To Sin With A Stranger by Kathryn Caskie

light of the chandeliers. The color of the gown seemed to heighten the porcelain smoothness of her skin, yet at the same time enhancing the fullness of her exquisite mouth, and heighten the beguiling flush atop her high cheekbones. Her hair, glistening like spun gold, was drawn elegantly atop her head and pinned into place with sparkling ruby brilliants.
    She did not move, but all eyes were drawn to her.
    Sterling didn’t move either. He couldn’t. He was too dazzled by her beauty and wholly stunned by her passive but entirely visceral command of him.
    Grant clapped a hand to Sterling’s back and pressed him forward, just as the crowd closed behind Miss Carington and, like a wave-surge, washed her straight toward him.
    Her eyes were wild and wide as revelers rushed her across the dance floor so quickly that she did not even have the forethought to raise her hands to brace herself for the inevitable collision with him.
    Sterling opened his arms, and within an instant, she was thrust hard against his chest. He felt her start to fall backward, and instinctively wrapped his arms around her and held her fast.
    Her hair smelled faintly of flowers, bringing to his mind the welcoming scent of pink heather on the moors. Without thinking, he closed his eyes for a moment and reveled in the earthy sweetness that so reminded him of Scotland.
    The smallest sigh fell from her lips in that momentary silence of the ballroom, and she turned her brown eyes up to meet his gaze.
    “Are you well?” he asked her softly and sincerely.
    She nodded slowly at first, then faster as she found her feet and sense enough to raise her palms and push away, breaking his embrace.
    It was too fast, it seemed, for she staggered backward, and he reached out and caught her hand to steady her.
    Slowly she lifted her eyes to his again, and to his astonishment, she lifted her lips as well, and smiled warmly at him. Then, without releasing his hand, she graced him with a most unexpected curtsy. “Thank you, Lord Blackburn,” she said quietly.
    By instinct alone, for thought seemed well beyond his grasp just then, he bent and bowed deeply, nodding his head to her. “Miss Carington, I am grateful I could assist you.”
    The crowd roared and clapped, jolting Sterling and making his eardrums vibrate as the sound reverberated off the walls, consuming his senses.
    As the applause melted, the musicians began to play, and the attention that was wholly theirs only a moment before dispersed and scattered throughout the ballroom in the form of conversation, dancing, and merriment.
    Miss Carington, oddly enough, did not seem unnerved by the cheers of the assembly seconds before.
    She peered up at him with her expressive eyes, then she arched the fine slash of her right eyebrow as though waiting for something.
    He realized then that he was about to blunder socially again if he did not honor her in some way. “Miss Carington, it seems we are being given a third chance to meet properly”—he raised his lips and flashed a gallant smile—“which is only right, since I have recently learned that we are to be married.” Inwardly he winced, belatedly regretting his reference to the wager.
    Miss Carington did not falter. She lowered her head slightly, tilting it to the side as she looked up at him through her thick lashes. “I have heard the same, Lord Blackburn. Interesting, is it not?” She rose up on her toes just a bit, then whispered in hardly a quiet tone at all, “It is my belief that the reports of our upcoming wedding are only rumors…though I could be mistaken.” She did not smile.
    Though the room was close and still, the hair upon Sterling’s head seemed to spring on end as surely as if a cool breeze had whisked through. What could he offer in reply? He did not know exactly how to take her comment. Was she toying with him, as he had with her the last two times they encountered each other?
    He studied her more closely, gazed at her eyes and her mouth for clues