“They say he is in line for a crown,” Mary Garrett breathed, her avid gaze hungrily regarding the powerful elegance of Mr. Ravel as he twirled a giddy Lady Woodson about the dance floor.
Simone gave a small sniff as she waved her satin fan until her golden curls bounced in the breeze. She had not seen the aggravating gentleman for the past two days, and the realization that she had spent each day in an agony of nervous tension awaiting his arrival, made her long to break something.
His arrogant neck preferably,
she pettily acknowledged.
“Every foreign gentleman claims to be in line for a crown,” she retorted, her own gaze fastened onto the male body attired in black as it moved with uncanny grace.
Less than a week ago she thought that she knew all there was to know of men.
They were as a rule easily managed. Allow them to believe that you found them fascinating, charming and desirable and they would readily be clay in her hands. Especially when they had hopes of seducing her.
But Gideon ...
He refused to follow the pattern she had come to expect. He did not treat her as a delicate flower he longed to pluck. Nor did he readily dance to her tune. Instead he had thrust his way into her life, seared her with his touch and then waltzed away as if she were thoroughly irrelevant.
Her teeth suddenly gritted.
No one was allowed to dismiss her with such disregard, she told herself. Not again.
Unaware of her dark thoughts, Mary, a lovely widow with sable hair and curvaceous form, heaved a longing sigh.
“Perhaps, but they do not all possess the means of purchasing a home in Mayfair. And certainly none other is blessed with such indecent beauty. I would give my diamond necklace for an evening in his arms.”
Her teeth gritted even tighter.
The thought of Gideon in the grasp of the insatiable widow was not at all pleasing.
A ridiculous weakness she was not about to reveal.
No one would be allowed to know the manner Mr. Ravel preyed upon her mind.
No one.
“You could always make him the offer,” she said, her fan fluttering until it threatened to fly from her fingers. “I have heard the rumor that he is on the hunt of a fortune.”
“An absurd rumor, unfortunately,” Mary bemoaned. “He has been spreading enough money about town to reassure the most suspicious of matrons that he is deep in the pocket. I assure you if he were in the market I would have already purchased his services.” There was a faint pause as Mary turned to regard her with knowing brown eyes. “If you had not snatched him up first.”
Simone stiffened in shock. “Me?”
Although five years older than Simone, the widow had taken her under her wing when she had first arrived in London. She had not only helped Simone establish her image as the “Wicked Temptress,” but she had helped to choose the select circle of friends that would ensure her success.
She did, however, possess an uncanny habit of speaking her mind with amazing frankness.
“I have seen how your gaze follows him.”
Simone gave a loud sniff. “He is arrogant, opinionated and far too aware of his own charms.”
Mary gave a low laugh as her gaze returned to the ebony-haired gentleman.
“What does that have to do with anything? He is delectable.”
“He is passable, I suppose.”
“You do not fool me. You are no more immune than the rest of us poor females.”
Simone’s eyes darkened. Unlike Mary she did not allow herself to be prey to her desires. She did not tumble into lust with each new gentleman who appeared upon the horizon, nor did she readily entangle herself in sordid affairs.
Not even with a gentleman who made her skin tingle and her heart race.
She remained in complete control of herself at all times.
Complete control.
“I assure you that I am utterly immune,” she retorted in tight tones. “Although ...”
Mary regarded her with a hint of curiosity. “What?”
“I would not deny a desire to challenge that male arrogance. He is far too confident that he is irresistible.”
“Perhaps because he is irresistible,” Mary pointed out.
“Fah.”
The dark eyes sparkled in a taunting manner at Simone’s confident manner. “Pretend to yourself if you wish, Simone, but do not be surprised to discover yourself burned after toying with such dangerous flames.”
For no reason at all Simone felt a swirl of unease rush through her stomach.
She did not wish to be reminded of the danger that shimmered about Mr. Ravel like a cloak of warning. He had offered a challenge that she could not ignore. Not without appearing a coward. Something she could not bear.
“Save your sympathies for Mr. Ravel. He will be in need of them,” she said in tones far more daring than she felt.
Mary laughed in open disbelief. “We shall see.”
“We shall, indeed.” Simone snapped her fan shut as the music came to an end. It was time to teach Mr. Ravel she was not to be so easily discounted, she told herself, even as a tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her she was being a fool. “Excuse me.”
Keeping her gaze covertly trained upon the elegant gentleman, Simone threaded her way through the guests that filled the ballroom. She determinedly ignored those who attempted to attract her attention as she angled toward the dance floor directly in the path of Mr. Ravel. He had managed to avoid her for the past hour. He would not be allowed to escape upon this occasion.
Hoping that no one could note the rapid beat of her heart or the manner her hands clutched the folds of her crimson silk gown she stepped directly in front of him.
With a graceful ease he managed to halt and offer a smooth bow before rising and regarding her with his midnight gaze.
“Ah, Lady Gilbert.”
Simone forgot to breathe.
Lost in the dark beauty of his eyes Simone felt the tangible power of him reach out to wrap about her. It feathered over her skin and tugged at something deep within her. Fierce, shimmering heat flared through her, making her knees weak and her mouth dry.
