Georgiana and Giovanni’s tempestuous romance during The Beast Curse.

1

His first evening in Calatini, Giovanni settled in the forward seat of the Varkhoran embassy’s finest carriage with his mottled-brown draklizard Striker on his right shoulder and his bronze-hilted saber on his left hip like always. Not letting himself touch his saber, he forced himself to remain relaxed and still while offering Ambassador and Mrs. Rossi both across from him the bland smile Father had taught him to use at court. He said in a light voice that revealed nothing of his request’s true importance, “After you introduce me to King Devon and Queen Kiera at tonight’s rout party, you should introduce me to all their councilors and their royal witch.”

He scrutinized the older Varkhoran couple, who’d lived in Calatini for over four decades, to determine if they’d heard gossip from contacts back home. But neither reacted to his mention of Calatini’s royal witch, so Father telling everyone about his daughter’s success here, which had so scandalized the Varkhoran court, had yet to reach the faraway Rossis. Fortunate. Giuliettanna, his much older sister who’d fled Varkhora twenty-one years ago and was now Calatini’s illustrious royal witch, was the sole person he was interested in meeting tonight, yet she’d no inkling of his arrival, and she might leave if she did given how she’d disappeared so completely.

Giovanni swallowed a sigh. He’d never have found Giuliettanna at all if not for the self-renewing continual kin spell he’d cast with Mother’s help nine years ago. To his and their parents’ joy, his kin spell had finally located Giuliettanna just after this Plantfete, so he’d decided to travel to Calatini to heal the divide unbalancing their family. But his kin spell had suddenly quit working last month despite multiple attempts to reactivate it. Had Giuliettanna noticed his spell and disappeared again? Or had something worse happened? He and his parents would be devastated if his sister had died.

His tone as servile as his wife’s overnice smile, Ambassador Rossi inclined his head and replied, “I’ll gladly introduce you to the councilors who attend tonight, Lord Sabine, although I’m afraid Lady Juliet shall be impossible. A month ago, she left with the Duke of Oakmoor, one of Calatini’s councilors, to help him handle a private royal matter.”

Giovanni nearly frowned. So his kin spell had failed right when his sister and the duke left on their royal quest. That, not her death, doubtless explained its failure. Thank the Goddess. Please let Giuliettanna remain unscathed while handling that private royal matter with the Duke of Oakmoor.

He tensed, making Striker shift on his shoulder. Yet why must his sister’s companion be the Duke of Oakmoor? From the scrying Mother had done of the Calatinian court after they’d finally located Giuliettanna, the Duke of Oakmoor was the greatest rakehell in Ormas. Not that the suave duke would ever manage to seduce Giuliettanna considering their well-known dislike which had lasted for over a decade. But still.

Giovanni exhaled. And due to his long-lost sister’s royal quest, he’d not get to meet her tonight. Then once she returned at last, she might disappear again if she heard her younger brother was around. He gritted another bland smile for Ambassador and Mrs. Rossi. “When introducing me, please don’t mention that my father is the Duke of Appenninos and my cousins are King Alessandro and Queen Aurora.” That should delay Giuliettanna from realizing he was her brother since the gossip would likely focus on him being Varkhoran rather than his name and powerful relations.

Ambassador Rossi scowled. “But since you’ve no courtesy title, the Calatinians shall assume you’re a mere baron, not one of the most prominent heirs in Varkhora.”

Giovanni shrugged and smoothed his beard. It might be pleasant to be considered an ordinary lord for once. “My visit to Calatini isn’t an official one, and I don’t wish to intimidate Calatinian court.”

His wife’s pursed lips revealing her echoing disapproval, Ambassador Rossi muttered, “As you wish, Lord Sabine.”

At the Duke and Duchess of Linwick’s rout party, Ambassador Rossi escorted Giovanni straight to King Devon and Queen Kiera after greeting the Linwicks. Mrs. Rossi didn’t join them because “proper” Varkhoran ladies left politics and business to their male relatives, remaining ever demure and subservient. Giovanni swallowed another sigh. So insipid. ‘Twas probably why he’d never found a lady he could desire marrying. Yet as Father’s heir, ’twas his duty to marry. Perhaps one day he’d meet a strong lady like Mother or Giuliettanna that he could love. Although he might be even older than Father had been when he’d finally met Mother. Not ideal.

