1
" You think my dancing with you would be a waste of my time? Have you never lived for the moment, Mrs. Wheaton?"
Evelyn swallowed uncomfortably, then felt the color leave her cheeks. "No, I have not," she said, and turned to leave. She did not like the question.
"You should," he called after her, "because that's what life is. A series of moments. Nothing more. We must endeavor to enjoy every single one. Forget about the past and future. They have no place in the present."
But Evelyn did not turn back, nor did she respond, because in her opinion, life was much more than a series of moments- for all moments had consequences, and consequences could bring pain.
And pain could not simply be "forgotten. "
― Julianne MacLean , Surrender to a Scoundrel (American Heiresses, #6)
3
" Martin was more than happy to let Spencer take over the conversation, for it finally granted him an opportunity to observe Mrs. Wheaton- who had just achieved the impossible. She had made him laugh. Truly, she was one of a kind. She always had been, he supposed, recalling again that day at the train station.
While the polite conversation continued all around him, he allowed his gaze to meander downward and was pleased to admire the alluring feminine curves "Miss Foster" had developed over the past decade, including a lush, generous bosom, which would fare quite nicely in a lighter gown with a lower neckline, he thought. Dressed as she was at present, she reminded him of a pleasure yacht with her sails trimmed too tight, rendering her incapable of moving freely at the speed she was built for.
He wondered suddenly how this aloof young widow would respond to a little wind in her sails and a skillful skipper like himself at her helm. Would he be able to bring the best out of her, like he did with the Orpheus?
Yes, he thought with absolute confidence while he admired the grace of her gloved hand as she touched one finger to the corner of her mouth to dab at an errant drop of tea. He certainly could bring the best out of her, and also bring out that spark she kept hidden from the world. A marvelous, masculine satisfaction flowed through him at the thought of it. "
― Julianne MacLean , Surrender to a Scoundrel (American Heiresses, #6)
5
" I am going to the ball now, Lord Martin. Doubtless my dance card will be full. Do you still wish to reserve a spot?"
So much for not being foolish. She should have just let him forget, which he surely would have done as soon as he saw all the other women in the ballroom.
He crossed his wrists over the newel post at the top and leaned upon it. "Yes, I would like to reserve a spot. If I may have first choice, I'll take the last dance please."
"Well, you had best hope I don't grow tired and leave early."
He replied with smooth confidence. "You won't."
She pursed her lips. "Don't be so sure."
"How can I not be?" he replied. "Because I think you enjoy a good party, Mrs. Wheaton. More than you let on. Or maybe you don't even know it yet. Maybe you've never experienced a night that was truly exhilarating."
He was gazing down at her with presumptuous assistance, as if he knew exactly what she was about, and it shook her inwardly, because curse him, he was right. She had experienced very little excitement in her life because she had witnessed the consequences of women who loved exciting men. She'd seen her mother's broken heart over her father's many disgraces with other women, and Penelope's heartbreak over Martin and others after him.
Most importantly, she knew about rejection. She had been living with it all her life, since as early as she could remember, beginning with the most painful rejection of all- her father's. And later, her husband's. She knew how much it hurt and had learned to avoid it by never seeking attention. Instead, she was deliberately unapproachable. Her mask of contempt was her shield. "
― Julianne MacLean , Surrender to a Scoundrel (American Heiresses, #6)
9
" So it seems we both have reputations," he said, "which means that we are similar creatures. Except that you are famous for being virtuous, and I am famous for... Well, quite the opposite."
Evelyn tensed. "And I thought you were famous because of all your sailing trophies," she replied. "Foolish me."
He smiled again, and it reached his eyes. "You? Foolish? I don't think so."
But she felt very foolish at this moment, responding with lavish desire to the sensation of his hot breath on her face and the intoxicating nearness of his body.
Heart pounding, she drew in a slow, deep breath, and remembered to whom she was speaking. Martin Langdon. Charmer. Thrill seeker. Heartbreaker.
