Seduction & Scandal Read Free Page B

the balustrade as he surveyed the scene below him. He was very tall and immensely broad in the chest and shoulders. His black dress clothes and white cravat were impeccably tailored. Bow ties were the fashion now, but the elegance of the old-fashioned cravat suited him, giving him an aristocratic allure. So, too, did his black velvet jacket, which was styled in the Eastern fashion—mandarin collar with two rows of gold buttons in the military style.
    He looked liked an ancient Romany prince—a warrior boyar—as his head moved slowly from right to left, his gaze spanning the entire room and its occupants.
    Here was a man of the world, Isabella thought as she perused him from head to toe. A man who was mysterious and experienced, and utterly captivating. There was an air of danger about the man, a thought that was supported by the fact that a few matrons to her right were quietly but rapidly whispering behind their fans. More than one gentleman stiffened, their eyes wary as they watched the commanding earl. Everyone seemed to move in the smallest of increments—as if they were in slow motion. Was it out of fear that their movements might catch the infamous earl’s attention?
    Warmth spread through Isabella’s body as she watched the Earl of Black stroll with negligent ease down the stairs. He was all arrogance and predatorlike grace. Tall and sleek, he resembled the Bengal tiger Wendell had shown her on display in the British Museum. He had the same rapacious look in his eye as she had seen in the tiger’s green eyes. He was on the hunt, that was for certain, but for what, or whom, she feared to guess.
    Lord Black never emerged from his town house, which was across the street from her uncle’s town house. She had only ever caught the odd glimpse of him. His reclusiveness just fueled her imagination, and Isabella felther breathing grow rapid and shallow, her writer’s mind taking over. Her skin had grown taut, itchy beneath the lilac satin of her tight-fitting bodice as she watched him cut a swath through the guests who parted for him as though he were as powerful as Moses, parting the sea. Suddenly he stopped, turned his head and found her amidst the crowd. Isabella felt strangely light-headed as their gazes collided from across the ballroom.
    He was all mystery and exoticness and more than a touch hazardous to a lady’s well-being as he held her gaze. Needing to break the hypnotizing spell of Lord Black’s aqua eyes that were holding her captive, she blinked and forced her body, which now felt overheated and lethargic, to move.
    â€œIt’s grown rather warm, don’t you think?” she asked her cousin in what sounded like a strangled voice. “I do believe I could use some air.”
    Before Lucy could protest, Isabella backed away and turned in the direction of the French doors that led to the terrace. Reaching for the handle, she glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Black was still in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by hordes of London’s elite. He paid his admirers no heed, but instead stared at her with his piercing eyes. There was a promise in those eyes—a very dark, forbidden promise.
    â€œMy dear,” her uncle said behind her. She felt his hand lift hers from the door handle, then the feel of his arm threading with hers. “Someone wishes an introduction with you.”
    She tried to refuse as her uncle steered her to where Lord Black held court. His gaze was still focused solely on her, and she shivered.
    â€œHere now, there’s nothing true about what you’ve heard about Black. It’s only rumors.”
    She hadn’t heard anything about the earl, other than his appearance at tonnish events was much sought after, andthat he was generally considered a recluse. What rumors could her uncle be referring to?
    When she stood before him, when their eyes met, she gasped, unable to disguise the sound. Black did not possess