Temptation & Twilight. Charlotte Featherstone

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СКАЧАТЬ a character, it seems. Decked out like a marauding Scot, actually. Has an expression that would have given Genghis Khan fits of apoplexy.”

      “Oh, dear,” she whispered. There was only one character of the ton who fit that description, and she wanted to be far, far away from him. “Well, I think it’s grown rather close in here, don’t you? Perhaps we should heed Zeus’s silent counsel and stroll to where a window might be cracked open, or perhaps a strategically placed terrace door?”

      He was very intelligent, the earl was. He took her hand and deftly but discreetly manoeuvred her to the periphery of the room, where she could sense a door awaited their escape.

      Suddenly, there was an almost violent brush of air that forced their hands apart. Then Sheldon was snatched from her side, right before she heard the thud of his body hitting something solid.

      “I doona know who ye are,” Alynwick growled in his unmistakable brogue, “but yer hands are no’ where they belong.”

      The earl tried to reply, but his rasping voice alerted Elizabeth to the fact he couldn’t take in air. The wave of shock from the crowd told her that the Highland beast was either choking him with his bare hands, or had thrust his arm, which she knew was as thick as a tree trunk, against poor Sheldon’s windpipe.

      “Stop this at once,” she demanded in a hiss. “You’re making a scene.”

      She could feel when those dark eyes landed on her. “I’m making a scene?” he retorted as if accusing her of making tongues wag.

      Prickles of awareness raced down her spine, and Elizabeth knew the cause stemmed from the fact that every guest of the Sumners had their eyes fixed firmly on her and the mad marquis. “I insist you stop this now, Alynwick. Everyone will talk.”

      “Doona worry, lass, we’ll give them somethin’ tae talk about, because yer leavin’ with me.”

      “The devil I am!” she yelped in outrage. “Alynwick, dear God, pay attention to what you’re doing. I can hear Sheldon struggling for air.”

      “Sheldon, is it?”

      The sound of tussling, of fine wools brushing together, came to her ears, and she thought about throwing herself forward, hopefully between them. But if she fell to her knees, or worse, the floor, it would cause even more of a scene.

      “Here now, what’s all this fuss about?” The masculine growl that came next Elizabeth was relieved to hear.

      “Sod off, Sussex,” Alynwick muttered.

      “Come now, my lord,” her brother said. His voice was smooth and light, but Lizzy heard the edge of warning in it. “We needn’t have such violence here.”

      It was a subtle warning to the marquis. The Brethren Guardians, of which her brother and the marquis were both members, did not need this sort of notoriety. Indeed, just by coming to break up the pair, Adrian was putting the Guardians at risk—because no one knew that Sussex, Alynwick and Lord Black shared more than the most polite and distant acquaintance with each other. If the marquis didn’t cease this madness, then everything they had fought to keep from the prying eyes of the ton might very well be in jeopardy.

      “Murder at the Musicale,” Sussex drawled. “I can read the headlines in the morning papers. I doubt you’re interested in giving the masses something other than sugar to sweeten their morning tea.”

      Alynwick growled something in that familiar beastly way of his. That was followed by another rustle, a rasping gasp and a brush of masculine-scented air that swept past her—Alynwick being shaken off his lordship.

      “Apologies, Sheldon. I am quite certain that the Marquis of Alynwick did not mean to introduce himself in such a way.”

      “The hell I didn’t!”

      “My lord,” Elizabeth whispered, moving a step toward the rasping earl and reaching out for what she thought might be his arm. “Are you all right? Can I summon a footman to fetch you something? A drink, perhaps?”

      “Don’t even think to touch him in my presence,” said a dark, menacing voice in her ear. The sound made her shiver, as did the mysterious scent of his Scotch-laced breath washing over her. “If you doona want him torn tae pieces, leave him be.”

      She didn’t want this—the marquis standing behind her, crowding her—and she stiffened, discovered the safe barriers she always erected when she found herself in his company. “You are nothing but an animal,” she snapped, careful to make certain no one but Alynwick could hear her outburst. “Unhand me this instant.” But the brute wouldn’t listen, and instead pressed closer to her, his big palm cupping her elbow in a fierce grip.

      When he next spoke, he seemed to have put some measure of control on his anger, for his brogue had all but disappeared, leaving behind a silky English accent that worked its way along her body.

      “Animal, am I? Should I throw you down now and cover you, as befitting the animal I am?” he whispered.

      She would not encourage his wicked behaviour with an answer. But Alynwick was never one to back away from a challenge, or wickedness.

      “In the animal world,” he growled, “the alpha is the leader. He must exert his power and let everyone know he is in charge—and he’s,” Alynwick said of Sheldon, “trespassing on my hunting grounds.”

      “This isn’t the jungle, and your laws have no jurisdiction in the ton.”

      “You think not?” he purred. “The ton especially is a jungle, a feeding ground for prey like yourself. I’m merely exerting myself as chief predator.”

      Oh, she wished she could say what she really wanted to, and wish him to hell for the scene he had created and was bent on pursuing. But she was a lady, and must act the part while every eye of the ton looked on.

      “Shall I call for your carriage, perhaps, Sheldon?” her brother enquired of the earl. Then his voice changed, as if he were looking in the opposite direction. “Lizzy, Lady Lucy approaches. She’ll escort you to our carriage. The evening festivities, I am afraid, have come to a rather abrupt cessation.”

      Before she could sense any movement or sound, Elizabeth’s arm was taken firmly in hand, and she was whisked away with a rustle of silk, amidst shocked gasps from the Sumners’ scandalized guests.

      “Let me go at once,” she demanded in a low voice, but the marquis didn’t hear her, or at the very least pretended he hadn’t, as he all but dragged her out of the salon and into a place that was much cooler and quieter.

      “Whatever barbaric law you subscribe to, Alynwick, I am not one of your subjects. Unhand me.”

      Silence. But his hold strengthened on her elbow, and his pace increased, so that she was forced to hurry her steps to keep up with him.

      “You devil,” she explained, trying to disguise the alarm in her voice. “You’ll make me fall with this pace!”

      “Shall I carry ye, then?”

      “Don’t you dare, you heathen!” she spat breathlessly. “Where are you taking me, pray?”

      “Someplace quiet, СКАЧАТЬ