His greeting with Calatini’s king and queen went well. King Devon and Queen Kiera were warm yet obviously curious about why a Varkhoran lord was visiting a kingdom where women were equals, a state of affairs that upset most Varkhorans. Ambassador Rossi, for instance, treated the queen with formal civility, but he addressed most of his comments to the king. Yet despite their curiosity, King Devon and Queen Kiera graciously accepted Giovanni’s evasions about his reasons for visiting, although no doubt royal agents would be investigating him shortly. Opportune that no one in Calatini knew his true purpose for visiting. And to ensure the king and queen didn’t suspect anything, he carefully didn’t mention their royal witch even though he burned to know more about his sister’s life from those closest to her.

After they’d left King Devon and Queen Kiera, Ambassador Rossi introduced him to the eleven councilors attending the rout party as well as the countess acting for the Duke of Oakmoor during his absence. The introductions to the lords proceeded smoothly, yet the introductions to the three ladies were awkward at best, particularly Lady Ducharme who was Calatini’s Minister of Defense. Since none of the ladies were royal, Ambassador Rossi didn’t bother to cloak his disapproval—he barely glanced at the influential ladies, and his voice was stiff and almost cold when he addressed them. A shame that Ambassador Rossi still couldn’t accept women as equals even though he’d lived in Calatini for decades. Giovanni concealed a frown. Surely their ambassador’s prejudice wasn’t helping relations between Varkhora and Calatini. When he returned home, he must speak with King Alessandro and Queen Aurora about replacing Ambassador Rossi. Although finding another ambassador who didn’t share Ambassador Rossi’s prejudice might be difficult.

The final councilor Ambassador Rossi introduced Giovanni to was the elderly Duke of Osbourne, who was accompanied by his striking youngest daughter. As Giovanni greeted the duke, his gaze kept drifting to Lady Georgiana Laurent. Around his age, Lady Georgiana was gorgeous with exquisite alabaster skin, lustrous near-black hair, and rich brown eyes. And although she wore a demure smile, her chin was firm, and her gaze direct. His heart quickened. A strong lady who shrewdly concealed it with feminine modesty. One who didn’t approve of him from how her eyes faintly narrowed as she scrutinized him. Why?

Once they’d finished exchanging greetings, Giovanni warmly smiled at Lady Georgiana. She was the perfect puzzle to occupy him until Giuliettanna returned. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me later this evening, Lady Georgiana?”

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2

Her heart surging, Georgiana scrutinized the too handsome and too polite Lord Sabine from his mottled-brown draklizard on his right shoulder to his spartan evening clothes and bronze-hilted saber on his left hip. Varkhoran men, particularly lords, were known to despise strong ladies, especially those who outranked them. Ambassador Rossi could barely make himself to converse with the lady councilors or otherwise influential ladies like the Duchess of Childes, and when he did, he all but sneered at them. And court gossip said he’d outright refused to meet with the nightmara queen-heir Lady Moonbud when she’d been in Ormas to renew the Nightmara-Calatini Treaty last season because nightmara were matriarchal. Disgraceful.

Georgiana’s lips almost tightened. Yet from Lord Sabine’s behavior at the Linwicks’ rout party tonight, the younger Varkhoran was obviously much cleverer than Ambassador Rossi and realized that such chauvinism wouldn’t help him in Calatini. So he concealed it behind gracious talk, affable smiles, and feigned acceptance. All of which were enhanced by his boldly rugged looks that made Calatinian gentlemen appear dull. Close to her age, Lord Sabine possessed intense kahve-brown eyes, exotic olive skin, and inky black hair and a matching short beard covering his strong face. And from his fierce yet fluid movements, ’twas clear Lord Sabine was a marrow-deep warrior despite being a baron. Such a warrior, especially one from Varkhora, would definitely despise the gentler sex for possessing less physical prowess. All his warm politeness must be a lie. She’d not dance with a deceitful cad like that, even if he was the most handsome gentleman she’d ever met.

Lifting her chin ever so slightly, she sweetened her demure smile as she refused Lord Sabine’s invitation. “Dancing is better saved for balls or soirees, so I don’t intend to dance tonight.”

As Father eyed her askance because she loved dancing and rarely missed a chance to do so, Lord Sabine grinned at her and said, “How unfortunate for us gentlemen. We must settle for lesser partners since you refuse to dance.”

