Whirlwind Wedding by Jacquie D'Alessandro Page A

numerous affairs, but she'd yet to lure Austin to her bed. He had the distinct impression she hoped to change that tonight.
    She leaned closer, affording him an unimpeded view of her breasts that spilled over her bodice in a show of cleavage that he knew stupefied most men. Her emerald gaze roamed his face, her eyes glowing with sexual promise— the exact sort of look from the exact sort of woman he should be concentrating on.
    With her eyes steady on his, she discreetly slipped her hand under the table and boldly caressed his thigh. "There must be something a woman can do to gain your attention, your grace," she murmured in a husky whisper meant only for his ears.
    He did nothing to stop her or to encourage her; he simply watched her and waited for his body to react to her touch. Her tongue peeked out and she slowly wet her upper lip, her eyes blatantly telling him what she'd rather be doing with her tongue. Her questing fingers moved higher on his leg.
    But instead of lust for her, he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. This beautiful woman, with her voluptuous body and promises of sexual delights, didn't ignite the slightest spark of desire in him. He moved his hand under the table to forcibly halt her caress. At that same instant his mother stood signaling the end of the meal.
    Clearly misunderstanding the reason why he'd placed his hand under the table, Countess Millham smiled wickedly, as she stood along with everyone else. "Until later," she whispered close to his ear as the women departed for the drawing room, leaving the men to their cigars.
    Leaning back in his chair, he lit a cheroot and blew out a long stream of fragrant smoke. Countess Millham had provided him with a perfect and much-needed opportunity to ease the relentless ache clutching his loins. So why the hell wasn't he happy?
    Because she s not the one you want. Thoroughly annoyed with himself, he signaled a footman for a brandy and tossed back the potent drink in a single gulp.
    He suspected this was going to be an excruciatingly long evening.
    Elizabeth entered her bedchamber and leaned back against the closed door, grateful to escape the drawing room and the chattering women. Aunt Joanna and Caroline had both expressed concern when she'd pleaded a headache and excused herself to retire early, but she couldn't remain with the guests any longer. There were too many people, too many disjointed images flashing through her mind. Her head felt as if a corps of drummers pounded on her brain.
    And then there was him. It was painfully obvious Austin was avoiding her. He'd barely acknowledged her before dinner, and every time she'd glanced down the table at him, his attention seemed riveted on the beautiful woman with the large breasts sitting at his elbow.
    She'd turned her attention to Viscount Farrington, with whom she'd discovered a common interest in drawing. To her surprise, he paid her several flowery compliments and professed a desire to sketch her. She'd tried to concentrate on him, but she was constantly distracted by the vague, unsettling images flashing in her mind and the presence of the man at the head of the table.
    After changing into her night rail, she mixed a headache remedy and slid into bed. Indistinct images collided in her brain, teasing her, just out of reach. She closed her eyes, willing the thoughts to go away, but they persisted. Austin's face popped into her mind his mouth curving slowly upward into a devastating smile. She tried to push him from her thoughts but failed.
    What was he doing right this minute? Was he with the woman who had claimed his attention all through dinner? Was he touching her? Kissing her?
    A groan passed her lips. The thought of Austin touching another woman pierced her with a pain that stole her breath, a pain made all the more agonizing because there was nothing she could do about it. Her feelings for him were hopeless.
    Utterly hopeless.
    In spite of himself, Austin noticed Elizabeth's absence the moment he