Botheration.
No man should be able to affect her so deeply.
Not by just being near.
It was indecent.
Desperately attempting to remind herself of the reason she sought him out in the first place, she plastered a stiff smile to her lips.
“Mr. Ravel.”
The sculpted lips curved as he slowly surveyed her slender form, lingering with obvious interest on the low cut of her neckline before returning to her flushed features.
“I trust you are enjoying your evening?”
Forcing her stiff muscles to relax, Simone opened her fan to slowly cool her heated cheeks.
She was the one in command, she reminded herself sternly.
It was time she began commanding.
“’Tis much like any other ball,” she retorted with a bored glance about the glittering room. “The same guests, the same gossip, the same predictable flirtations.”
A raven brow lifted in unspoken mockery. “You are bored?”
“More resigned,” she drawled. “I continue to hope that I might encounter one who is willing to toss aside the conventional expectations. Unfortunately there are so few in society willing to be more than mindless sheep following the flock.”
“You would prefer wolves to sheep?”
“They would most certainly add a bit of spice to the dull evening.”
The pale, beautiful features hardened at her taunting words. “You do not know of what you speak. Be glad you are surrounded by harmless sheep. They at least do not threaten to devour you.”
The rough velvet voice struck a chill in her heart before she was giving a determined shake of her head.
These vague innuendos were becoming wearisome.
She had enough true worries to plague her mind without jumping at shadows.
“I suppose you are referring to the mysterious danger you have elected yourself to protect me from?”
He stepped closer, not at all amused by her flippant tone.
“I speak of the foolishness of toying with matters beyond your comprehension.”
There was something so patronizing in his manner that Simone instinctively stiffened.
“Your arrogance continues to astonish me. I do not need to be warned as if I were a child.”
“But you are a child in many ways despite your attempts at sophistication.”
That was it.
Simone nearly broke her fan in half as she struggled to maintain her composure.
A child?
How dare he?
The most elusive, handsome and charming of London gentlemen battled for just a smile. She was toasted as an Incomparable.
Oh yes, he was certainly overdue for a well deserved lesson in how to treat a lady.
She lowered her lashes so that she could peer beneath them in a coy manner.
“Perhaps you should regard me a bit closer, Mr. Ravel. I can assure you that I am a fully mature woman.”
A dangerous stillness pooled about him as he deliberately glanced back down to the vast amount of skin revealed by the crimson gown.
“You wish to challenge me?” he at last purred in silky tones, reaching without warning to grasp her elbow and steer her toward a distant door. “Very well.”
“What?” Simone stumbled over her skirts as she found herself being easily forced through the crowd. “Where are you taking me?”
He glanced down at her with a sardonic smile. “You requested that I regard you a bit closer; I can hardly do so in the midst of a crowded ballroom.”
Simone’s eyes widened. Surely he did not think she was going to actually allow him to ... to view more than was already on display?
“I believe you misunderstood me, sir,” she said in breathless tones. She might be an expert in flirtatious banter, but that was as far as her skills extended.
The dark gaze seared into her wide eyes. “Are you frightened, my dear?”
“Of course not,” she hastily denied.
“You prefer to remain here and graze among the sheep?”
There was no missing the challenge in his voice and Simone bit her bottom lip. It was one thing to calmly plot to bring this gentleman to heel, it was quite another to be whisked out of the ballroom and perhaps find herself treading waters that were far more dangerous than she had expected.
Only the hint of smug superiority in the dark eyes forced her to thrust aside the shivers of warning that raced through her.
“No.”
Something indefinable smoldered to life in the midnight eyes at her simple word.
“Then come along.”
His grasp tightened and with extraordinary ease he managed to clear a path and lead her onto the darkened terrace. He did not halt as she had expected but continued toward the stairs that led to the shadowed garden. In silence they followed the narrow trail that at last ended in a circle of marble benches with a fountain in the center.
The sultry heat surrounded them, the music only faintly audible as they slowed to a halt beside the fountain. Hoping to hide her unease, Simone pulled away and trailed her fingers through the water in the marble basin.
It was the perfect opportunity to weave her spell of seduction, but she found it oddly difficult to conjure the flirtatious manner that came so easy when in the company of most gentlemen.
Of course when she was in the company of other men the air did not feel so thick she could barely breathe and her stomach did not quiver as if frantic butterflies were battling to be released, she acknowledged wryly.
Feeling the prickles of awareness as his gaze swept over the long curtain of golden curls she had left loose to tumble about her shoulders, she reluctantly lifted her head.
She could not stand here like a nitwitted schoolgirl forever.
“I believe I should tell you that I was warned to beware you by an old acquaintance of yours,” she at last murmured, unable to conjure anything remotely clever to say.
Bathed in silver moonlight the refined features appeared to harden at her words.
“Were you?”
“Yes, a Mr. Soltern.”
An odd ripple seemed to stir the air as the midnight eyes abruptly narrowed.
“I see. And what did he tell you?”
Simone absently rubbed the rash of bumps upon her arms, sensing the tension that flowed from Gideon. Not for the first time she wondered precisely what had occurred between this gentleman and Mr. Soltern to create such animosity.