Her sister's peace and virtue in exchange for cold hard pounds?
"And here I thought I'd managed to escape family dinners with the in-laws," he said. "I thought your parents would be thrilled to have landed me."
Adele took the opening he gave her and smiled in return. "Believe it or not, Your Grace, you are not universally adored."
"No?" Despite the mask, she was certain one eyebrow arched faux mockingly. "What conspiracy is this?"
"Perhaps you would earn the hearts of others more easily if you smiled more."
"You like my smile."
"So brilliant for its rarity," she responded, with the faintest flirtatious shrug. "Is that not the way of precious things?"
"Like diamonds, for instance?" His gaze dipped to the elegant array that dripped into her cleavage. "Though one would doubt their scarcity, considering how positively aglitter you are tonight."
He swept her beneath his arm, and then she was back in his arms, slightly breathless. This time he drew her closer, and she couldn't escape the brush of his thighs against her skirts or the stroke of his thumb across the inside of her wrist.
"You seem intrigued by them. I thought I was the one with the obsession with diamonds?"
"You can only blame yourself," he whispered. "All I can think about is your parting words of yesterday. What was it you said? 'Maybe I'll wear nothing but my diamonds when you visit my chambers....'"
She'd rarely been so bold before. Adele fought to conquer the blush she could feel heating her cheeks.
He held her too closely now, and she caught the flash of speculative glances thrown their way.
"People are watching us," she whispered.
"I know."
Malloryn spun her under his arm again, his palm resting but briefly on her silk-clad waist. By the time she waltzed back into his arms, they'd escaped the press of dancers, and he'd somehow maneuvered her under the arch of ivy that led to the gardens.
Away from the ballroom.
"Why don't we go someplace private where we can escape their prying eyes?"
"How convenient, Your Grace."
"I thought so myself."
Adele rested her hand in his, some part of her missing his touch on her waist. "I only agreed to a dance."
"I'm trying to convince you it would be in your interest to accompany me further."
Adele shivered as his voice lowered. "In my interest?"
"You haven't yet accepted my apology. I thought to earn it instead."
"How?"
She looked at his mouth, barely inches above her own. The same mouth that had been on her breast yesterday afternoon. As if the memory conjured the sensation of his touch, Adele felt it again, her nipples hardening behind the crush of her corset.
"Don't look at me like that, my dear." A whisper of pure temptation. "I'm not going to ruin the surprise."
Malloryn's voice had always been a weapon. She'd heard actors on stage with less control than he wielded. One second his mouth caressed her name, made her think of silken sheets and the heated lash of his tongue; the next it was a cutting whip, flaying the skin off someone who'd crossed him.
But now....
Lucifer tempting angels to sin.
"Are you going to allow me to steal you away to the gardens for a midnight rendezvous?"
Somehow she found her breath as he took a step back into the shadows of the arch. "Should I? I'm still not entirely certain I should forgive you."
"I dare you," he replied, holding his gloved hand out to her with a merciless smile curving his lips. "I'll make it worth your while."
And Adele, damn her better sense, couldn't stop herself from taking his hand.
She was clad in cobalt blue with a peacock mask dripping feathers, and her hair gleamed like pure gilt in the lantern-light.
Think what he might about her, Adele was born for moonlight and silk, stolen kisses and whispers, throaty laughter and lies. In other circumstances, Malloryn might have pursued her.
He wanted to unearth that pale, creamy skin and reveal the flawless curves beneath the silk. He wanted to pin her to his mattress and fuck his way into her, making her scream with pleasure. He wanted to bind her wrists behind her back and leave her helpless to his whims.
It was what he disliked most about her: his inability to deny that some dark part of him found her irresistible.
It was the way she always challenged him.
It had to be.
"You think to ravish me in the garden, Your Grace?" Adele fanned herself, glancing around at the greenery as if disinterested. "First the carriage and now this. Do you have some aversion to beds?"
Malloryn tossed his mask carelessly aside as they reached the folly, and stepped toward her. Lanterns were strung throughout the trees, leaving her radiant and glowing. "Perhaps I can't resist you long enough to wait."
The faintest of laughs escaped her. "Tell me, is any woman actually foolish enough to fall for that ruse?"
"Is it so impossible? You're the most beautiful woman inside that ball."
Despite the fact she was possibly an agent of his enemy, he didn't deny the truth.
Adele speared him with a look. "Now I know you're up to something. You despise me, Your Grace. You've made no attempt to mask your opinion of me—until now—which means you have an ulterior motive."
"I don't despise you."
"You give a fair approximation of it."
"I despised your tactics in bringing me to heel." He considered her. "You've always been beautiful. I state it as a matter of fact, not flattery. And... you did save my life when I was shot."
It was the first time he'd ever truly touched his wife.
Blue bloods could heal from practically anything, but when Balfour put a mind-controlling device inside Gemma and she'd shot him, he'd been bleeding so badly he couldn't pursue her when she went after the queen.