Free Wallflower Gone Wild by Maya Rodale Page B

that did absolve Olivia, it begged the question of why her friend would do such a thing. Phinn didn’t think he liked the obvious answer.
    It didn’t matter. None of it mattered when he finally found Olivia alone on the terrace. She looked beautiful. Her skin was luminous in the moonlight, and her eyes were wide and dark. She appeared a little lost. He wanted nothing more than to embrace her, hold her close, and whisper something devastatingly romantic.
    But years of not wooing every female that crossed his path suddenly caught up with him.
    Instead he said, “Lady Olivia. Good evening.”
    She turned slowly to face him. First she looked toward the right, then toward the left, and then behind her. After ascertaining that there was no one else with whom she might converse, she reluctantly focused on him.
    “Good evening, Lord Radcliffe,” she said indifferently. It ought to have been off-putting. Oddly, he felt more determined than ever to win her.
    “Please, call me Phinn.”
    “Oh, I couldn’t possibly—” she protested. He stepped closer to her, needing to be near, needing to bridge this distance between them.
    “Phinneas is a ridiculous name,” he said. Really, it was, and there was no pretending otherwise. “And Radcliffe is far too formal.”
    “Right,” she said awkwardly.
    She didn’t want to speak with him, let alone marry him. That much was plain. But was it because of his reputation or because of himself? Phinn suspected it was because of his reputation—after all, before she knew who he was she had nearly kissed him. He wanted to go back to that night.
    There was no turning back in this courtship—the rumors were already running wild, and it would reflect badly upon them both if things went awry. Phinn didn’t give a damn for himself, but he did care for her sake.
    That was the thing: he cared. All he had wanted was a nice, calm wife who would offer companionship and perhaps love.
    He thought that woman had been Olivia.
    What if she wasn’t? The woman before him—who’d been two steps ahead of him all night—was not the docile, eager-to-please woman he’d expected. Yet she still perplexed and intrigued him. He couldn’t say for certain that she wasn’t the one for him.
    “I’d been hoping to find you alone this evening,” he said quietly.
    “Oh?” Her eyes widened.
    “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, wondering why she’d seem surprised by this. She didn’t really think he’d do an injury to her on the terrace at a ball with onlookers, did she?
    “Well you haven’t seemed very interested in me thus far,” she said, finding her voice.
    “We only just met,” he replied. Literally, they had only just been introduced yesterday and their initial encounter had been far too brief.
    “Exactly,” Olivia said flatly.
    Phinn quirked his head, stared at her curiously and tried to make sense of what she’d just said. Women. WOMEN. They defied all logic and reason. He pushed his hands through his hair and remembered why he’d waited so long to marry again and why Lord Archer’s suggestion that they just marry and be done with it made so much sense.
    But then he remembered his first glimpse of Olivia, standing on a balcony above the ballroom looking so beautiful and so above the fray. He hadn’t forgotten how she felt in his arms either.
    “Perhaps we can start anew. Getting to know each other. We’re alone and it’s quiet enough out here for a conversation . . .” He said this because Rogan, who apparently understood women, suggested he do so.
    Olivia just shuddered.
    “But you must be cold,” he said, even though it was a warm evening. “Would you care to take a turn around the ballroom with me?”
    “I should find my friends,” Olivia said.
    Her friends, he thought, who had pushed her into the arms of unsuspecting gentlemen and who interrogated him about murder and dungeons in the midst of the ballroom. He would have to win over her friends if he wished to win