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Authors: Elizabeth Hanbury
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felt the hairs on her nape prickle with awareness immediately before she found herself staring into Lord Devlyn’s silver bright eyes. He had just arrived and was standing near the ballroom entrance. She went still, transfixed by the way he seemed to be looking at her. The surrounding hum of conversation seemed to dim. Their gazes held and he flashed a smile of acknowledgement.
It took Lucy several seconds to remember how to breathe. Once again she felt that unmistakable pull of attraction. She wanted to run to him. A tremor ran through her and she tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She gave her head a shake. Dear Lord, what was happening to her? She glanced around a little wildly, fearing her thoughts and feelings were writ too plainly on her face, but no one seemed to notice the change in her.
“There is Lord Devlyn,” said Sophie. “So he has decided to attend after all! A few weeks ago he would not promise, despite all Mama’s protests.”
“He looks slightly dangerous somehow,” whispered her sister.
Lucy knew what she meant. His raw masculinity sat uneasily against all the noise and colour of a ballroom, although he wore his aura of power comfortably and without display. Formal evening wear looked good on most men but on Devlyn it was breathtaking. Light from the crystal chandeliers picked out threads in his dark hair that Lucy had never noticed before. He had the most remarkable face: lean and strong, with lines of humour at the corners of his eyes, and a hint of sensuality around his mouth.
It was not an everyday face, the subtle weathering, faintly cynical expression and that deep scar made it intimidating in many ways, but she would never tire of it. Somehow he made every other man fade into the background.
Another flush crept over her, but she pulled herself up sharply. He wanted Belinda and would spend as much time as possible with her this evening. Inevitably, he would encounter Lord Sneyd. Her sister must be the cause of the animosity between the two men. Trusting Devlyn not to be discourteous in public, Lucy hoped Lord Sneyd would do likewise and deny Belinda the spectacle of two admirers vying for her attention.
As she danced with Gil Fernihough, who was surprisingly tongue-tied, Lucy caught sight of Lord Devlyn again. He wasn’t staring at her now. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was smiling and talking to her mother while his eyes followed Belinda.
Lucy felt another stab of anger at Belinda’s superficial nature and wished her character matched her beauty.
Lord Devlyn deserved so much more.
***
His lips curved in a glinting smile, Alex pretended to be attending to Lady Sinclair’s incessant chatter about her daughter. In reality, he was studying Lucy as she laughed and danced with Gil Fernihough. He tried not to stare as she whirled around the floor in front of him.
Dear heaven, he found her incredibly attractive, in every way a woman could be yet she seemed unaware of her appeal. White-hot need shot through him. Jealousy gnawed into his soul like a slow death. He found did not want Lucy Sinclair to share her glorious smile with anyone else. By some magic, Lucy’s smile seemed to pale his ghosts of memory, to lift the melancholy from the recesses of his soul.
But it was more than that…he swore he could feel her, sense her presence. Some elemental force flowed from her body to his. He could pick her out of a room blindfolded. Having never before felt deeply about any woman, Alex found it ironic that his famous cool-headedness and reserve dissipated every time he saw Lucy. The thought made him smile. For the first time in years, he felt restless in a good way and full of wanting. His heartbeat had lodged somewhere in his throat, his breath was fractured. He stifled the urge to push his way through the crowd, pull her into his arms and stake his claim with a kiss. But this was hardly the time or the place. He’d waited his entire life to find her but he had to
It took Lucy several seconds to remember how to breathe. Once again she felt that unmistakable pull of attraction. She wanted to run to him. A tremor ran through her and she tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She gave her head a shake. Dear Lord, what was happening to her? She glanced around a little wildly, fearing her thoughts and feelings were writ too plainly on her face, but no one seemed to notice the change in her.
“There is Lord Devlyn,” said Sophie. “So he has decided to attend after all! A few weeks ago he would not promise, despite all Mama’s protests.”
“He looks slightly dangerous somehow,” whispered her sister.
Lucy knew what she meant. His raw masculinity sat uneasily against all the noise and colour of a ballroom, although he wore his aura of power comfortably and without display. Formal evening wear looked good on most men but on Devlyn it was breathtaking. Light from the crystal chandeliers picked out threads in his dark hair that Lucy had never noticed before. He had the most remarkable face: lean and strong, with lines of humour at the corners of his eyes, and a hint of sensuality around his mouth.
It was not an everyday face, the subtle weathering, faintly cynical expression and that deep scar made it intimidating in many ways, but she would never tire of it. Somehow he made every other man fade into the background.
Another flush crept over her, but she pulled herself up sharply. He wanted Belinda and would spend as much time as possible with her this evening. Inevitably, he would encounter Lord Sneyd. Her sister must be the cause of the animosity between the two men. Trusting Devlyn not to be discourteous in public, Lucy hoped Lord Sneyd would do likewise and deny Belinda the spectacle of two admirers vying for her attention.
As she danced with Gil Fernihough, who was surprisingly tongue-tied, Lucy caught sight of Lord Devlyn again. He wasn’t staring at her now. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was smiling and talking to her mother while his eyes followed Belinda.
Lucy felt another stab of anger at Belinda’s superficial nature and wished her character matched her beauty.
Lord Devlyn deserved so much more.
***
His lips curved in a glinting smile, Alex pretended to be attending to Lady Sinclair’s incessant chatter about her daughter. In reality, he was studying Lucy as she laughed and danced with Gil Fernihough. He tried not to stare as she whirled around the floor in front of him.
Dear heaven, he found her incredibly attractive, in every way a woman could be yet she seemed unaware of her appeal. White-hot need shot through him. Jealousy gnawed into his soul like a slow death. He found did not want Lucy Sinclair to share her glorious smile with anyone else. By some magic, Lucy’s smile seemed to pale his ghosts of memory, to lift the melancholy from the recesses of his soul.
But it was more than that…he swore he could feel her, sense her presence. Some elemental force flowed from her body to his. He could pick her out of a room blindfolded. Having never before felt deeply about any woman, Alex found it ironic that his famous cool-headedness and reserve dissipated every time he saw Lucy. The thought made him smile. For the first time in years, he felt restless in a good way and full of wanting. His heartbeat had lodged somewhere in his throat, his breath was fractured. He stifled the urge to push his way through the crowd, pull her into his arms and stake his claim with a kiss. But this was hardly the time or the place. He’d waited his entire life to find her but he had to
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