To Sin With A Stranger by Kathryn Caskie Page B

least…furnished.”
    “Sterling…” Grant centered his gaze on his glass of punch and swirled the liquid around inside. “Don’t look up abruptly, but you should know that Miss Carington’s lovely brown eyes are upon you.”
    Sterling raised his gaze and saw that it was true. His chest swelled, knowing she had sought him out. Perhaps this hand was still in play. “So they are.”
    “Another dance set is about to begin,” Siusan advised. “As popular as Miss Carington seems to be this eve, if you wish to further your position, you will wish to approach her now.”
    “I will request a dance…soon enough.”
    “Nay, Sterling,
now
.” Priscilla tipped her head at a tall, auburn-haired young man, only three strides away from the Sinclairs, who was unabashedly studying Isobel. “For if you don’t lead her to the dance floor now,
that
gentleman surely will.”
    Sterling knew the look in the Englishman’s eyes all too well. The man was not merely considering a dance with Miss Carington. He was appraising her, admiring her…and more.
    Sterling did not wait another instant, but bolted for Miss Carington, heedless of the startled ladies and gentlemen forced to leap from his path.
    He held Miss Carington firmly in his sight, but from the periphery of his vision, he caught a glimpse of the Englishman racing for her as well.
    Sterling jerked his head to gauge his competition’s progress. Two other older gentlemen in tails seemed to be clearing a path for the Englishman, who smirked back at Sterling and hastened his strides toward Miss Carington.
    The Englishman was going to reach her first.
    Devil take him
.
    Suddenly a large, round-faced woman, in a lurid cerulean turban, seemed to purposely step directly in front of the Englishman, blocking his path. She sucked in an audible breath and squeezed her eyes tightly as though girding herself for impact.
    Sterling pinned Miss Carington with his gaze. He heard a shriek, and guessed what might have happened, but his focus remained only on the doe-eyed beauty before him.
    He
would have this dance.
    And no other.

Chapter 7
An object in possession seldom retains the same charm it had in pursuit.
    Pliny the Younger
    Isobel feigned an amused laugh in response to Lady Marigold’s story, and was about to beg off from the dreary conversation to fetch a glass of punch, when she glanced up to see two gentlemen racing toward her—or rather one gentleman and a Sinclair.
    Grown ladies leaped out of the way of the rogue bulls’ charge, giggling like misses just out, while men, seeming unaware, turned their shoulders into the way of Lord Blackburn.
    “Lud, Issy, they are headed straight for you!” Christiana exclaimed. She grasped Isobel’s arm in her surprise, which only prevented either of them from fleeing. The matrons who had been standing with the two younger women, chirped their delight with the unexpected race and hurriedly chasséd behind them.
    Isobel struggled against Christiana’s grip until she noticed that all eyes were upon her. She stilled, and in the few seconds she had remaining before the gentlemen would arrive before her, she schooled her features and donned a mask of absolute amusement.
    La, she only hoped Lord Blackburn would not reach her first, but rather the other man whose features were more delicate. His appearance gave Isobel the impression that he was gentle and cultured, unlike the Sinclair brute. But her hope was not to be.
    Sterling was not the least breathless, as she assumed he would certainly be after running the
ton
’s gauntlet. His pride in his victory was clear in his pale eyes, gleaming down at her like fine polished silver.
    The other gentleman was at his back within an instant, still trying to make his way to her, but the ladies of the
ton
would not have it. They closed the circle around Isobel and Lord Blackburn, standing hip to silk-covered hip to prevent anyone from approaching.
    Lord Blackburn raised his arm to Isobel. “Dear Miss