Her father appeared confused and agitated, and wiped at his brow with a handkerchief.
Walling looked furious, his fleshy face and neck mottled red.
Encouraged, she leaned lightly into Marcus, tilting her face toward his. “A black mark does not scare me, Mr. Hawksley. I'm old enough to know that society can be harsh, can be too judgmental, and rarely is correct when it comes to a person's true character.”
He looked at her in astonishment, and then grinned. “Not only have you grown into a beautiful woman with your raven hair and clear blue eyes, but an astute one as well. A true surprise you have become, Lady Isabel.”
She didn't know whether it was the attractive smile that had transformed his face or his flattering words, but her pulse leapt to life, and her feet seemed to drift along on a cloud over the dance floor.
The bold passage of his jet eyes over her face and the curve of her neck heightened her senses. She found herself extremely attuned to his strength, his overwhelming masculinity. He was unlike any other male she had ever known. Here was no fop, no dandy that the young debutantes swooned over. Here was a powerful man whose dangerous nature was disguised by a thin veneer of respectability.
Reason told her to flee, to abandon her impulsiveness, but instead a thrill tingled along her nerves.
Their eyes locked, and his dark brows slanted in a slight frown.
He senses it, too!
she thought.
As the dance neared its end, she realized with bewilderment that she was no longer acting the awed female entirely for the benefit of her father and Lord Walling, but that she indeed felt an undeniable attraction to Marcus Hawksley.