She froze. Her eyes widened just a fraction, and she thought she might have forgotten how to breathe, for she was suddenly, unexplainably, feeling terribly light-headed.
He was the most incredibly handsome man she had ever seen. He was a giant of a man, lean, yet muscular at the same time, with broad shoulders and dark, dark hair. His skin was bronzed in color, certainly achieved by spending long days out in the sun, and his eyes, dear God, his eyes were the most beguiling color. They were a deep, rich, chocolate brown. There were creases at the corners, wonderful little creases, probably caused from squinting against the sun.
He didn't look like the sort who laughed much. He didn't appear to be the kind of man you'd want to meet up with on a dark, deserted corner either or spend the rest of your life with . . . Oh, God, what had she done?
Taylor reached up and snatched Alison's fan out of her hand. Before her friend could protest, she began to furiously wave the thing in front of her face. Lord, but it had gone warm in here.
Wouldn't it be outrageous if she fainted at his feet? He'd probably step over her on his way to the doors. Taylor shook her head. She really had to get hold of her thoughts and her composure, she decided. She could feel herself blushing. How ridiculous, she thought. She had nothing to feel embarrassed about. It was the heat, she told herself. Why, it was as hot as purgatory now.
Was the giant walking toward her the one with the godawful reputation? Lord, she hoped not. Just as soon as she recovered her wits, Taylor was going to ask Constance why her mama didn't like him. She wished she'd paid more attention to the conversation. Hadn't Constance said he'd taken a different woman to his bed every night this past week? She'd ask Constance that question, too, along with at least a hundred more, for she suddenly wanted to know all about the mysterious stranger.
Dear God, it was a little late for questions, wasn't it? Heaven help her, she was losing her mind. She certainly wasn't thinking coherent thoughts now. It was probably all his fault. His gaze, after all, was fully directed on her. It was unnerving, penetrating. No wonder she was rattled. And so rudely undisciplined, she silently added. She couldn't stop staring at him. She wondered if her mouth were gaping open. She hoped it wasn't but doubted she could do anything about it even if it were. No matter, she told herself. The fan would hide most of her face.
Alison grabbed her fan back. Taylor felt as though her gown had just been ripped off her. She felt exposed, but only for a second or two. Then she straightened her shoulders, slapped a smile on her face, and tried to remember how to act like a lady.
Oh, yes, he was handsome all right. She could barely catch her breath just looking at him. She wanted to sigh in appreciation. She didn't dare.
Taylor understood the reason behind her bizarre reaction to the man. He was her dream-come-true, for he reminded her of one of her mountain men. It was as though he'd stepped out of one of her dime novels. After reading so many stories about Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone, she had begun to think of both men as relatives from the past who belonged to her. There wasn't any harm in that romantic notion, was there? Surely no one else fantasized about the American frontiersmen the way she did. When she was younger, she constantly daydreamed about what life would have been like if she'd been married to one of those adventurous men. The Indians, or rather the savages as they were called in the stories, were reported to kill a man, then cut his scalp away to use as a trophy proving their prowess. Both Boone and Crockett had fought hundreds of Indians. Neither man had been scalped, however, and did in fact befriend the savages.
Taylor started shivering. The man scaring goosebumps on her arms wouldn't have any difficulty frightening the scalps off the Indians, she decided. Why, his stare was piercing enough to make her hair stand on end. He was a handsome devil, all right, but there was also an air of danger about him. And power, she thought. This one didn't look like he would be afraid of anything or be at all vulnerable to attack. From his appearance alone, she judged him to be more than capable of protecting his property.
And the babies, she thought. He would protect the babies.
Wasn't that all that really mattered? His reputation shouldn't concern her and neither should her bizarre reaction to him. For her purposes, he was more than adequate. He was perfect.
She let out a sigh. Her friends echoed the sound. They were obviously as mesmerized by the man as she was.
William and Lucas crossed the ballroom from different angles, yet they both reached Taylor at the same time. They stood no more than three feet apart. William was on her left side and Lucas was on her right.
William was the first to speak. His voice held a note of anger. “Taylor, I want a word in private with you.”
“You aren't going anywhere alone with her,” his wife snapped from behind.
Taylor ignored both William and Jane. Her head was tilted all the way back so she could keep her gaze firmly directed on the man who had stolen her every logical thought. She was desperately trying not to be afraid of him. He did have the most beautiful eyes.
“You're much taller than I remember.”
The words came out in a bare whisper. Lucas smiled. Her voice appealed to him. It was throaty, soft, damned arousing.
“You're much prettier than I remember.”
Constance was right. He did have an adorable drawl in his voice.
Chaos whirled around her. Everyone but Taylor and Lucas was suddenly talking at once. Constance and Jennifer were demanding to know when Taylor had met the stranger, Alison was begging for an introduction, William was arguing with his wife, and Hampton and Morris were loudly debating the possibility that Taylor might have already been introduced to the American, and how was that possible? Everyone knew Taylor had been in Scotland for the past several weeks, recovering from
the humiliation,
and when she was called back to London, she stayed cloistered with her ailing grandmother. When would she have had time to meet Lucas?
Taylor couldn't keep up with all the conversations going on around her. She was suddenly feeling quite exhilarated, however. The tightness inside her chest vanished. The chains binding her to England and to duty were being ripped away. She was going to be free. She knew that when she walked out of the ballroom, she would walk away from all the restrictions and responsibilities associated with England's rigid society.
She also knew she would never come back. She would never have to see her uncle Malcolm again, never have to look him in the eye and pretend she didn't know about the atrocity he'd committed, never ever have to speak a civil word to him. She would never have to suffer Jane's presence or cruelty again either, though that was certainly minor in comparison to her uncle's sins, and she would never again have to feel ashamed or humiliated.
