An Impossible Attraction. Brenda Joyce

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      “We are usually at odds,” Stephen said. “Which you already know, as you have seen us sparring since we were small boys.”

      “And neither one of you ever wins,” she reminded them both, her violet eyes stern. “So who was that woman who fainted in your arms?”

      Before he could answer, Ariella cut in. “That is Alexandra Bolton. Her mother was a good friend of Aunt Blanche’s,” she said, referring to Lady Harrington, “but after she passed away, the family has fallen on hard times. I haven’t seen her in years, and it is wonderful to see her and her sisters out and about.”

      “Is she widowed?” Stephen asked, well aware that she hadn’t worn any rings.

      Both women looked at him. “I don’t think she was ever married,” Ariella said, her brows lifted. “But I am not sure. Are you plotting your next seduction?”

      He stared calmly at her. “A gentleman does not kiss and tell.”

      “Don’t you dare!” she said, instantly outraged.

      Before he could change the subject, a man behind them said, “Who is about to be seduced?”

      Stephen turned in surprise as Elysse’s brother spoke. He was friendly with Jack O’Neill, but he hadn’t seen him in two years—O’Neill had been in America. “Ariella has a vivid imagination, or have you forgotten?”

      Jack grinned and winked. Like Elysse, he was golden in coloring, though with gray eyes, and now he was bronzed from being outdoors. “I could never forget that.”

      Ariella huffed, “I am warning Mowbray off the woman he rescued from a swoon. I happen to know her, and she is not for him—not unless his intentions are honorable ones.”

      About to sip his champagne, Stephen choked.

      “Really?” Jack laughed.

      “I merely prevented the woman from collapsing,” Stephen somehow said. “My God, I ask one innocent question and I am accused of the worst intentions.” He gave Ariella a cool glance. What was wrong with her? Alexandra Bolton was in her late twenties, and a woman with such striking looks could not possibly be lacking in experience.

      “Well, I have no problem confessing that my intentions might not be honorable, not at all, if I was in your shoes,” Jack declared. “That brunette is quite pleasing to look at. Hello, Elysse. I am jealous. Are you happier to see Stephen, a mere friend, than me, your own brother?”

      Elysse was wide-eyed—clearly, she hadn’t known that her brother had returned to the country. “I haven’t received a letter from you in a year, so we are not speaking,” she said tersely, then gave him a cold look and turned her back on him.

      “It is rather hard to write letters when you are warding off hostile Indians from the homestead,” Jack said, amused. He kissed her cheek from behind. “I love you anyway, and I have a present for you.” He then pumped Alexi’s hand. “Congratulations.”

      Alexi grinned. “The Stag at midnight,” he said.

      “I wouldn’t miss it,” Jack returned.

      Elysse faced Jack then. “Bribery will not get you forgiveness.”

      “But I have the stab wounds to prove my words,” he said, eyes wide and innocent. “And an Apache warrior has a good hank of my hair.”

      “Why did you have to go to the wilds of America?” Elysse asked in dismay, all anger forgotten.

      “That was so easy,” Jack laughed, putting his arms around her.

      For one moment, Stephen almost felt like the small boy he’d once been, standing on the edge of the crowded de Warenne salon, the only outsider in the room. St. Xavier had come up to join them, and he was aware of Sir Rex and Lady Blanche standing a few paces away, speaking to Tyrell de Warenne, the earl of Adare, who was standing with the duchess, his pretty, plump wife, Lizzie. Stephen was used to such feelings. It was impossible not to stand amid the great de Warenne family and not feel the sensation of not quite belonging, even though he shared their blood. But he would never share their name, and the blood connection was a family secret—society would never know. The fact of the matter was that he would always be on the fringes of the family and never truly a part of it.

      Not that he minded, and not that it mattered. Every man of honor had a duty, and his was Clarewood.

      Stephen turned away, certain Jack had meant every word as far as the Indians and his hair went, and just as certain that he had cleverly manipulated Elysse. The crowd in the hall had been reduced, most of the guests now in the great ballroom, for which Harrington Hall was famous. He scanned the room but did not see the most recent object of his interest. But across the room, he saw the Sinclairs arriving. Lord Sinclair had recently angled for Stephen’s marriage to his very beautiful daughter. Young Anne was wedged between her parents, and she was so stunning that heads turned as they entered. His own blood did not race; instead, he had the urge to loosen his necktie. He hadn’t dismissed Sinclair outright; Anne had all the proper prerequisites—on paper, anyway—and he had said he would consider such a union.

      She was only eighteen. She would be meek and eager to please; she would not have independent opinions; and she would make a stunning duchess.

      “Why are you scowling?” Alexi asked.

      “Am I frowning?” He smiled perfunctorily. He knew he would be bored with her before they ever got to the altar, and that was the end of that.

      “Who is that? Oh, wait, don’t bother—I know the answer.”

      “Anne Sinclair. Her father suggested a marriage.”

      “You will never get on.”

      “Do not tell me how splendid constant bickering is.”

      “I would die of boredom if Elysse obeyed my every command.”

      “She disobeys your every command,” Stephen pointed out.

      “And I am all the happier because of it.”

      “And while I am thrilled you are so besotted, I should be incredibly unhappy if my wife disobeyed me.”

      “Ah, yes, of course, Your Grace,” Alexi said. He shook his head in disgust and lowered his voice. “You can pretend you are like the old man, but you are not. And we both know you will never get on in a dull, arranged marriage—which is why you have avoided matrimony for almost fifteen years.”

      Stephen was oddly annoyed, and they were once again at a stand-off. “I’ll see you at the Stag later. I pray we can discuss your affairs, not mine.”

      “Coward.”

      Only Alexi de Warenne could get away with such an insolent statement. Stephen decided to ignore him and strode off into the crowd. He had better things to do—and an acquaintance to pursue.

      SARA HAD BEEN THRONGED with guests and admirers since she’d arrived. Stephen smiled, studying his half sister from a slight distance. She had never seemed so happy, and he was at once glad and proud. She was a very pretty girl, taking after her mother in both appearance and СКАЧАТЬ