she breathed, as she ran after him to get the suit that was still in the carriage.
    While Kane dressed, Houston looked at the furniture scattered about the house and planned where it should go. After an hour and a half, when she’d begun to think Kane had left by a second-story window, she turned to see him standing in the doorway wearing the dark frock coat, white linen shirt, and slate gray trousers, a white cravat held in his hand.
    “I don’t know how to tie this.”
    Houston couldn’t move for a moment. The well-tailored suit showed to advantage the extraordinary difference in width between his shoulders and his trim waist, and the dark cloth emphasized his brows and hair. With pride, she thought of appearing at the party on his arm. Maybe there was a part of her that wanted to show the town that she could get another man. She could certainly do worse than this man. Oh my, yes she could.
    “Do you know how to tie this?” he persisted.
    “Yes, of course,” she said, coming to herself. “You’ll have to sit down so I can reach your neck.”
    He sat on one of the little gilt chairs as if he were a condemned man.
    As Houston worked on the Windsor tie, she began to talk to him. “The party is at the house of a friend of mine, Tia Mankin. There’ll be long tables set with food and drink, and all you’ll have to do is walk around and talk to people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can.”
    Kane said nothing.
    When the tie was done, she looked into his eyes. Was this the man on whose head she’d broken a pitcher? “It’ll be over soon, then we’ll come back here and have supper.”
    Suddenly, his arms tightened about her and he kissed her hard—as if he wanted courage from her. The next moment he was standing beside her. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, heading for the door.
    Again, Houston was too stunned to move. Their few kisses seemed to mean nothing to him but each one left her breathless.
    “Ain’t you comin’?” he asked impatiently from the doorway.
    “Yes, certainly,”