Taylor let out another sigh. Freedom was just a few steps away.
“Is it almost midnight, sir?”
She blurted out her question, her eagerness sinfully evident. He gave her a quick nod in response. “We can leave now.”
Everyone started pulling on her then. “Leave? Taylor, where is it you think you're going?” Constance demanded to know.
“Is she leaving with him?” Jennifer asked with a wave of her hand in Lucas's direction. “She shouldn't do that, should she? What will people think?”
“Exactly when and where did you two meet?” Hampton asked.
“They couldn't have met before,” Morris stubbornly insisted.
“You aren't going anywhere with him,” William announced in a near shout so he'd be heard. He was so angry, the veins in the sides of his neck stood out. His complexion turned a splotchy, ugly red. “You're coming with me, Taylor. I demand a word in private with you. This blackguard you're lowering yourself to speak to is actually . . .”
Alison interrupted him. “Do be quiet, William. Taylor, darling, please introduce me to this gentleman.”
William wasn't about to be deterred. He reached out to take hold of Taylor's arm. Lucas's command stopped him. It was whisper soft, yet chilling all the same.
“I wouldn't touch her if I were you.”
He hadn't raised his voice, and his tone was actually quite mild, but the warning was there all the same, and William reacted as though Lucas had roared the command. He took a quick step back. It was probably an instinctive reaction, Taylor thought, but it was still quite telling. William was actually afraid of the man.
Jane let out a sharp gasp. “Keep Taylor here, William, while I go and fetch Father. He'll know what to do.” She glared up at Lucas when she added, “My husband might be intimidated by you, but my father won't be. He's Taylor's guardian.”
Lucas gave Jane as much attention as he would a gnat flying by. He showed absolutely no reaction to her remarks and didn't even bother to glance her way.
Taylor decided to follow his example. She refused to look at her cousin when she gave her denial. “Your father is not my guardian.”
“He will be,” Jane boasted. “Just as soon as the old lady dies. You'll be sorry then, Taylor. Father's going to lock you away before you can do or say anything further to disgrace us. Why, everyone knows you're in need of a keeper.”
Morris and Hampton were the first two to rush to Taylor's defense. “You're the disgraceful one, Jane Merritt,” Hampton fairly shouted. He lowered his voice when he added, “Haven't you wondered why neither you nor William has received any invitations to the affairs this season? You have both been marked off all the lists,” he added with a nod.
“The only reason you were invited tonight is because you received the invite a good week before you eloped. You've done yourself in this time,” Morris snapped. “Acting like a trollop with Taylor's fiance. Tell me this. Are you really carrying William's child or did you make that up to trap him?”
“How dare you slander my character,” Jane cried out. She slapped her husband on his shoulder to gain his attention. “William, aren't you going to defend my honor?”
Her husband didn't say a word. His full attention was focused on Taylor.
“Lady Taylor isn't mad or crazed, but you are if you believe she's done anything wrong. You're despicable, Jane. Oh, yes,” Morris sputtered with indignation. “You and William deserve each other. I pray the two of you will get exactly what you deserve.”
The war with words soon jumped to shouts, then shoves. Taylor found it impossible to keep up with who was giving what insults. Alison started pulling on her arm again, demanding her attention, and Constance was diligently poking her in the shoulder from behind with the plea that she please turn around and explain what was going on. Jennifer, the peacemaker in the crowd, was trying to get all of them to lower their voices.
Taylor became quite frazzled in no time at all. She turned to her left to tell William she had no intention of going anywhere with him but before she could get the words out of her mouth, Alison pulled on her arm again to gain her attention, and Taylor turned back to her. Constance wasn't about to be ignored, however, and once again prodded her from behind.
Taylor's head felt as though it were spinning. She glanced up at her escort to see how he was reacting to the fiasco and was quite astonished by the expression on his face.
The man looked bored. She wondered how he could remain so unaffected by the slander William was spewing about him. William was going on and on about his black character when Lucas reached into his pocket, pulled out his timepiece, and flipped open the latch to check the time.
Then William called Lucas a bastard. Alison, Jennifer, and Constance let out loud gasps, almost in perfect unison. Taylor waited for her escort to defend himself. A good fifteen seconds passed before she realized he wasn't going to do or say anything.
She suddenly became his champion. William repeated the blasphemous charge again. Taylor was outraged. She turned to Alison, snatched her fan out of her hand, then turned back to William. Before he had a glimmer of her intent, she smacked him across his face with the fan, then turned back to Alison.
“Thank you,” she said as she handed the fan back to her friend.
Alison's mouth was gaping open. Taylor's shoulders slumped. She detested making a scene, for it really wasn't ladylike, but there came a time when proper behavior had to be set aside.
William was slow to understand that Taylor had reached her limit. “If you'll only listen to me,” he demanded. “You'll realize I speak the truth. He's nothing but a . . .”
Taylor grabbed Alison's fan again. She turned to confront William once again.
“If you say one more slanderous word, I swear I'll poke your eye out.”
“Taylor, whatever has come over you?” Alison whispered.
Taylor tossed the fan in her friend's direction. She turned her gaze to her escort.
“May we please leave, sir?”
She sounded desperate. She didn't care. Lucas smiled in reaction. “Yes,” he answered. “It's past midnight.”
She let out a long sigh. Lucas nodded to Morris and Hampton, then started for the entrance. He passed Taylor, didn't pause, but clasped hold of her hand and continued right along. His stride was long, purposeful. She didn't resist. She turned around and let herself be pulled along, and Lord, she was actually smiling now.
Hampton's shout made Lucas stop on the top step. “Will she be safe with you?”
He should have been insulted by the question. Yet the concern he heard in Hampton's voice overrode his initial irritation. It was a logical question, he decided, given the fact that the Englishman didn't know him well at all.