Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed by Jo Beverley Page A

to disturb you again—at least not for a while. Perhaps you will become accustomed to me. But remember,” he added seriously, “if I should do anything else which—er—disturbs you, please tell me immediately. I will keep a mental list.”
    She looked up at him suspiciously and was sure she could see a twinkle in his eyes, but he met her gaze so frankly that she was thwarted. She should have won a victory and persuaded him to cease his blandishments for the time being. Instead, she felt as if he had marked her and the disturbance of which she had complained would be with her always.
    At least, he kept to the spirit of their agreement when they reached the archery butts by happily handing her tuition in the sport over to Lord Randal and challenging his sister to a duel. Both the Kyles were excellent archers, and at short range Lord Wraybourne’s extra strength was little advantage. Sophie was jubilant when she won.
    “How do you go on, Jane?” she asked, coming over to them. “David should be teaching you. He is a much better archer than Randal.” Her teasing eyes suggested other reasons for a change in tutor.
    Lord Randal, his arms around Jane as he corrected the angle of her bow, protested at any thought of depriving him of his task. Jane refused to make any comment. She was surprised to find that Lord Randal’s body close to hers had none of the power to disturb her that she complained of in her fiancé. It must be her awareness of their special relationship which made her so very sensitive to Lord Wraybourne’s every touch. How then was she to resist his influence?
    Glancing at Lord Wraybourne, she saw one elegant eyebrow raised in teasing query and blushed as she realized he was living up to their agreement. She had to admit that the mere thought of standing with his body pressed close to hers caused an uncomfortable warmth. She released the arrow prematurely, and it sailed over the target to land in the earth.
    “I’m sorry, Lord Randal,” she said firmly. “I am clumsy at this sport. Please, let us watch the contests.”
    She was happy to be a spectator as the others played one against the other, and, by carefully avoiding looking at the earl, she found his presence no bother at all. She congratulated herself that he had taken her words to heart and given her the interlude she needed to come to terms with her new life and their relationship.
     
    During the rest of her stay at The Middlehouse, however, Jane became less and less comfortable with Lord Wraybourne’s lack of attendance. It was pleasant, of course, to talk with Lord Randal and to partner him as she learned simple card games or to follow his steps as he taught her the cotillion and the intricate quadrille. It was strange to dance the risqué waltz with him, however. She thought her betrothed might object to her being whirled about so by another man, but Lord Wraybourne merely glanced up benignly and returned to his conversation with the beautiful Mrs. Danvers. Jane couldn’t seem to help how often her eyes were on them as they smiled and talked. Desperately, she would drag her gaze away only to have it drawn back irresistibly a moment later.
    And this was not the only time he commanded her thoughts. Even when he was absent, she found the memory of the fencing match etched in her mind. The two men had fought in the armament room, well lit by dozens of candles. The rest of the party sat to one side except for Sir Marius, who stood opposite to referee.
    Jane was relieved to discover that the fencers used foils with buttons on the ends for safety and thus was able to relax and enjoy the event, but she was disconcerted when both men stripped down to shirts and breeches and removed their boots. They also removed their cravats and high starched collars, leaving their shirts open at the neck. Jane was seeing more man than she had ever done in her life. As swords had hissed and stockinged feet padded back, then forwards, she found her eyes drawn to