The Marker by Meggan Connors Page A

how those glittering turquoise eyes gazed at her approvingly, and her heart did an excited dance in her chest. A dark look crossed his face, but once she twirled brightly in front of him, his expression had changed into something altogether different, and the delight in his face when she had batted her eyes at him, daring him to tease her, had set her heart on fire.
    Glancing at him over her shoulder, she had to admire his form—she wasn’t the only one beautifully attired. His longish, golden mane was swept back from his forehead, and he wore a black double-breasted dress coat over a crimson waistcoat, a crisp white shirt, and a bow tie. Black trousers and dark kidskin gloves finished the ensemble. Any man would be dashing in the clothing Nicholas had chosen for himself. He looked like the prince she had always dreamt would sweep her off her feet. He was so handsome Lexie had to remind herself to breathe when he extended her hand to her.
    She accepted and graced him with a nod, silently telling him she approved of his appearance, too, and he laughed. “Still not speaking to me?” When her smile abruptly fell to a scowl, he gave her a boyish, lopsided grin and said, “It was a pleasure to hear your voice. I thought for certain it had returned. A pity. You have a beautiful voice. I’ve missed it.”
    She meant to smile demurely, and was horrified when, instead of just a smile, she’d given him a saucy little grin and a wink. The problem was, she enjoyed having Nicholas’s attention, how he teased her and tried to cajole her into talking again. The same part of her was a little afraid that, should she speak to him, the game would end, and with it, this lovely interplay between them.
    He chuckled lowly. “Lexie, sweet, you may very well be the death of me.” With those words, he bent and kissed her hand, ever the gallant prince.
    Lexie’s heart hammered in her chest, his lips burning her skin as he kissed her, even through the thin cloth of her satin gloves. A delighted shiver rippled down her spine, and she almost forgot herself and closed her eyes, wanting to lose herself in the glory of his touch. If she believed in fairy tales, she would have believed she had walked straight into one tonight. Like the tales of the princesses of old, Nicholas, in his own backward fashion, was saving her. She wouldn’t have nights like this once she wed, she would never again have the attention of a handsome young man, nor experience the heady rush accompanying the sensation of his lips on her skin. Her marriage would be survivable because she would have these sweet, precious memories of the days when a heart-breakingly attractive gentleman had attempted to woo her and sweep her off her feet.
    Nicholas draped a dark wrapper over her shoulders, and she smiled in response. Clearing his throat again, he said, “I have a little something for you to wear. They seem somehow more appropriate, given what you’re wearing.” He pulled aside her curls, and she felt his warm breath on the nape of her neck, his hands on her bare shoulders. Shocking, the tingles such contact sent down her spine. Her stomach somersaulted, her entire body alive with the anticipation of his touch.
    What was he doing to her?
    He reached around her and put a necklace around her throat. Bending his head close to hers, he clasped heavy earrings to her ears, his hands grazing the tender spot beneath her earlobe, his kidskin-encased fingers trailing a path down her neck to her collarbone. She closed her eyes and a small sound escaped her. For the second time tonight, Lexie was mortified at her own actions, shocked the breathy, eager sound had actually come from her lips. She hoped with everything she had Nicholas hadn’t noticed.
    But of course he had. His eyes alight with blatant lust, he regarded her for a moment. Motioning to the mirror on the wall behind her, he said, “You should see yourself, Miss Markland. I must say, my rubies have never looked