She stiffened. Was Lord Sabine mockingly implying that she was being overparticular? He couldn’t know that she was an accomplished dancer. Or was the Varkhoran attempting to flirt with her for some reason? Distasteful. She allowed her smile to turn saccharine. “‘Tis kind of you to say so when you’ve never seen me dance.”

Although Ambassador Rossi glowered at her pert retort, Lord Sabine simply laughed then replied, “No doubt you make as striking a figure when dancing as you do here.”

A blush heated her cheeks. Definitely flirting. Why? Her pertness had surely nettled Lord Sabine as much as it had Ambassador Rossi. Was Lord Sabine seeking an alliance with a wealthy and powerful Calatinian family to boost his status back home? A mere baron could be elevated by marrying a duke’s daughter, even a foreign and impudent one. She swept an elegant curtsy. “Again, you flatter me, my lord.”

Before she and Lord Sabine could exchange further sharp words, Father interjected, “Tell me, Lord Sabine, how long have you had your draklizard?” Then he kept their discussion to the Varkhoran court’s custom of gentlemen possessing draklizards and ladies faebirds. Not surprising Father had quelled her and Lord Sabine’s near bickering. As Calatini’s wily Minister of Intelligence who adored intrigue, Father much preferred discourse to altercations.

Once the two Varkhorans left, Father arched a brow at her and murmured, “Why so prickly with Lord Sabine?”

Georgiana pursed her lips, resisting the urge to toss her head. A defiant gesture like that might be noticed by court. “I don’t trust him. His apparent acceptance of ladies being equals can’t possibly be genuine. Varkhoran men are renowned for expecting women to be demure and subservient.”

Father hummed. “True, but I sense no deceit from Lord Sabine. Perhaps he’s visiting Calatini because he wants ladies to be his equals.”

She couldn’t help her soft snort. Doubtful, very doubtful. “Well, I’m sure your spies shall tell you Lord Sabine’s reasons for visiting soon enough.”

Not wanting to discuss Lord Sabine further, she told Father she was going to fetch some refreshments. Once armed with a flute of sparkling wine, she circulated alone about the drawing room. She bit back a sigh when a waltz began and the unmarried Count of Meade asked her to dance. Since she’d told Lord Sabine that she didn’t intend to dance tonight, she had to refuse other offers as well. If only she’d found a better excuse. She regretfully refused Lord Meade then continued circulating. But without the relief of dancing, the Linwicks’ rout party was dreadfully dull.

She was fetching another flute of sparkling wine when Lord Sabine drawled from behind her, “You appear bored, Lady Georgiana. Perhaps you’ve changed your mind about dancing tonight?”

Her pulse flaring, Georgiana turned to face Lord Sabine, who was now alone too, and her pulse quickened further at the warm smile glinting amid his beard. Goddess, he was handsome. Not that she was about to allow that to overpower her distrust. She sniffed. “Perhaps I might if a more impressive gentleman asked me.”

Lord Sabine chuckled, his smile not fading in the least. “Like whom?”

She glared at the smug Varkhoran lord. Somehow she must convince him of her indifference. Maybe mentioning her most prominent former suitor would work. She sipped her sparkling wine. “Like the Duke of Oakmoor.”

His smile fading at last, Lord Sabine narrowly eyed her. “And why would you desire the attention of the greatest rakehell in Ormas?”

She clenched her glass flute. Was Lord Sabine implying she was unchaste? How dare he? Her courtship with the Duke of Oakmoor had been entirely proper. Even if the rakehell duke trifled with innocents, which he didn’t, she never would have been idiotic enough to let him seduce her without marrying her first. She blurted, “Ladies always desire the attention of gentlemen they’re practically betrothed to.”

Lord Sabine scowled. “You’re almost betrothed to the Duke of Oakmoor?”

Georgiana shifted as a flush scorched her skin at her ridiculous pretense. All of court knew her and the duke’s courtship had ended months ago, although she had attempted to revive it before he’d left with Lady Juliet to handle a private royal matter. The duke was still the most prominent eligible gentleman in Calatini, and she was tired of being an unwed girl. They were expected to be sweet and coy, so she must continually conceal her strength to avoid intimidating potential husbands and their relations. And the Duke of Oakmoor had made his preference for strong ladies clear when ending their courtship.

