Lover Be Mine: A Legendary Lovers Novel (2 page)

“There is no official betrothal yet,” Skye countered. “You must act now, Jack, and
rescue Miss Fortin from a loveless union before it is too late. Once she is
affianced to the duke, she cannot honorably fall in love with
you
.”

“Her honor or lack of it is hardly my concern,” Jack replied, unswayed.

“Just say you will meet her,” Kate begged.

He’d held out until two days ago, when Skye cornered him as he left his house just
after dawn. He was late for a curricle race, his head aching from an overindulgence
of brandy the previous evening.

Completely ignoring his professed desire to be rid of her, Skye had refused to leave
until she’d wrung a promise from him to meet Miss Fortin. “You know I won’t give up,
Jack,” she said sweetly, “so you might as well surrender.”

For his own peace and self-preservation, he’d yielded, knowing his female relatives
would hound him relentlessly otherwise.

The masquerade had seemed the ideal opportunity to conduct his surveillance, since
he could employ anonymity to contrive an encounter with Miss Fortin and judge her
for himself. The unmasking was not scheduled until midnight, and by then he would
be long gone.

He’d come tonight intending to prove Kate’s ludicrous theory wrong. Regrettably, however,
his plan had been hurled off course by the beauty herself, particularly her lovely
smile. There was a radiance about her that captivated and drew Jack in wholly against
his wishes.

At least he now understood why a wealthy widowed duke could be smitten enough to consider
offering matrimony to a much younger commoner with no fortune.

Her skin was flawless ivory, her lips full and ripe, Jack noted. He would relish kissing
those luscious lips; indeed, he would relish doing much more than simply kiss Miss
Fortin.

For a moment he let his imagination run riot. He could well envision the pleasure
of bedding her, feeling her go wild beneath him, matching her in the throes of passion.…

But
matrimony
? Jack curbed the urge to shudder.
God forbid
.

The notion that Sophie Fortin, or any woman, might be his potential soul mate was
laughable. He had no intention of being ensnared in a courtship, let alone marriage.
And yet she was definitely too tantalizing to resist pursuing.

The dance ended just then, and Miss Fortin’s partner of the moment bowed and took
his leave of her. Alone, she glanced over her shoulder and caught Jack watching her
from a corner of the gardens.

Her gaze stayed on him for a long heartbeat. Then, instead of turning away out of
shyness or embarrassment, she surprised him by suddenly moving his way.

Upon reaching him, she peered up into his mask, trying to see his eyes. “Do I know
you, sir? I penned the invitations for my Aunt Eunice, and I don’t recall anyone of
your description on the guest list.”

Although his pirate costume couldn’t disguise his height or athletic build, Jack suspected
his identity was safe, since his mask covered the better part of his face and his
headscarf mostly concealed his mane of black hair.

“No, we have not met before, Miss Fortin,” he answered, amused by her directness.
Baldly confronting
a stranger was something only the females in his family would do.

“Then would you care to explain why you have been watching me these past twenty minutes
or more?”

Her boldness impressed him, but he parried her question with his habitual facile charm.
“Is it unreasonable for a man to enjoy watching a beautiful young lady?”

In response to his flattery, she gave a light, skeptical laugh and glanced down at
the cutlass he wore sashed at his waist. “Am I in any danger? Pirates are known to
take hostages for ransom and carry away maidens for their own wicked purposes.”

“If memory serves, I haven’t ravished any fair maidens since Tuesday last.”

Her enchanting smile reappeared, much to his pleasure, although whatever reply she
would have made was interrupted by her unlikely suitor, the Duke of Dunmore.

“There you are, my dear,” Dunmore said in a fond tone. “You promised me your hand
for the next set of dances, remember?”

Her purported suitor, Jack observed, had fairly handsome features but thinning hair
that was graying at the temples. In his mid-forties, the duke was also taller than
average, but his aristocratic bearing was marred by his slight paunch.

After a brief hesitation, Miss Fortin answered with a gracious smile. “Yes, of course
I remember, your grace.”

Seeing that entrancing smile bestowed on the nobleman, Jack felt an inexplicable pang
of jealousy. Absurd,
since he had no claim to Miss Fortin’s affections whatsoever.

