Wallflower Gone Wild by Maya Rodale Page A

said, and Olivia smiled faintly as hopes for companionship and company from a man she loved drifted further and further away. Everything about this possible looming marriage was the opposite of everything she’d ever dreamt of.
    Phinn came to a stop before a slight alcove made from two pillars, a settee in its dim recesses. It was the sort of dark, secluded, intimate and romantic spot that would be ideal for a lovers’ interlude. Or something more nefarious.
    Her heartbeat quickened.
    Olivia couldn’t help it: she gazed up into his green eyes even though she knew the intensity of his gaze made her feel things that were very inconvenient. It was just that for so long, no one ever looked at her anymore. And then, out of nowhere, he’d appeared, apparently captivated by her from across the ballroom. Why did the one handsome stranger to notice her have to be none other than the Mad Baron?
    Her gaze inevitably drifted to that menacing scar. What happened? She wanted to ask, but she didn’t really want to know. It was too bad he was so dangerous. He wouldn’t murder her in the ballroom, would he? No, there were too many witnesses.
    “Lady Olivia, I don’t mean to frighten you. I just want to know you. When we first met, I felt myself drawn to you,” he said in a low voice that sent shivers up and down her spine.
    “I as well,” she confessed. “Yet . . .”
    He took a step closer and she was all too aware of how large he was. She blushed, remembering the firmness of his chest when she’d fallen into him and his kiss upon her hand. What if tonight he dared more? Her heart pounded at the prospect—but was that desire or fear?
    If it weren’t for his dangerous past . . .
    “I really should get back to my friends,” Olivia said a touch breathlessly. Besides, the less the ton talked about her and the Mad Baron, the better her chances of escaping this courtship before it was too late.
    “Of course,” Phinn said obligingly. Ever the gentleman. Wasn’t that at odds with his murdering past? She became aware that he was aware of her efforts to lose him. And yet, would he still endeavor to court her or would he step aside?
    They had taken but a few steps when another gentleman stepped into their path. He was almost as tall as Phinn, but not as fit. He had unruly blond hair and a grin upon seeing them.
    “If it isn’t the happy couple,” he said with a laugh.
    “Go away, Rogan,” Phinn said, sounding exasperated. Olivia found herself intrigued. This jovial wastrel didn’t seem like the company a brooding, murderous recluse would keep.
    “You’re not going to introduce me to your lady?” Rogan asked, nudging Phinn in the ribs.
    “Lady Olivia, may I present my friend, Lord Rogan. Ignore everything he says.”
    Lord Rogan just grinned wickedly and said, “Phinn has been speaking highly of you.”
    “Except that. Don’t ignore that,” Phinn countered.
    “It’s nice to meet you,” Olivia said as this Lord Rogan bowed and kissed her hand and then winked at her. Finally, gentlemen were starting to notice her! Unfortunately, it was the friend of the man courting her.
    “We were just returning Lady Olivia to her friends,” Phinn said, starting to walk away and leading Olivia with him. “She is eager to find them.”
    “I’ll join you. I’d love to make their acquaintance,” Rogan said, falling into step beside them. “Especially before the wedding breakfast.”
    They strolled through the ballroom, weaving through the crowd, on their way to where Olivia had spotted Prudence and Emma in their usual spot. Just a few more steps to safety and freedom when—
    She slipped on something. Her daintily slippered feet flew from underneath her. Olivia’s arms flailed wildly in a desperate attempt to right herself. She was aware of looking foolish and she was aware of falling backward . . . falling . . . falling . . .
    And then she was caught. Strong arms closed around her, hands splaying across her belly