Chapter Six

H eath looked for her the moment he entered the ballroom. He wasn't surprised to see her surrounded by people. She usually gathered a crowd of women, but this time, there was an equal number of men seeking her hand.

Damn. He should have come earlier but finding a new nurse for his girls had been a time-consuming affair. He needed a wife soon, if only to help with these matters.

His gaze traveled the sea of wallflowers. He had plenty of wealth, so he had no need for money. He could find an acceptably demure and respectable wife among the neglected and forgotten. What he looked for in a woman was not the flashy wildness so attractive to youth, but a steady hand and a faithful heart.

Unfortunately, the only woman he wanted was Miss Allen. This was a startling realization for him. Certainly, she'd consumed his thoughts from their first introduction two seasons ago. He thought her wild and reckless, and told himself that only an immature boy wanted such a woman. He was a mature man with children, so he had kept tabs on her without actively pursuing her.

Until fate had brought them together again. Since the night they'd both punched Eddie, he'd thought of her nearly nonstop. What a vibrant woman she was, unabashedly practical and yet so idealistic as to discipline errant men as Lady Vengeance.

Such a contradiction intrigued him, captivated him. And how he longed to know her more intimately.

Finally he spotted her across the ballroom. Her hair was tied back in a demure style, but her gown clung to her curves like a second skin. She hadn't dampened her skirts like a demimonde, but she wore a flesh-colored fichu that did nothing to preserve modesty. Indeed, her bodice drew his eye and roused his cock. Or it did, until he maneuvered closer to her.

She did not look well.

Her skin was pale, and her expression fixed. He was used to seeing her face animated with whatever emotion filled her. She was a woman of fiery passion, and yet tonight she seemed defeated. And that made him furious.

Who or what could see her diminished? Whatever it was, he vowed to destroy it immediately.

He stepped forward, doing the pretty with every lady present. It was tedious bowing and greeting every soul there when all he wanted to do was to whisk Miss Allen away for a private conversation, but he couldn't very well show that kind of partiality in public. People would assume he intended to wed her and that would destroy her chances with anyone else.

He forced himself to be patient.

Finally, he was able to bow over her hand. Did she tense at that? Was she afraid of him? Why?

He spoke calmly to reassure her. He requested a waltz as he'd promised. She'd kept the first and the last free for him. And damn it, it irked him that her card was otherwise full, though the thought was irrational.

He'd wanted to make her popular. He'd even spoken with Prinny about it, and he expected her to receive a royal invitation soon. That gave her a reasonable chance of attracting a husband—one who would understand her need to see women and children protected. She would do what was required whether that meant confronting Lord Luddican in a back garden or climbing a tree to save Lacy. It all amounted to the same thing, and he admired a woman who thought nothing of such risks.

In short, he admired her, and he did not like the list of blighters and ne'er-do-wells that filled her dance card.

"Are you well this evening, Miss Allen?" he asked.

"Quite well," she answered flatly. "And you?"

"Well."

"And your children?"

"Asking about you. They want to see the lady who climbs trees."

Her expression shifted into one of fondness. "They should come to Scotland then, where nearly every child climbs."

He gave a false shudder. "My heart couldn't withstand the sight."

"Children are sturdier than we think. Though I admit that I would be terrified by some of the things my brothers and I did. We didn't know the risks."

"I pity your mother."

"You would be the only one."

He was startled by her dry tone. "Was she as formidable as you?"

She turned to him, her expression cold. "She was angry, bitter, and cold. After Da abandoned us, she worked the farm until she was hurt." She bit her lip. "She was formidable then, I suppose. It was the horse that did it. It kicked her, probably because she was whipping it. She had a temper. But once she couldn't walk right, all that fury turned on us."

"Us?"

"Me and my brothers. And anyone who dared venture near, which wasn't many."

He looked at her, feeling his respect for her grow. "Who took care of you?"

"I did. I was the eldest. My brothers were little more than monkeys wrestling with each other. Samuel helped—he was my grandfather. And other members of the clan. But mostly, we managed."

"You mean, you managed."

She shrugged. "There were advantages." She smiled. "Ma didn't think I needed to read or figure. Not when all I was good for was cooking badly."

He winced. "Did she really say that?"

"That and a great deal more. And if she were fully capable, she would have seen to it that I stayed inside just to wash her arse."

"You didn't?"

Her smile widened. "I didn't. I went to school with my brothers. Said I had to make sure they learned, and I did. I got a man's education because her leg was too broken to stop me."

He was stunned into silence, and when she noticed his shock, she lifted her chin.

"I bet I know more about the world than most of the ladies here. I can cook and plow if I must, but I also learned about crops and the ways to manage a keep so that no one starves in winter." She arched a brow as she gestured to the room about her. "How many others can say the same?"

"None," he said softly. And while he was trying to express how in awe he was of her, he lost his chance. The music began and he had to surrender her to her first partner, leaving him to stand on the side as he mulled over everything he'd learned about her.

Such a fierce woman. Powerful in a way that would never fit in normal society because people—or rather men—didn't like it when a woman showed such strength. Of course, she chafed at the restrictions around her. And of course, she turned her fury on men like Lord Liddican.

But where did that leave him? After tonight's waltz, his obligations to her were done. He would show his approval of her with that dance, and then—after her visit with Prinny—she would be well established. And yet, he was loathe to walk away. He wanted to see how she faced down the ton . More than that, he wanted to see if any man could tame her.