She sipped some sparkling wine to hide her flush. “Is a duke wanting to wed a duke’s daughter so surprising?”

Lord Sabine grunted. “That depends on the duke and the duke’s daughter.” His mottled-brown draklizard shifting on his shoulder, he bent a brief bow. “Good evening, my lady.”

As Lord Sabine strode away, she exhaled. Please let him not quiz anyone about her supposed almost betrothal. Damn Lord Sabine for goading her into blurting that. He was dangerous to her wits. She’d better avoid the vexing foreigner while he was visiting Calatini.

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3

Giovanni gritted a bland smile while he strode away from the infuriating Lady Georgiana Laurent. How could she accept a beastly rakehell and blatantly scorn an honorable gentleman like himself? She’d seemed so strong and shrewd, but ’twas a mere mirage. He should avoid her while he awaited Giuliettanna’s return.

So on the days before Summerday, he scanned the Calatinian court events he attended for Lady Georgiana then stayed across the room from her. And with every conversation, he subtly probed about Giuliettanna while carefully remaining silent about his reasons for visiting Calatini. Yet he unearthed little about his sister. ‘Twas maddening to be so close but unable to make progress.

On Summerday, he skipped his daily sword practice and left the Varkhoran embassy well before Ambassador and Mrs. Rossi usually emerged. They were even more hidebound than many at the Varkhoran court. Perhaps because they’d not been softened by Father’s and King Alessandro’s gradual efforts to balance Varkhoran society. Or perhaps they’d fossilized to defend themselves against the progressive Calatinian one. But either way, it made socializing with the Rossis tiresome.

He rode outside of Ormas for much of the day, eating luncheon at a country tavern. Around late afternoon, he returned to the Varkhoran embassy to change then headed to Jade Garden without bothering to find the Rossis. He’d heard that the sprawling city garden was where many from the Calatinian court celebrated Summerday festivities. No doubt their festivities would be more racy and lavish than those back in Varkhora.

And so it was. Excited chatter and laughter tinkled through the crowd during the sensual crowning of the Summer Lord and Lady, the three traditional pageants about the Sea God’s courtship of the Goddess, and the delectable honey feast. Then when dusk fell, the children and elders left as multiple Summerday bonfires were lit across the sprawling gardens while priests began marrying handfasted couples or handfasting new couples. The crowd became increasingly bawdy as couples began dancing sunwise around the bonfires before leaping through the flames to enhance their fertility.

Giovanni smiled and scratched Striker’s chest while he strode along the outskirts and studied the cavorting couples, half of whom wore court attire. Although the Summerday festivities back home consisted of the same essentials, Varkhorans were much more serious about it, particularly the fertility ritual. Probably because bearing children was the sole vocation for proper Varkhoran women. He sighed as he circled past the nearest bonfire.

Then he halted. Lady Georgiana Laurent was standing alone directly before him and observing the bonfire with a faint smile. Why was she attending such ribald festivities? She was an innocent young lady, and although almost betrothed, her future husband was still away handling that private royal matter.

Lady Georgiana’s head turned, and their gazes met, so he forced himself to join her with a bow. Although he’d been avoiding her, doing so now would be extremely rude. Once he straightened, he said, “Good evening, Lady Georgiana. I’m surprised to see you here. Alone too.”

Lady Georgiana nodded toward the couples dancing about the nearest Summerday bonfire. “I’m not alone. I’m attending with my sister Lady Aynsley and her husband. They’re dancing there.”

Giovanni leaned toward Lady Georgiana, his heart quickening. Although ’twas utterly improper, he blurted, “Perhaps we should join them.”

Her eyes widening, Lady Georgiana gaped at him. “Did you just ask me to dance about a Summerday bonfire? We’re not married or betrothed.”

He leaned closer and inhaled Georgiana’s heady scent. Somehow he’d not mind if they were married or betrothed. She was so refreshingly outspoken and striking. And her shrewd strength couldn’t be a mere mirage. Her preference for that beastly rakehell must be a callow mistake. He’d help her see that. He smiled into her eyes. “Dance with me, Georgiana.”

She swayed toward him. Then she gasped and jerked backward. “How dare you ask a practically betrothed lady to dance about a Summerday bonfire? You’re almost as bad as the Duke of Oakmoor.”

Fire flared beneath his skin, and he captured Georgiana’s wrist as she began to leave. He gritted, “And yet you’re willing to marry him.”

