Lilah rarely drank wine of any sort, but she was too thirsty not to take a great gulp of it. It fizzed in her mouth, tingling and cool, yet with its own delicious sting as well, and she drank the rest of it. Con’s eyebrows shot up.
“Careful. I can’t have you getting foxed on me.” He plucked the empty glass from her hand and set it aside.
“I won’t. It’s just so hot in here.”
Con glanced toward the French doors, standing open to the terrace, then back to her. “Dare I suggest we step outside? I assure you I won’t try to lure you into the garden this time.”
Lilah cast him a speaking glance and took his arm, turning toward the open doors. “One can only wonder why you did so the first time, considering that you think I’m such a prig.”
He chuckled and took a sip from his glass. “I am, as you have pointed out, entirely too impulsive.”
“That’s no answer.” But Lilah was feeling too companionable at the moment to pursue the subject. Her customary annoyance with Con had vanished with the waltz.
They strolled the length of the terrace, now and then passing another couple doing the same. Lilah lifted her flushed face to the cool night air. She began to hum the waltz beneath her breath, wishing she could dance along the terrace. She smiled to herself at the idea of causing such a commotion. Con’s jaw would drop. She had to press her lips together tightly to hold back a giggle.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have gulped down that glass of champagne. It wasn’t like her. Or perhaps it had been the dance, whirling around the room in Con Moreland’s arms. That, too, had been unlike her. Mostly likely it was because she was with Con; there was something about him that encouraged misbehavior.
He said inappropriate things that made her laugh. His smile, his wink, that twinkle in his eye just before he did or said something outrageous, enticed one to go along with him. If he had been a woman, people would have termed him a temptress. She wasn’t sure what one called such a man. Dangerous came to mind.
She glanced up at Con, so close beside her she could feel the warmth of his body. As if sensing her gaze, he turned his head. With only the mellow light streaming from the windows of the ballroom behind them, Con’s face was half-shadowed, his eyes dark. But the dimness could not hide how handsome he was—the firm chin and square jaw, the way his mouth curved up slightly, as if he was about to break into a grin.
It was odd how much he looked like his twin, yet she had never felt a twinge of attraction to Alex. When she first met Con’s brother, she had realized almost immediately that he was not Con. There had been no spark running along her nerves, no tightening of her stomach. Alex was easy to talk to; with Con, Lilah always felt as if she needed to be on her guard.
If she wasn’t careful, she might stumble. And Lilah was a person who liked her feet firmly planted on the ground. It was disconcerting to have this uncertainty. It was even more alarming that it also excited her. Surely that was not how it ought to be.
They reached the end of the walkway and turned to look out over the garden below. Delicate paper lanterns lit the garden paths, but up here on the terrace, they were deep in shadow. Con set his glass on the wide stone balustrade and leaned casually against a column, his eyes on Lilah rather than the view.
Lilah’s pulse picked up. It was dim and secluded here, the occasional sound of a voice a distant background. She remembered the other time she had stood on a terrace with Con, almost breathless with a volatile combination of excitement, anxiety and a guilty certainty that her aunt would not approve.
“Tell me, truly,” Lilah said impulsively, “that night… Why did you ask me to dance, much less stroll in the garden with you? I understand your doing so tonight—I’m your new sister-in-law’s friend, and you must be polite. But why did you ask me to dance back then?”
“Have you looked in a mirror?” Con countered.
“You were swept away by my beauty?” Lilah cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “There were dozens of pretty young girls there, and I would wager I am not the sort you normally dance with. Much less take out on the terrace with ulterior motives.”
“My motives weren’t ulterior. I thought they were quite straightforward.”
Lilah was reminded why she found him irritating. She turned away, fixing her eyes on the flowers and shrubs below. “Was it—did you do it because I was newly out? Because you thought I would be so naive I wouldn’t realize I was risking my reputation?”
“No!” Con’s voice was filled with affront and astonishment. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t ask you to dance because I thought I could trick you into anything. Do you really think that badly of me?”
Lilah relaxed, surprised at how relieved she was by his indignant response. “No. Well, perhaps I did wonder a bit. Afterward.” When he never approached her again.
“I asked you to dance because I wanted to waltz with you. I asked you out on the terrace to spend more time with you without the noise of the party. And I asked you to take a stroll through the garden because…very well, I did hope I might get a chance to kiss you. But I didn’t want to kiss you because you were the low-hanging fruit on a tree.”
“Or to add another girl to your collection?”
“My collection!” Con goggled at her. “What the devil do you take me for? I don’t have a collection. I’m not some rogue out seducing young ladies. Good Lord, Lilah, but you are a suspicious woman.”
“It’s not absurd to suspect that,” she retorted. “You find me rigid, prim and proper.”
“You forgot judgmental.”
“Oh, yes, sorry—and judgmental.” She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “So why would you want to dance with such a woman?”
“If you must know, it was because you were wearing lilac stockings.”
“What?” Lilah stared at him.
He shrugged and turned away, now the one to keep his eyes on the view. “You asked.”
“But why… How…”
“It’s nice to know I can render you speechless.”
“That’s absurd. How could you know what color stockings I had on? I don’t even remember what color they were.”
“Clearly the sight of them made more of an impression on me than it did on you.” Con glanced back at her. “I was standing at the foot of the stairs when you came in. You were so terribly prim and proper, all in maidenly white, modestly covered to your neck, your face blankly polite, your hair braided and curled into a knot like a governess, your chaperone glued to your side. I thought, there’s a beauty, but she looks an utter bore.”
“How kind of you,” Lilah said drily.
“Then you climbed the stairs, lifting your skirt to keep from stepping on it, and I saw your ankles. You were wearing bright lilac stockings. And I thought, there’s more to her than meets the eye.” He paused, considering. “Besides, you have lovely ankles.”
Lilah gaped at him, then began to laugh. His reasoning was so
