The Man in the Buff Breeches Read Free

Nick?” She widens her blue eyes demanding a response.
    “He seems okay.”
    “Okay!” She looks crestfallen. “Do you mean okay as in tasty or okay as in bland?”
    Her concern is touching. I really can’t get use to her trying to pair me up. All through our lives, it was always the other way around. I was the one who didn’t want for male attention, and Lyn was the shy one.
    “He is umm…” My lips dissolve into a grin. “More than okay—in fact, mind boggling, thigh clenching delicious.
    Henry rolls his eyes but looks pleased. A terrible thought enters my head, and I frown at him. “You haven’t paid him for the evening have you?”
    “No—well not much,” he teases as he takes Lyn’s arm and whisks her back onto the dance floor. Henry can’t dance that well either, but he can get away with it as he is an attractive specimen and those watching him are not watching him for his dance moves.
    I gaze around the ballroom. It is filling up, but the Regency theme seems to be waning. Restrictive bits of costumes are being discarded. Posture is slipping, and someone is setting up the disco.
    The man in the nude breeches is staring at me again. Has he a problem? I’m not the sort to be intimidated, so I wander over to get a better look at him. As I approach, he raises one of those Regency quizzing glass items that consist of a lens on a stick. With a slouchy stance that is slightly offensive in this gathering, he inspects me up and down. Finally his gaze rests on my breasts. I wonder if they look bigger through that thing.
    He has that insidious smirk on his face again, and my temper rises. I pick up a plate from the buffet table, choose a sandwich, and turn to him.
    “Did you get a good view, or are you looking for something particular—your manners perhaps.”
    He lurks behind the quizzing glass for a few seconds then lowers it, revealing a pair of lazy brown eyes.
    “Just keeping an eye on the occupants, whilst entering into the spirit of the occasion. I’m helping out with the security for the evening.”
    “Security!” I scoff. “Does that thing have night vision?”
    “What’s it to you, Miss Bennet? You’re not hiding anything dangerous under those skirts are you?”
    Miss Bennet ! I wonder for a moment what Elizabeth would have replied to such a question. Finally I curl my lip. “And I suppose you think you look like Colin Firth in those strange coloured breeches.”
    “Who?” he replies, taking a bite from his sandwich.
    “Darcy,” I snap.
    “Oh.” He stops chewing and grins. “Do you really think so?”
    I consider his thick golden mane of hair that sticks out at all angles over the high collar of his coat.
    “No! Actually, I think you look more like his horse.”
    “Oh dear! Really, Miss Bennet, you are forward.”
    He winks at me and then looks down at his tightly clad assets. “Thank you for the compliment.”
    My jaw drops but I cannot think of a suitable reply. I roll my eyes and walk away. It is the best put down I can think of for the moment.
    From the other side of the room, I cannot resist a look back at the infuriating man. A blonde with a Regency Bo Peep like bonnet has engaged him in conversation. He has stopped smirking, and I wonder if they are arguing. She gives him a Co-op bag from which he pulls out a white period shirt. Why didn’t he dress properly in the first place?

    Nick is gracefully striding back with our drinks. I notice a couple of women at the bar turn and follow his progress with hungry eyes. Yes, isn’t he. I smile their way as he eases into the chair next to me and hands me a highly decorative drink.
    “Now Shona, tell me all about yourself? Do you have a boyfriend or husband?”
    “No,” I say with a grin . And if there were, they would have instantly dissolved in a pool of denial .
    “Excellent!” The cobalt eyes darken as he raises his glass.
    I take a steadying sip of my drink. It is good punch, the sort that shoots bravery straight to your