Page 15 of The Notorious Lord Sin
Would she relent? Would she succumb to his charms? He was so out of practice he doubted she would.
With a sigh, he returned to the ball and partook in several wines before seeking out Lady Esme for a second dance. If he could not have Paris, he would at least attempt to make her jealous in the interim.
The following morning Paris took one of the horses and grooms and rode down to Hyde Park. A brisk, early morning ride was just what she needed to clear her head after the ball the night before.
Well, to be truthful, her interaction with Lord Astoridge. It had taken all her power not to succumb to his charms. His heartfelt words and need that all but oozed from his very soul.
She had heard such promises before. Had fallen for the words men's lying lips spilled.
When Lord Hervey had asked her to marry him, but days after Lord Astoridge had thrown her over, she knew she could not refuse. He was her savior, a man who wanted her for herself and did not care that she came with nothing.
Men such as Dominic glittered, and people naturally gravitated toward them. But just because someone sparkled and was fetching did not mean they were the same inwardly.
Paris arrived at Rotten Row and was glad to see only a handful of people using the track. She walked along its edge, happy to merely be out and enjoying the brisk morning ride. Several riders cantered past, and she waved when they called out welcome to her before the thumping of horses' hooves sounded closer than they ought.
"I thought it was you," Lord Astoridge said, pulling his horse up alongside hers. Paris inwardly sighed at the sight that he made. His cravat loosely tied about his neck gave a glimpse of his chest beneath. His windswept hair fell over his brow, and the shadow of stubble on his jaw all but screamed rake.
Men should not be allowed to be so handsome. Especially men who had broken women's hearts and deserved no praise. "Lord Astoridge. You are up early this morning," she said, pushing her horse forward.
He chuckled, the deep sound making her innards tremble. How could she still react to him this way after all he had done to her? Curse her weak heart for reveling in his presence.
"I enjoy a good, hard ride in the morning," he said, a wicked glint in his eyes.
She shook her head, not succumbing to his naughtiness. "That is good, I suppose," she said, looking and noting that other than three riders well ahead of them, they were quite alone. "I needed to clear my head. Today I have many calls to make along with this evening's costume ball at the Duncannons. Are you attending?" she asked him.
He nodded. "I am. I'm going to go as Caesar. A distant relative from what my father once proclaimed, although no one in my family has ever confirmed such suspicions."
"So you'll be wearing a dress like myself," she teased, unable to not picture what he would look like wearing a toga. Would she gain a glimpse of his knees and portions of his thighs? Were they as muscular as she remembered them?
The thought made heat pool between her legs, and she cursed herself for succumbing to his charms. She should not. He did not deserve her regard, but he was so tempting how could she not want what she had once coveted?
What he had offered her only nights ago. She studied him, drank in his handsome profile and kissable mouth, and thought more on the matter.
"I will be," he answered, his voice dripping in insinuation. "What of you? Who will you be arriving as?" he asked.
Paris shrugged, not willing to disclose everything to him so soon, and besides, she wasn't sure at all what she would wear. She had several outfits to choose from. "That you will have to wait and see, my lord," she said, fighting back a grin, knowing that wasn't so very true. Her costume of Cleopatra had been chosen days before.
"I look forward to seeing very well," he drawled. They rode again in silence for several steps before he said, "Have you given any more thought to my suggestion to you the other night?"
She raised her brow, feigning ignorance. "I do not know what you mean?" His lips twitched, and she knew he read through her words.
"I mean about you and I becoming lovers. I want you in my bed. I do not know how much clearer I need to make things."
The thought made her blood sing, and from her body's reaction to his words, she wanted him too. To hurt and punish him, yes, but also to take pleasure. To enjoy the company of a man in such an intimate space. It had been so very long, over a year, since she had been with anyone and her body craved to be touched, kissed, and every other delicious thing a man could do to a woman.
"Oh, that." She laughed, shrugging. "I may need to wait and see what you're willing to do first. This evening at the Duncannons, meet me in the music room. It is several doors down from the ballroom. There we shall discuss the matter further, and I shall see if you're truly committed."
"I'm dedicated, Paris," he stated, meeting her eye, and something dark and hungry that she read in his brown eyes told her he was.
ChapterNine
The Duncannons had outdone themselves with the decorations for the costume ball. Hundreds of guests were in attendance, the ballroom packed to the brim with people from throughout history. Some less favorable than others. Paris could see Henry VIII and his wife Anne Boleyn, the poor chit hopefully would have a better evening than the real lady herself had in life.
"What fun this night is to be," Millie stated at her side. Dressed this evening as Marie de' Medici, although she looked like so many other French queens who strolled the ballroom floor.
"I find costume balls so amusing that one cannot help but have a pleasant evening," she said. Paris glanced about the room and could not see Dominic in attendance.
She hoped he would not be long, if only so she could see him in a toga. But that wasn't the only reason why. She wanted him in her bed too. Not that she had forgiven him his sins against her, but merely to appease an ache that had begun in her that would not relent.