The duke might have felt a touch of jealousy as well, for he cast Jack a sharp look
before offering the lady his arm.

“Who was that pirate fellow?” Dunmore asked as he led her away.

“I am not certain,” Jack heard her say as they took their positions on the grass dance
floor.

When the music began for a waltz, Jack watched their progress with bemusement, wondering
what Miss Fortin saw in the Duke of Dunmore other than his illustrious title and fortune.

They did not appear to be well-matched as dance partners, for Dunmore was remarkably
uncoordinated and kept treading upon her toes. Her expression remained serene until
the third time he ground down on her foot, and then she couldn’t conceal a grimace.

Dunmore seemed to realize he had hurt her, for he halted in his tracks and began apologizing
profusely. “My dear, pray forgive my clumsiness. I fear I cannot keep up with these
younger chaps.”

Miss Fortin forced a smile. “It is no matter, your grace. There are all manner of
people who find the waltz difficult to negotiate since it is so new. But perhaps we
should not attempt it any longer?”

When Dunmore readily agreed, they moved back to the sidelines and stood conversing
until the dance ended. A short while later, she excused herself.

When she turned toward the house, Jack could see her struggling to hide her limp.
She was putting on a game face but was clearly in real pain.

With some thought of helping her, he followed her inside in time to see her hobble
down a corridor and slip through a doorway. Curious as to what she was about, he pursued
her.

She had taken refuge in the library, of all places, Jack realized upon pausing at
the threshold. A table lamp had been lit, no doubt for the convenience of the ball
guests, and Jack watched as Miss Fortin sank gratefully onto the sofa nearest the
lamp.

Bending down, she raised her skirts to her knees, then removed her left dancing slipper
and stocking. She muttered something inaudible before taking off her mask, perhaps
the better to see as she examined her aching toes.

When she grimaced again, Jack stepped forward. “May I be of assistance, Miss Fortin?”

She gave a start of surprise and eyed him warily as he crossed the room to her. Without
waiting for her agreement, Jack knelt before her and took her bare foot in his hands.

“Allow me,” he said, ignoring her sharply indrawn breath at his boldness.

Her smallest toe was bleeding, he could see. “Does it hurt to bend it?” he asked,
gently prodding.

“Yes, but not excruciatingly so.”

“Then it is only bruised, not broken,” he pronounced. “It should heal in a week or
so. Trust me, I speak from experience, having been injured by many an iron-shod hoof
in my youth.”

Finding the end of his waist sash, he tore off a strip of fabric and used the makeshift
handkerchief to blot the blood on her toe.

“You can wrap this piece of cloth around your
wound until you are able to fashion a proper bandage.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

At her genuine expression of appreciation, Jack made the mistake of looking up.

She had stunning eyes, he realized. Luminous and thickly lashed. A dark shade of blue
that was almost violet.

Who had violet eyes? Jack thought irritably, struggling to resist her allure. This
near, she was even more of an enchantress than he first realized, and his body reacted
accordingly. The stab of desire that shot through him was as powerful as any he could
remember.

In self-defense, he summoned a gruff voice. “Why did you allow Dunmore to trample
your feet and half cripple you?” he demanded.

She had frozen at his nearness, but she looked taken aback by his inquiry. “I was
being courteous, if you must know. It would have been unkind to point out his shortcomings.
Dunmore cannot help it if he is a terrible dancer. Some people are cursed with two
left feet.”

“I suppose his rank and fortune can excuse myriad deficiencies,” Jack said sardonically,
intent on exposing her true motivation. “Isn’t that the chief reason for your compassion?
And why you wish to marry him?”

She stared at him. “Not at all. The duke is actually a very kind man. I didn’t wish
to hurt his feelings.”

At Jack’s skeptical silence, her gaze narrowed. “Why is it any of your concern?” When
he didn’t answer,
she made a demand of her own. “Who
are
you?”

Jack reached up to remove his own mask.

“
You
,” she exclaimed, obviously recognizing him. Oddly enough, she seemed relieved to
learn his identity, rather than apprehensive as he’d expected. She settled back on
the sofa and regarded him thoughtfully.

