Page 106 of The Music of Love

Stacy watched his sister walk away and slid his hand down Portia’s back until it rested at the base of her spine. Her sharp intake of breath sent blood rushing to his groin. The mauve silk was thin and he could not resist sliding his hand lower, until it rested on the generous swell of her bottom. Her cheekbones stained a delicate rose and a flare of possessive heat churned in his gut at the way her body responded to his touch. He should have said to hell with this bloody ball and taken her to his bed. They could have made love and he could have left Kitty, Robert, and Robert’s scheming wife to sort out their own problems.

But instead he’d behaved like a responsible adult and now it would be hours and hours before he could hold her, soothe her . . . be inside her delicious body. He needed to stop thinking about it before he embarrassed them both in public.

Of course he’d have to tell her about Kitty first—an unpleasant conversation—not about her connection to Robert, but certainly about their friendship. Now that he knew Portia better, he could not relish introducing her to a former lover.

Thoughts of that discussion were enough to stop the pleasurable sensation in his groin.

“Would you like something to drink, Portia?”

“Perhaps a glass of lemonade.”

“I will return before you know it.” He headed for the drinks table and poured a lemonade for Portia and small glass of wine for himself. He surveyed the room for Robert, whom he’d hoped to pull aside for a few moments before they all sat down to dinner. Even if they only—

“Good evening, Mr. Harrington,” the viscountess’s purr came from his other side and he turned. Stacy had to admit his brother’s wife was a beautiful woman. Even so, he could not understand how Robert had been persuaded to marry her. She was cold, untouchable, and more than a little devious. And he was going to get to the bottom of her invitation to Kitty before this bloody visit was over.

Stacy took her proffered hand and bowed over it. “Good evening, my lady, you look lovely. Something to drink?” Her smile was odd—almost flirtatious—as though he’d just asked to put his hand up her skirt.

“Nothing for me, thank you.” She turned from the table and swept the room as she fingered the hideous diamond choker around her neck. Her décolletage was so low he thought he could see the top of her areolae.

“That is an impressive necklace.”

Her throaty chuckle held no warmth. “It belonged to the earl’s first wife, a woman endowed with more money than breeding, I’m afraid.”

Stacy frowned at the distasteful comment.

She smiled, as if he’d spoken out loud. “One could not say the same about your mother, of course.”

“I know very little about my mother.” He did not care to discuss his family, or anything else, with such a venomous person.

“You look very like her, more so than Pendleton. Your mother was a beautiful woman.”

Stacy’s eyebrows rose. Was she flirting with him?

Robert entered the ballroom just then, spotted Stacy, and headed in his direction. Whatever his sister-in-law was up to, Stacy could only hope Robert’s arrival would put a stop to it.

“Good evening Stacy, Rowena.” The look he gave his wife was markedly colder than the one he bestowed on Stacy. He poured himself a hefty brandy and pointedly ignored his wife.

Stacy glanced across to where Portia stood, wishing he were beside her right now. She was talking to a young couple who’d gone to the picnic today. The door behind Portia opened and Kitty entered. It wasn’t his imagination that the conversation in the room briefly stuttered. Robert stopped in the process of drinking; the rim of the glass resting against his lower lip, as if he’d lost the strength to tip the liquid into his mouth.

Stacy couldn’t help being amused by how Kitty drew every eye in the room, her beauty was like a flame. She might appear magnificent in her emerald gown—which looked as if it had been stitched to her body—but he could see she was nervous. Stacy knew she’d likely donned her garment like battle armor. The question was, just who would she have to do battle with?

Kitty glanced around the room before going to stand beside Portia, who—after a brief look of surprise—smiled and introduced her to the others beside her. Stacy was proud of his wife for the kindness she was showing Kitty. Most of the other female guests were glaring at the beautiful woman as if she were a serpent that had slithered through a crack in the door.

He shot a look at Robert. His brother had finally completed the action of drinking. In fact, his glass was empty. The viscountess was also looking at Kitty and when her eyes swiveled from the other woman to her husband Stacy inhaled sharply at the raw hatred he saw. His brother did not notice. In fact, Robert looked as though he’d forgotten everyone’s existence but one. He set the glass blindly on the table and started toward Kitty like a sleepwalker.

Lady Pendleton’s eyes sank into her husband’s back like pale, lethal blades.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lady.” Stacy took long strides to reach Portia and Kitty before Robert could do anything foolish—like try to take Kitty into dinner. The gorgeous redhead might look strong, but Stacy knew she was hanging on to her sanity by a thread.

“Here you are, darling.” Stacy pushed the glass into Portia’s hand and turned to Kitty. “Kitty, you look smashing. Will you allow me to accompany you into dinner?”

He turned to give Portia a reassuring smile, but her face had hardened into the polite mask he recognized too well.

Blast and damn! She couldn’t be jealous, could she—not after their conversation less than twenty-four hours ago? He reached for her elbow and leaned toward her but she turned away to answer the young man on her other side, pulling her arm from his grasp.

Yes, she is angry. Stacy wanted to go after her but Robert had come around Stacy and stopped in front of Kitty, looking like a man who’d been struck between the eyes with a mallet.

“Kitty.” The single word was ragged, as though it had been dragged over rocks before escaping his mouth. “I need—”