Georgiana tossed her head. “He’s a wealthy and influential duke who prefers strong ladies.”

His jaw tight, Giovanni yanked his blind lady against him. “Oakmoor isn’t the only such duke.” Although technically, he himself wasn’t a duke yet. Not that he was about to reveal his true rank with Georgiana in case she decided to marry him simply because he was a future duke with royal cousins.

Georgiana blinked at him, and her brow furrowed. “Don’t be obtuse. He’s the only unwed duke of marriageable age in Calatini.” She shoved Giovanni’s chest with her free hand. “Now, quit attempting to compromise me. Grace, Lord Aynsley, and others from court can see us, remember?”

Striker bristling on his shoulder, he scowled. He’d forgotten about everyone else when he’d yanked Georgiana against him. ‘Twas fortunate that he’d not kissed her. She’d be truly compromised and have to marry him. Although then she could no longer pretend to prefer Oakmoor. But stealing her right to choose her husband wouldn’t be fair. He made himself allow Georgiana to withdraw to a proper distance, although he didn’t release her wrist to prevent her from leaving. “My apologies. I wasn’t attempting to compromise you—I simply forgot we weren’t alone.”

Georgiana pursed her lips. Was she aware how tempting she was when she did that?

Hunger hot in his veins, Giovanni caressed Georgiana’s palm with his thumb. Goddess, if only they were alone. He’d kiss her too tempting lips until she purred. Inhaling to settle himself, he smiled at Georgiana. “Shall we demonstrate we’ve no ill will by dancing the opening waltz together at the Duchess of Wildewall’s ball tomorrow?”

Georgiana tugged on her captured hand, to no avail. She frowned at him. “That shan’t be necessary.”

He grinned and edged closer. “Perhaps not, but it shall be enjoyable.” And ‘twould silently warn off other gentlemen.

Outright glaring now, Georgiana jerked on her captured hand again. “I said no.”

Giovanni smoothed his beard and eyed his obstinate lady. How could he get her to agree? Provoking her pride obviously. He arched a brow. “Why? Too cowardly to dance with me?”

Glaring even fiercer, Georgiana stepped closer and poked his chest. “I’m not cowardly.”

His blood surging, he caressed her palm with his thumb once more. “Prove it by dancing with me tomorrow.”

Georgiana huffed then snapped, “Very well.”

He grinned and was about to reply when a soft feminine voice interjected, “Everything all right?”

He and Georgiana whirled to face her sister and Lord Aynsley, who were frowning at them. He swallowed a sigh and released Georgiana’s hand at last. Thankfully, he’d won her agreement about tomorrow before they’d been interrupted.

Georgiana smiled and swept toward Lady Aynsley. “Everything is fine, although I think I should return home before the evening gets even bawdier.”

Lady Aynsley inclined her head, then Georgiana and her family left without the two ladies glancing at him, although Lord Aynsley did nod farewell.

Giovanni left Jade Garden soon after too since courtship rituals without Georgiana were pointless. Not to mention observing the increasingly ardent dancing felt prurient.

He returned to the Varkhoran embassy and avoided the Rossis until he rode with them to the Duchess of Wildewall’s ball the following evening. Arriving just before the dancing began, he scanned the crowd for Georgiana as soon as they’d greeted the duchess. He stiffened when he spotted her flirting with a suave gentleman who appeared at least twice their age. He muttered to Ambassador Rossi, “Who is that with Lady Georgiana Laurent? I don’t believe I’ve met him.”

Ambassador Rossi glanced across the ballroom then hummed. “The Duke of Oakmoor. He must have finished handling that private royal matter.”

Giovanni nearly scowled. He should have guessed that the gentleman was Georgiana’s almost betrothed given how she was clinging to him. Not even Calatinian ladies were so bold in public with gentlemen unconnected to them. Yet despite her blatant flirting with Oakmoor, Giovanni still strode through the crowd toward Georgiana and her almost betrothed. After all, she’d promised him the first dance, not the duke.

Then he halted when Georgiana yanked Oakmoor onto the floor as the opening strains of the first waltz began. She’d just jilted him to dance with the duke. Only a betrothed lady would dare be that rude.

