The Rake's Proposal. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

the grand staircase. As the clock struck eleven, Kate finally let her guard drop. Perhaps he wasn’t coming after all. Perhaps he, too, was embarrassed.

      Not bloody likely.

      Kate was standing to the side of the ballroom, watching the other guests sway to the music. She was enjoying a much-needed respite from dancing—her gown allowed for only the shallowest of breaths and she was feeling a bit faint as a result. She’d danced with several eligible young men already and had even taken Charlotte’s advice and given Philip Bannister another chance. She’d forced herself to be less critical this time and found that, although he was still a bit dry, he wasn’t really that bad either. Philip was a year older than her at twenty-five and was actually rather handsome with his dark brown hair and eyes. She hadn’t minded dancing with him twice—even though, as she sadly noted, he fell just shy of her own slender height. No one could be perfect, she supposed. Kate mentally promoted him from the rank of King Obnoxious Oaf to the rank of somewhat dull, but generally good-natured, bore. In other words, he became a potential candidate.

      No, everything seemed to be going to plan. A few more weeks of this, and hopefully she’d be well on the way to matrimony.

      She scanned the sea of people, looking for a recognizable face. None registered, and she was about to go search out Charlotte when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

      “There you are, goose. I’ve been trying to find you alone for ages.”

      She turned around, smiling broadly at Charlotte as she did so. Her smile froze, however, when she saw who accompanied her.

      “I’m sure you’ve met Lord Benjamin Sinclair, Kate—your brother’s oldest friend?”

      At her blank expression, Charlotte continued. “Well, this is Lord Benjamin Sinclair. Lord Sinclair, this is Miss Katherine Sutcliff.”

      “A pleasure, Miss Sutcliff,” he said blandly for Charlotte’s benefit.

      “How do you do,” she replied, curtsying as she did so and looking down to avoid his gaze. The feeling had returned in a flash…the nervous stomach, the heat…damn him again. She sucked in her breath as he lightly kissed her gloved hand.

      “Well…” Charlotte went on, not at all blind to the sudden tension that surrounded her, “I think I see Lady Cheshire at the lemonade table, and I could use a glass myself, so…”

      And with that, she smiled and flounced away. Kate couldn’t help but catch the now familiar self-satisfied sparkle in her eyes. If only Charlotte knew that her matchmaking skills were wasted on this particular pair.

      Kate could feel the heat from Ben’s gaze returning to her face. He’s waiting for me to look at him, she thought, aware that she’d have to give in to his gaze eventually. But too many other thoughts were still running through her head—had he been there all night? Had he just arrived? She couldn’t very well ask. To do so would be to admit that she’d been watching for him.

      She knew she had to look. She couldn’t just stand there like a ninny, staring at the floor.

      Resolved, Kate met his gaze, and immediately wished she hadn’t. It was there again—the piercing, golden heat of his eyes as they wandered over her hair, her face and down…oh, God, that damned dress. Ben made no pretense of discretion, and she went red once again as he stared unabashedly at her breasts.

      “I wondered if I would see you here tonight, but I certainly didn’t expect to see so much of you,” he said with a devilish grin.

      Kate, of course, said nothing. What could she say to that? She settled for fixing him with a seething glare.

      A waltz struck up and Ben moved a step closer.

      “Do you have permission to waltz?” he asked as he placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her onto the dance floor.

      “No,” she lied baldly.

      “Liar.”

      Before she knew what was happening, before she had a chance to refuse further, he was escorting her onto the ballroom floor, so thick with dancing couples that there was no room for escape.

      She didn’t know what to do but dance. To balk now would only make people stare—even more than they already were. Kate was keenly aware of the fact that people had begun to watch them from the very moment that Charlotte had left them alone together. She could feel every eye turned their way and knew that the gossip had started. She didn’t know what they were saying, but she could count on the fact that it wasn’t complimentary. Ben was simply too scandalous, and the way he was looking at her…

      “Are you always this clumsy on the dance floor?” he asked as Kate, distracted, stepped squarely on his toe. “These are new shoes.”

      “If you’d given me the chance, I would have told you I didn’t want to dance with you. And is it necessary to stand so close?” she retorted, annoyed into speech.

      “Don’t fuss, love,” he said, holding her even tighter. “You’ll only cause a scene.”

      Kate bit her tongue, at least for the time being. He clearly didn’t care if she caused a scene or not. From what she could gather from the gossips and from what her brother casually let slip, he was used to scandal. Arguing with him would only lead to embarrassment, and protesting his proximity would just bring him closer.

      “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, more amused at her discomfort than interested in her answer.

      “I was,” she answered curtly.

      At this, Ben laughed outright, although he obligingly stifled his laughter as heads turned in their direction and Kate reddened.

      He changed his approach. “You know, I was hoping to have a few words with you this evening. To make peace, in fact.”

      She raised a slender brow, and he continued. “You see, I suspect that you’re angry with me—”

      “Whatever gave you that idea?”

      “—and I’m not used to making women angry. So an apology is in order.”

      Kate blinked in surprise. This was the last thing she had expected. In fact, she had assumed that he would be angry with her, not the other way around.

      “You’re sorry, then?” she asked tentatively.

      “Somewhat.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘somewhat’?”

      “Well,” he answered, spinning her around, “I suppose I shouldn’t have forced you to have a drink with me last night, but I’m not sorry. And I shouldn’t have teased you so much, but I’m not sorry. And,” he said, his amber eyes wandering over her face, “I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I’m definitely not sorry.”

      “Oh?” She didn’t know how she managed that. Her breath tripped in her throat, and she felt like she was melting beneath his gaze.

      “But I am sorry that I told you to leave. That, sweetheart, was a real pity.”

      With this, he let her go, bowed, turned and walked away.

      For a moment Kate just stood there, trying to recover her composure. She’d been so focused on Ben during the waltz that she’d lost track of what was happening around her. Slowly, she realized that the music had ended, that they were no longer dancing, that they had stopped dancing some time ago. Oh, God. How long had the waltz been over? How long had she been standing there?

      She turned around, trying to gather her bearings and look as if she weren’t completely flustered. Sometime in the course of their dance, he had maneuvered her back to Charlotte, who was standing along the wall with a small group of friends. They were all staring, although they tactfully averted their eyes once Kate became aware that she was the center of so much attention.

       Chapter Four

       “C ould you pay attention,