And she was Evelyn Wheaton. Pious churchgoer. Shy mouse. Ugly duckling. "
― Julianne MacLean , Surrender to a Scoundrel (American Heiresses, #6)
10
" You can't go through life watching other people have all the fun," he said. Then he leaned closer and whispered in her ear and the moist heat of his breath sent gooseflesh tingling down the entire left side of her body. "Don't you ever want to try new things? To explore and feel truly alive?"
Evelyn breathed in the cool night air, mixed with the musky scent of his shaving soap or cologne or whatever it was, and felt a dizzying thrill run through her, from the top of her head straight down to her toes. It made her want to do everything he was suggesting- and more- because when had she ever done anything new? When had she ever felt as alive as she did at this moment?
She swallowed hard over the shock of her response though she should not be surprised. He was a handsome, mysterious, virile man who sailed boats on stormy seas, looked at her with sexual prowess like he wanted to devour her, and he'd been a hero in her eyes since she was a girl. He was like no other man in the world- charming on the outside, but dark and enigmatic under the surface- and there was something about him that touched her deepest desires. The ones no one knew about. The ones she couldn't even admit to herself because she feared them.
All at once she realized the conversation had become too intimate. Yes, she had wanted to be more amiable and less aloof, but surely she had let things go too far. He was speaking to her deepest thoughts and emotions when she should have kept her guard up and maintained a reasonably safe distance at least. Especially from a man like him, who knew how to seduce and did so on a regular basis.
"I could take you," he said in a low, silken voice, surprising her yet again with his direct manner when he should not be suggesting such a thing, and certainly not like that- with such heated persuasion, as if he were insinuating all kinds of other activities that would take place on board his boat after he'd dropped anchor in a secluded cove. "I could even teach you. Show you how thrilling it can be."
There was no point pretending not to recognize what he was proposing- that they could enjoy more than just a cruise on the water. "
― Julianne MacLean , Surrender to a Scoundrel (American Heiresses, #6)
11
" He removed his bow tie and wrung it out in front of her. She looked down at the water dripping on the floor, stared at it aghast, then looked up at him again with the reproachful expression that he sensed was becoming a recurring joke between them.
"Are you going to get me in trouble for that?" he asked with a grin.
"I should," she replied, but with a hint of playful rebellion in her eyes that surprised him in some ways, but not in others. "I should call the hotel authorities right this instant," she added.
He took another step closer until his lips almost touched her pretty nose. "But you're not going to, are you?" He felt her suck in a breath.
"I haven't decided yet."
Her blasé tone was a most commendable effort, he thought. She deserved a prize.
"And what can I do to convince you to let me get away with it?" he asked.
She inclined her head and raised an eyebrow. "It's salt water, you know. It's going to leave a mark."
His voice was low, casual, suggestive. "Maybe we can get down on our hands and knees and scrub it clean together. "
― Julianne MacLean , Surrender to a Scoundrel (American Heiresses, #6)
13
" So is that what you love about sailing?" she asked. "It keeps your mind busy and occupied?"
He still seemed distracted as he tipped his head up to inspect the mainsail. "I guess that's part of it. I like to get everything working just so in order to get the most out of the boat, and I can't rest until she's moving as fast as she can."
Evelyn turned the wheel slightly. "And you tell me I'm the one who needs to relax?"
His gaze darted to her profile, then he laughed and shook his head. "I did say we were similar creatures, didn't I? We have that in common, I suppose- we both need some slack in our lines."
"Speak for yourself!" she replied, feigning great umbrage. "I like my lines pulled very tight, sir, because with my inconceivable beauty, I have to do something to keep the wicked rakes like you at a safe distance."
He stared at her, dumbfounded, then they both gave in to their laughter. She wondered how it was possible they could be having this conversation. Who knew she could be amusing?
"You're quite a woman, Evelyn." Then he wagged a warning finger at her. "It's a good thing I didn't know you better back at Eton, or you would have been in considerable trouble. "
― Julianne MacLean , Surrender to a Scoundrel (American Heiresses, #6)
15
" Good God, woman! Can you not take a compliment?"