His teeth grinding together, he forced himself to pivot and stride to the wall so that he could scan the crowd once more. But for his sister this time. Since Oakmoor had returned, Giuliettanna was doubtless here too. He quickly found a Varkhoran lady who resembled Mother—Giuliettanna surely—talking with the Orandian ambassador and the ambassador’s husband. Yet he didn’t join them because he couldn’t reunite with his long-lost sister in front of others.

Instead, he watched Oakmoor join Giuliettanna and the Orandians immediately following the first waltz then sweep Giuliettanna onto the floor. Giovanni’s jaw tightened even further. Oakmoor should keep to the lady he was practically betrothed to and not pester his sister. He clenched his saber when Oakmoor almost kissed Giuliettanna near the end of their waltz. That beastly rakehell!

As Giuliettanna hastened out to the garden once she left the duke, Giovanni hurried after her. A garden away from the eyes of Calatini’s court would be the ideal place to reunite with his sister and heal the divide unbalancing their family.

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4

When Lord Sabine followed Lady Juliet into the garden, Georgiana stiffened and gripped her flute of sparkling wine. Why was he following the royal witch? He couldn’t possibly want to marry her since Lady Juliet must be almost twenty years their senior. And although Lady Juliet was skilled at creating spells, a Varkhoran man would never ask a woman to create a special spell for him, except perhaps a love spell or other spellwork they deemed female magic.

Georgiana’s mouth tightened. Someone must separate Lord Sabine and Lady Juliet, and since the Duke of Oakmoor was the Minister of Foreign Relations, he was the most appropriate someone. So even though their waltz—which she’d forced because she’d been desperate to evade Lord Sabine—had ended in cold silence, she swept over to her former suitor. She touched his arm to gain his attention then murmured, “Excuse me, your grace, but the Varkhoran lord just followed Lady Juliet into the garden.”

The Duke of Oakmoor stiffened then turned and hurried out to the garden without a word.

She gaped after him. The suave duke was never so abrupt—or silent. He was obviously worried about Lord Sabine approaching Lady Juliet too. Not good. She’d better follow to learn precisely what Lord Sabine was up to.

When Georgiana joined them in the garden, she gasped at the Duke of Oakmoor protectively holding Lady Juliet while he and Lord Sabine glared at one another with Lord Sabine clenching his saber, obviously about to attack the duke. She exclaimed, “Your grace, what are you doing?” She glared at Lord Sabine. “‘Tis your fault, I’m sure.”

As the duke and the royal witch began softly conferring, Lord Sabine bristled and glowered at Georgiana. He snapped, “I’m not the one who interrupted a private conversation.”

She glowered back, her chest twisting. Such intimacy between Lord Sabine and Lady Juliet wasn’t proper at all. “You’re the one who almost drew his saber on a duke who far outranks you.”

Lord Sabine glared, his mottled-brown draklizard bristling on his shoulder like he himself had earlier. “Oakmoor doesn’t far outrank me.”

Georgiana huffed. So delusional. Lord Sabine was a mere baron, not a duke who was also a royal councilor. “You should study your rank hierarchy again.”

An unexpected smirk flickered across Lord Sabine’s face. “Perhaps you should study Varkhoran titles more.”

She blinked at Lord Sabine. What did that cryptic gibe mean? Surely barons didn’t outrank dukes in Varkhora.

She was about to ask when Lord Sabine scowled at the Duke of Oakmoor and growled, “What are you doing to my sister, Oakmoor?”

Eyeing Lord Sabine and Lady Juliet, Georgiana gasped like earlier. They were brother and sister? But that meant Lady Juliet was Varkhoran. Although the two did resemble each other. No doubt finding Lady Juliet was the reason Lord Sabine was visiting Calatini.

Yet Lord Sabine and Lady Juliet being siblings wasn’t the only shocking discovery Georgiana made in Wildewall House’s garden. She also learned the Duke of Oakmoor was a secret witch when he healed Lady Juliet’s wounded hand with magic. Not that his solicitude toward Lady Juliet was surprising. The rakehell duke had always treated the royal witch differently than other ladies. That, and the hungry way the Duke of Oakmoor watched Lady Juliet when he thought no one could see, had made her frightfully jealous during their former courtship.

Unsettled and still eyeing Lord Sabine with Lady Juliet, she remained silent as the Duke of Oakmoor escorted her back to Father before leaving, and she didn’t tell Father what she’d discovered either. Father would quiz her about why she was unsettled, and she’d rather forget that she had been.

