Free In My Wildest Fantasies by Julianne MacLean Page A

wherever they might be.
    Lord Vincent halted, forcing Rebecca to halt as well. She glanced up at him. His face had gone pale. He did not seem quite so confident now. He appeared rather shaken in fact.
    Lord Hawthorne on the other hand, stood with one hand behind his back, the other at his side, his eyes beneath the black mask fixed upon Rebecca. It felt as if they were the only two people in the room.
    She and Lord Vincent started off again.
    "Lady Rebecca," Hawthorne said when they reached him, and though he did not say it out loud, there was a question in his eyes. Is everything satisfactory?
    She had never spoken to anyone without words before, but believed she succeeded in assuring him that all was well.
    He bowed to her, then directed his gaze at his brother. "Vincent, it is good to see you."
    "And you."
    A long, uncomfortable silence weighed heavily upon them. Rebecca glanced at her aunt who watched the exchange with some dismay.
    Lord Hawthorne asked, "How is London these days?"
    "It is the same as it was before you left," Vincent replied. "Only wetter."
    The brothers continued to stare heatedly at each other, until Lord Hawthorne turned to Rebecca and her aunt. "Pardon me, ladies, but if I recall, I promised you both a guided tour of the dessert table, did I not? Shall we see what delectable treats await us?"
    The tension in the air drained away with the pleasant tone of his voice, and Rebecca let out a deep breath.
    "That would be lovely," Aunt Grace said, accepting the arm he offered with a flirtatious smile of her own. It appeared Aunt Grace was not immune to Lord Hawthorne's charms, either.
    Rebecca took his other arm and resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at Lord Vincent, when she could feel the heat of his scorching gaze upon their backs.
    They left the ballroom and reached the dessert table, which was adorned in lace and covered with gleaming silver platters covered in cream cakes and sugared fruit in every color of the rainbow.
    Rebecca wandered around the table, eyeing everything before she removed her gloves and tasted a raspberry bonbon, then a chocolate tart with whipped cream on top. She was licking the cream off the tip of her baby finger when she noticed Lord Hawthorne was not enjoying any of the sweets. He was merely watching her with heavy lidded eyes from the opposite side of the table.
    She felt a quivering thrill in the pit of her belly and stopped what she was doing, for she knew these moments at the dessert table were pivotal. Her instincts were telling her to do something in order to capture and hold his attention. She had to tempt him, beguile him, perhaps even seduce him, but for the life of her, she had no idea how to do it.
    He turned to converse with her aunt. A moment later, Aunt Grace left to go and speak with an acquaintance who was sipping champagne on the other side of the dessert room.
    Rebecca raised an eyebrow at him, encouraging his approach. Virile and striking in his black costume, he came around the table to stand before her.
    "So you met my brother," he said matter-of-factly.
    A footman appeared beside them with a tray of champagne, and they each helped themselves to a glass. Rebecca took a sip. "Yes, my lord, and he is very different from you."
    "In what way?"
    She pondered the question, not quite sure how to articulate what she meant. "You make people feel safe. He has quite the opposite effect."
    Lord Hawthorne's pale blue eyes became expressionless as stone, then he bent forward slightly and spoke with a hush that sent a shiver of awareness through her. "What makes you think you are safe with me?"
    Her body trembled, and she marveled at the peculiar panic he evoked in her. Then he turned and casually strolled around the dessert table, looking at everything but sampling nothing. Rebecca followed him and tasted a lemon jelly candy, then a sweet red grape.
    When he came around again, having circled the table, he faced her, hands clasped behind his back. He couldn't