Mary leaned closer to him, her breath reaching his face. This time, the man turned slightly in his seat with her still on his lap. He then set the glass on the bar stand behind him, all the while looking at her. The frown on his face vanished; instead, intrigue was etched on his features.
After setting the glass down, he shifted her even closer to him, and she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. A shiver ran down her spine, and a pulsating excitement coursed through her bones, causing her to involuntarily inch back. Despite her attempt to move away, he held her waist and drew her closer.
Marybeth gulped, her eyes widening with fear. What was he doing? Dear Heavens, not so close, please. This was the first time she had been this close to any man. Her life had been surrounded by books, avoiding balls and soirees. Not to mention, she was sensitive about her looks, fully aware that gentlemen would never notice her. Being close to a man was something she feared, and the only reason she had mustered the bravery to even sit on his lap was because of the events of the day and Mr. John's presence.
"Lady," the man whispered in her ear, his voice icy cold, chilling even compared to the night air. It was the kind of voice that could make one's knees wobble with fear, causing a child to flee in fright. Yet, there was a certain drawl to his tone that strangely made her heart beat with excitement. It was an odd sensation. "How brave of you to..." he started, but then trailed off, his hand lifting to her face, fingers tracing over her nose where her freckles lay.
Mary blinked in alarm, about to push back, but he pulled her closer, his grip tightening on her waist. This was a mistake, a mistake she vowed never to repeat.
"The bravery of you to sit on my lap," he continued, thankfully still whispering so no one else could hear.
Mary closed her eyes, feeling embarrassed and knowing she would have to apologize for this later. But first, she needed to make Mr. John believe her virginity was no more.
"Oh, stop it, dear," she giggled, avoiding eye contact with him and instead looking over at Mr. John, who appeared agitated. If she gazed at this handsome man too long, she might forget her purpose. "I didn't realize you were enjoying my company so much."
"Miss Marybeth," Mr. John growled with anger, though he made no move towards them. Perhaps he was embarrassed on her behalf.
"I want you again, dear. Why don't we go back to the room?", Mary continued, disregarding the old peer who was still present.
The man's gaze was fixed on her, his hand that had been on her face now retreating as his head tilted to the side, watching her intently. A silent tension enveloped them as they locked eyes. Eventually, he seemed to piece together her predicament, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth momentarily before vanishing.
His attention shifted away from her toward the old man, his eyes cold and piercing, causing the elder peer to shiver in fear. To Mary's surprise, he leaned closer to her, his breath grazing her ear as he spoke, intentionally loud enough for Mr. John to hear, all the while maintaining his intense stare at the old peer.
"If you remain on my lap, I might just have you right here in front of these people. Is that what you want?" he warned.
Mary tensed, a rush of excitement coursing through her. Partly because the man seemed to comprehend her situation and was taking her side, and partly because she harbored a curiosity to know what it felt like to be desired by a man, especially one as handsome as him. "Get ahold of yourself, Marybeth," she silently chastised herself.
"You wr*tch!" Mr. John cursed, charging towards them this time. "I care not if you've laid down with countless men; you are still going to be my wife."
This declaration stoked anger within Mary, but before she could respond, the handsome man interjected dryly, "You wish, old man, that you could claim this lady."
Mary locked eyes with him, perplexed by his statement. However, he wasn't looking at her; his focus remained fixed on Mr. John, who had paused in his advance.
Grinding his teeth, Mr. John shot a glare at the young man. "You have nothing on me. I am the wealthiest peer in society, and you will not be able to win the the lady."
"Oh," the handsome man chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You think so," he murmured, eyeing Mr. John with intrigue.
Mr. John appeared on the verge of responding but seemed to falter, struck by an unfamiliar sense of unease. Never had a man instilled this much fear in him at first sight, rendering him at a loss for words. Fuming, he growled, "This is not over, Miss Marybeth," before storming out of the club house, his guards following closely behind.
"Phew," Mary let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good gracious," she muttered, staring towards the club door where Mr. John had just exited. "How daring of that old man to believe he could make me one of his mistresses." With a disgusted snort, she turned back to the handsome man.
His gaze lingered on hers, his expression unreadable but enough to send a shiver down her spine. Clearing her throat, she softened her expression to one of gratitude as she began, "I apologize for this situation, but you have saved my life and for that, I am truly grat..."
"Get up," the man interrupted, his voice tinged with impatience, causing Mary to blink at him in shock.