“I gather you know me?” he asked.

“Everyone knows of the scandalous Lord Jack Wilde.”

“But we have never met? I think I would remember you, Miss Fortin.”

“No, we have never met directly. I saw you at the Perrys’ ball earlier in the season,
but you never noticed me.”

“I cannot imagine why,” he said honestly.

“Perhaps because I was dressed in white. You avoid debutantes like the plague.”

He grinned at that. “Ordinarily, yes.”

“I avoided you that particular night as well, since I had been warned about you.”
When his eyebrow lifted, she expounded. “Our families have been locked in a blood
feud for three generations, remember?”

“Ah, yes, the feud,” Jack said. His great-uncle had killed her great-grandfather in
a duel over a woman, and then fled to the American Colonies with the prize.

“I always regretted that prohibition,” Miss Fortin said wistfully. “I would have enjoyed
knowing Lady Katharine and Lady Skye, but I was forbidden to associate with them.”

His mouth curved. “Do you always do as you are bid?”

She sidestepped the question. “Do you
never
do as you are bid? No, you needn’t answer. From all reports, you live to break rules.”

“What reports have you been heeding?”

“Oh, the gossip about you is universal. You are said to be an outrageously irreverent
rakehell who can charm the birds from the trees—at least female birds. If only half
the stories are true, I should fear for my virtue.” As if suddenly becoming aware
of the impropriety of the situation, she smoothed her skirts down over her knees.
“I should not even be speaking to you now.”

“So do you mean to run away screaming?”

Her luminous eyes sparked with an appealing levity. “No. I have been a dutiful daughter
all evening. And I am curious to know why you are speaking to
me
. Why are you here at my aunt’s ball, my lord? What do you want?”

I want you, lovely lady
, came the unbidden thought.

His fierce attraction boded ill for his plan to dislike her, Jack acknowledged, laughing
inwardly at the irony, but all his possessive male instincts were now keenly awake.

Deciding the truth was his best defense, he fixed his gaze on her luscious mouth.
“I am here because I promised my cousin I would kiss you.”

Several heartbeats passed before she blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Did you not hear me?”

“Oh, I heard you. I just could not believe you were serious.” Her head tilted to one
side. “Why would you promise such a thing? Was it a dare?”

“No.”

“Then are you trying to win a wager? Did you bet that you could seduce me?”

If he’d had some thought of discomposing her with his bald declaration, it wasn’t
working, Jack noted. Sophie Fortin wasn’t at all intimidated by him. “My promise has
nothing to do with any wager.”

“I confess skepticism,” she remarked, still amused. “You are said to wager on almost
anything.”

Wanting to regain the upper hand in their conversation, Jack parried her comment.
“Should I be flattered that you know so much about me?”

“Probably not, since much of my knowledge is not good. You are nearly thirty years
old but still act the reckless young buck half the time. You scandalize the ton monthly,
if not more often.”

He gave a mock wince. “It pains me to agree.”

“Which of your cousins secured your promise to try and kiss me?”

“Skye, but Katharine had a part in it also.”

“Indeed? Why ever would they wish you to attempt it?”

Jack’s lips twitched at her inquisitiveness. “They are both bent on matchmaking.”

Her blue eyes widened at that. “Do tell.”

“It is a long story.”

Miss Fortin glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. “I fear I don’t have time for
a long story. Perhaps you could just summarize the plot for me?”

“Do you mind if I get off my knees?” Without waiting for her permission, Jack rose
and settled on the sofa beside her, then reluctantly offered his explanation. “Kate
has a theory about the Wilde cousins needing to imitate the world’s greatest lovers
in order
to find our one true mates. You are supposed to be Juliet to my Romeo.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “This grows more intriguing by the moment.”

Jack made a face. “I don’t consider it ‘intriguing’ that she thinks you and I might
suit.”

She stared at him. “Suit—as in matrimony? Surely she is jesting.”

“If you think that, you don’t know Kate,” he said dryly.

“Then she is daft.”

“My sentiments exactly. Her premise is utterly demented.”