Over the following week, Georgiana threw herself into pursuing the Duke of Oakmoor. He didn’t unsettle her or endanger her wits. She attempted to avoid Lord Sabine as much as possible, but she kept encountering him because the Duke of Oakmoor was often near Lady Juliet. Every time she encountered the vexing Varkhoran, her treacherous heart would quicken, but she concealed it behind sharp words with him and flirting with the duke. Although their encounters did make her realize that Lord Sabine’s acceptance of ladies being equals was indeed genuine. He treated his illustrious and strong older sister with too much loving respect for it not to be. Yet that didn’t soften her behavior toward him because she’d no desire to be his means of forging an alliance with her wealthy and powerful family to elevate his status back in Varkhora. So despite their many encounters, she managed to avoid ever dancing with Lord Sabine… until the Campbells’ ball.

When she and Lord Sabine started bickering like usual, the Duke of Oakmoor arched his brows at her as the first waltz began and smoothly said, “I believe you owe Lord Sabine a first dance for the one you missed at the Duchess of Wildewall’s ball.”

Her heart surging, Georgiana stared at the duke. She couldn’t risk dancing with Lord Sabine—’twas why she’d jilted him last week. Doubtless the duke had only suggested she go dance to stop her persistent flirting that openly irritated him.

Smiling, the Duke of Oakmoor shooed them toward the gathering dancers. “Go on then.”

Lord Sabine narrowly eyed the duke but extended his hand toward her.

She swallowed. She couldn’t refuse Lord Sabine’s silent invitation without being unspeakably rude. So she pursed her lips to disguise their trembling as she laid her hand in his and let him escort her onto the floor. Oh, Goddess.

Her entire body tingled when Lord Sabine drew her into his arms and she placed her hand just below his right shoulder where his draklizard calmly watched her. She inhaled a ragged breath as they began fluidly twirling about the ballroom. She’d never enjoyed such a vigorous and agile partner. What would it be like to do more than dance with Lord Sabine? She shivered. Why was she suffering such wanton thoughts? She never had with other gentlemen, including the rakehell Duke of Oakmoor.

His dark eyes even darker than normal, Lord Sabine smiled and drew her a shade closer. “I knew you were an excellent dancer.”

Georgiana swallowed again, her gaze falling to Lord Sabine’s mouth. Would his beard scratch or tickle if he kissed her? She mumbled, “You’re an excellent dancer too.”

Lord Sabine pulled her close enough that her blue arachne silk ballgown brushed his legs. “If you don’t quit looking at my mouth like that, Georgiana, I’m going to kiss you in the middle of the ballroom.”

More tingling suffusing her, she gasped and yanked her gaze upward to meet Lord Sabine’s eyes, which were near black now. Clearly he was suffering from the same fierce hunger she was. She wetted her parched lips. “You can’t. Kissing me here would cause a scandal.”

Lord Sabine shuddered and shut his eyes. “Goddess, don’t lick your lips either. ‘Tis even more tempting.”

Heat flaring in her veins at his hoarse tone, she almost shivered again. Lord Sabine was no tame Calatinian gentleman, so he’d likely fulfill his sensual threat. But they mustn’t—’twould have dire repercussions. She gripped his arm. “If you kiss me in the middle of the ballroom, we’d be forced to marry.”

Opening his eyes, Lord Sabine warmly smiled down at her. “So?”

Georgiana blinked. Unbelievable. “So? So?” She leaned toward the obtuse gentleman. “So I don’t wish to marry you.” Much too dangerous.

Lord Sabine’s smile twisted into a frown. “Yes, your excessive flirting with Oakmoor makes that apparent.” He spun her, using it to pull her against him. “But you do desire me.”

Breathless with her heart pounding, she stared up at Lord Sabine. And he called her tempting. That hard body of his was irresistible. She inhaled and forced herself to shift back to the proper distance then drawled his earlier response, “So?”

His jaw clenching, Lord Sabine flung her in a complicated twirl that most ladies couldn’t manage, but she performed with nary a stumble. When she was back in his arms, he leaned toward her with narrowed eyes. “Perhaps you should listen to what your body and heart tell you, and not just your head.”