"Perhaps not," she replied, but he detected a note of indecision.
That was all he needed. He leaned closer. "You should learn how to take one, my dear, because I could shower you with them if you would only say the word. And I truly wish you would."
Evelyn swallowed apprehensively, for no one had ever wished to shower her with compliments before, and she was quite frankly unwilling to believe any of it. She had to remain on guard where her passions were concerned, because if she gave in to them, God help her, she'd be done for. "I don't want, or need, your flattery, Lord Martin."
"Oh, but I believe you do. I also think you need to be kissed. Quite thoroughly kissed in fact."
Her head drew back in shock. Remaining on guard against her passions was one thing, but resisting his advances was quite another.
"I can assure you I need no such thing, and certainly not from a scoundrel like you."
"A scoundrel like me. Indeed."
He leaned closer and cradled her chin in his hand, and heaven help her, just the heat of his touch melted whatever resolve she had left. It kept her from retreating into that guarded fortress again- the place where she would only try to reject him before he had the chance to reject her.
He leaned closer, still, and the instant their mouths met, she felt with shock the soft, hot texture of his tongue sliding into her mouth. Her breasts rose and fell with the quickening pace of her breathing, and unfamiliar shivers of delight coursed through her body. She had never been kissed like this. Ever. She closed her eyes and could do nothing but surrender to the burning heat of it. Was this real? she wondered in a love-struck haze she would surely chastise herself for later. Was Martin truly kissing her? And was she letting him? Yes, yes she was.
She reached up to rest her hands on his broad shoulders while passion raced through her veins. She felt a throbbing sensation between her thighs from the chaos of vibrations in her body, and it sent her head spinning.
Slowly he drew back, and she opened her eyes. He was regarding her closely.
"Was that necessary?" she asked with breathless, lingering desire, knowing she wasn't fooling him for a second with that feeble attempt at hauteur. She'd just dissolved into warm putty in his hands, and he knew it.
"I believe so."
He leaned into her again, kissing her deeply a second time. She let out a whimper, a sound she'd never heard herself make before, and reached out to hold his face in her hands, to run her fingers through his beautiful thick hair. A symphony of little sighs poured out of her.
Oh, she had definitely made the right decision to come sailing today, she thought with a rapturous smile. Think of what she was learning. It was all truly sublime.
"You're delicious," he said, kissing down the side of her neck until she could barely breathe inside her tight bodice. His fingers played in the upswept hair at her nape. "You're beautiful, Evelyn. You must know it. Look at me. I want you like a schoolboy."
He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pressed his mouth firmly to hers again, and she met the kiss eagerly with lips parted, fists gripping his lapels. She could barely comprehend the ferocity of her desires. "
― Julianne MacLean , Surrender to a Scoundrel (American Heiresses, #6)
17
" Evelyn."
She recognized the voice immediately, and her body began to hum. Closing her eyes for a brief second to search for calm, she wet her lips and slowly turned.
There he was, her hero, looking as handsome as ever in his black-and-white formal attire, his dark, wavy hair curling around his collar in the most appealing way. He was a striking and beautiful man, that had not changed, and she still loved him with every breath of passion in her body. "Hello," she said with a warm smile.
"Hello," he replied, making his way closer, hands in pockets while his eyes took in her evening gown of white satin, embroidered in peach lovers' knots, cut daringly low at the neckline. He even glanced down at her shoes of gilt leather with expensive jeweled toecaps.
"You look beautiful," he said, and she smiled when she recognized the wonder in his eyes. She had definitely picked the right gown for tonight.
He gazed at her appreciatively for another few seconds, then raised his eyebrows and let out a whistle, as if he couldn't quite recover from the sight of her in this dress. It was just the response she had hoped for, and it sent shivers of delight down her spine. "
― Julianne MacLean , Surrender to a Scoundrel (American Heiresses, #6)