Doubtful. She was not a soul to be tamed. She needed a man who smoothed the way ahead for whatever she willed. With a man protecting her, she could act more powerfully as Lady Vengeance. He could give her cover and flatten the Lord Liddicans of the world when she could not. He could make sure she was safe and help her devise better ways to punish men like Eddie. Or at least contain them.

That was the man she needed. And one look at the dandys around him told him that she was doomed. There was not a soul in London who could match her.

No one, that is, except himself.

But was that the best thing for him? Or more importantly, the best thing for his children? He had sworn to find a bride who was respectable. One who could teach his girls to be ladies. But how much better would it be if they learned to be like Miss Allen? Fierce. Practical. And so much more than a mere lady that the term hardly applied.

Good God, he must be muddled to think about Miss Allen in those terms. More than a lady? Ridiculous. The term "lady" was the highest honor a woman could receive. So his mother, his sister, and his wife had often said. And yet, when he looked at Miss Allen, the term did not fit.

It was too small.

Eventually it was his turn to dance with her. Finally, he could speak to her with a modicum of privacy. Except the moment he took her arm, all thoughts of what he wanted to say fled.

"Good God, what has happened?" he asked, doing his best to keep his voice low. She was quiet, contained, and practically listless.

Her eyes widened and, shockingly, she paled even further. "What?"

"Who has upset you? You look terrified." His hands tightened. "Was it Liddican? I'll have him picked up immediately. Prison is too good for him."

"What? N-no! It's n-nothing."

"You stammered. Have you ever stammered before in your life?"

"N-no…erm." She scowled at him. "It is nothing, Lord Heath," she said, enunciating each word clearly. "A couple of nightmares."

"Nightmares?"

"Yes. In which you…um…"

He pulled back, shocked. "Did I hurt you? In these dreams?"

"No! A-a banshee killed you." She shuddered in his arms. "I could not stop it."

"But I am perfectly hale."

"I know."

"There is nothing to fear."

"I know."

"But—"

"I know!" she huffed, a dash of color coming back into her cheeks.

Ah, there was the fiery Scotswoman he knew, but it disturbed him to think that she had been plagued by fears for him. Unfortunately, there was no more time as the music began.

They began, matching their steps to one another. In truth, he never liked the waltz. He was a large man, his steps were too big and the ladies too fragile in his arms.

But not her. She was not an amazon by any means, but she had a solid frame and good muscles to give her strength. She didn't mince words or steps, and so she was easy to match. Very quickly, they were moving together as one, and it was delightful.

He'd never thought of dancing as anything more than a social obligation. Until now. It was a pleasure to hold her in his arms. She moved with him, following his lead as the dance required, but also having her own agency. It was a subtle thing, but it surprised him.

He smiled down at her, pleased to see the color in her cheeks. And at his smile, she brightened even further. Her body relaxed and soon their dance felt as easy as breathing. He could have spun her around until she flew. How he wanted to do just that, but he could not be so raucous. Instead, he looked at her lips and thought of kissing her, of shaping her breasts and stroking between her thighs. By the time the music ended, he was flushed and tormented by lust.

How she affected him! And how susceptible he was to her every blush and stammer.

"T-thank you, my lord. That was wonderful ." That last word lingered on her tongue before heating his blood.

"You are a wonderful dancer," he answered, knowing such praise was inadequate.

"I think we matched," she said, her wits seeming to return.

His came a moment later, and he began escorting her back to the countess. She had other partners waiting, but he was loathe to release her.

"I need to speak with you. Privately, if possible."

"Privately?" Her voice came out at a higher register. "How?"

"Short of climbing the ivy outside your window like Romeo, I haven't the foggiest." He was startled when she stumbled. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. No. In my dream you climbed the ivy."

"What?"

She shook her head. "It was so real."

"Your nightmare." It wasn't a question. She seemed shaken to the core. "When I died."

"Yes."

He took a deep breath. One more step and he would have to surrender her to her next partner. "I will speak to the countess," he said. "We will speak tonight. After all the ball."

"After—"

"Good evening, Mr. Dickerson," he interrupted. "Yes, I saw you there waiting, and I was rude in not surrendering the lady earlier to your care. I am loathe to leave her you see, but—"

"Yes, we all saw, Lord Heath," the gentleman intoned. "But we all must have a go, don't you know."

Heath stiffened at the wording. It was no more than what gentlemen said all the time, but Miss Allen was not a toy to be passed from one child to another. "Mind your tongue," he snapped, and then felt his face heat as everyone in earshot turned to look at him in surprise.

Strangely enough, it was Miss Allen who came to his social rescue. She chuckled as she turned a brilliant smile on Mr. Dickerson. "Never mind him," she said with a wink. "I'm afraid I stepped on his toes and so he's understandably surly."

"You didn't step anywhere you shouldn't have," he returned, feeling confused at the situation.

"No one ever says that about me," she laughed. And with that, she curtsied to him before allowing Mr. Dickerson to lead her onto the dance floor.

He watched her go, feeling his insides twist. He couldn't even identify what he was feeling except that it was upsetting. He didn't want her smoothing things over with Mr. Dickerson or anyone else. Damn it, he didn't want her anywhere but in his arms explaining about her nightmares. And he would soothe her fears because that's what a gentleman did.

But there was no help for it now. So he turned to the countess, bowed over her hand, and as he straightened, he mouthed words that only she would hear.

"Must speak. Tonight. Prinny."

The countess's eyes didn't even widen. She took everything he said with the ease of a seasoned society woman.

"We shall be delighted, my lord."