Georgiana sniffed. Except only her head was sensible. Yet to avoid debating that obvious truth, she turned her gaze to Lord Sabine’s draklizard still perched on his shoulder and said, “I’m amazed your draklizard has remained motionless during our entire waltz.”

Lord Sabine shrugged. “We Varkhorans train them from their hatching to do so.”

She asked about that, so she and Lord Sabine kept discussing that as they twirled. They survived the last half of their first waltz together without any further dangerous talk.

When their waltz ended, Lord Sabine propelled them over to the Duke of Oakmoor and Lady Juliet, who were sitting near the refreshments table, most unusual for them. Then Lord Sabine scolded the duke for tiring his sister, which irritated Lady Juliet into commanding Lord Sabine to dance with Georgiana again before sweeping over to the Orandians. When the duke echoed Lady Juliet’s command for them to dance, Georgiana reluctantly agreed. But not because she truly wanted another dance with Lord Sabine. If they danced together now, they couldn’t dance together for the rest of the ball, and this waltz was half over. Besides, ‘twouldn’t be wise to anger Calatini’s royal witch, and she had commanded them to dance.

During the week and a half following the Campbells’ ball, Georgiana encountered Lord Sabine at every court event she attended, and they talked at most of them, although she managed to avoid dancing with Lord Sabine again by provoking quarrels with him and continuing her fake pursuit of the Duke of Oakmoor.

Yet such stringent avoidance was draining, so she was relieved when she could skip the evening’s court event, Lady Ducharme’s ocean feast, with little comment. Since she suffered a violent reaction when eating seafood, no one from court would expect her to attend. A quiet evening at home resting and not encountering Lord Sabine was exactly what she needed.

So when the butler interrupted her solitary dinner to announce Lord Sabine, she leapt upright with a strangled gasp, her napkin dropping to the floor. Private visits between gentlemen and ladies weren’t the least proper. She’d be ruined and have to marry Lord Sabine if court learned of his visit. Fortunately, they wouldn’t because Father only employed incredibly discreet servants thanks to his sensitive royal duties. Not that Lord Sabine likely realized that. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing here?”

His draklizard eyeing the food but remaining still on his shoulder like always, Lord Sabine smiled as he settled in the chair beside hers. “Keeping you company. Remaining alone at home must be dull, especially since you know the rest of court is enjoying a delicious feast without you.”

Georgiana glowered at the maid setting a place before Lord Sabine. She’d not requested that, but Father’s servants were accustomed to performing their duties unbidden regardless of whatever intrigue Father was handling. And doubtless the servants assumed she’d invited Lord Sabine and would be unable to hide their smirks if she ordered him removed as soon as he arrived. She turned her glower onto Lord Sabine as she sank back into her chair. “A quiet evening at home is restful on occasion.”

Lord Sabine grinned at her while setting his draklizard in the next chair. “But much more enjoyable when ’tis shared.”

Her heart fluttering, she sniffed then plucked her napkin from the floor and smoothed it into her lap as Lord Sabine gave his draklizard a heaped plate of roast beefsteak. She’d tell him to leave after they ate. Keeping her gaze on her bowl, she swallowed a spoonful of her chicken chowder. “Only if you’re sharing it with the right person.”

Lord Sabine chuckled. “Exactly.”

Slashing him a disdainful glance, Georgiana gripped her spoon. Vexing man. “I never said you were the right person.”

Grinning harder, Lord Sabine ate some chicken chowder. “I am though. Who else would give up a delicious ocean feast without regret to enjoy a quiet evening together instead?”

She inhaled, tingling filling her chest. Then she stiffened. A mere baron determined to elevate his status by marrying a wealthy duke’s daughter would do that. She set down her spoon to avoid throwing it at Lord Sabine. “You are not the right person for me. I’m going to marry the Duke of Oakmoor.”

Lord Sabine’s spoon clattered on the table. “Why isn’t he here then?” Fierce hands grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “I’m tired of you forever hurling Oakmoor at me. He’s not right for you—I am.” As her pulse flared, he yanked her against him. “And I’m going to prove it.”

Georgiana whimpered when Lord Sabine’s—Giovanni’s—mouth captured hers in their first ravenous kiss. Dear Goddess, so good. And his beard didn’t scratch or tickle as he kissed her; it caressed. Fiery hunger throbbing through her, she fisted her hands in his evening coat and kissed Giovanni back with wild passion that matched his.

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5

Coming soon!