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For one forbidden moment, Antonia drank in his sheer physical magnificence. The powerful body, the gleaming gold hair, the perfect profile as precise as if carved from marble. If she had to fall, at least she’d fallen to a man who made the stars stand still with breathless admiration. His was a harder, more ruthless beauty than Johnny’s, and all the more compelling for that.
As if sensing her attention, he glanced up and unerringly caught her eye. Her heart, which had just begun to beat again, slammed to another stop. Across the distance, that obsidian gaze seared her. He claimed her with his eyes and she, poor, gullible fool, couldn’t deny his unspoken demand.
She bit her lip and hot color flushed her cheeks. Thank goodness, nobody spared a moment’s attention for a drab companion. To break that silent intensity, she stared down at her hands twining in her lap. She prayed the desire settling hot and heavy in her belly wasn’t apparent on her face.
She very much feared it was. At least to someone as finely tuned to her reactions as Ranelaw.
After a breathless pause, she chanced another glance and caught a flicker of a self-satisfied smile. Oh, yes, he guessed the torrid images flooding her mind.
Damn him.
Cassie danced with Lord Soames but her gaze was fixed on the doorway. She sent Ranelaw a brilliant smile over her partner’s shoulder. Ranelaw bowed with a depth that indicated interest.
Antonia’s heart plummeted. Cassie’s fascination with this notorious rake hadn’t faded. How could it? Ranelaw was an intrinsically fascinating man. Who knew better than she?
She’d forgotten how her stomach coiled with dismay at every flirtatious glance between Cassie and Lord Ranelaw. Why in heaven’s name had she become involved with him? She was such a stupid jade.
Then he cast her a taunting glance brimming with heated promise, and she answered that question. With one look, he transported her back to Pelham Place and the blazing sexual need that had propelled her into his arms beyond sense, beyond will, beyond self-preservation.
She’d become involved with him because she couldn’t resist.
She was grimly aware she joined a long line of women who embraced disaster for the sake of his lazy smile. A long line of women would come after her.
But nothing controlled the hard thump of her heart or the surge in her blood now she was in the same room as this depraved roué. Nothing stopped her skin aching for his touch. She’d wanted him from the moment she first saw him. Now, having known his possession, desire threatened to incinerate her where she sat.
The quadrille ended and Soames escorted Cassie back to her friends, lingering to talk to her. Antonia’s glance sharpened as she observed the young earl. Soames was an eligible parti. He was in his twenties and she’d heard no vicious gossip about him. Compared to Ranelaw, he looked a callow boy. Unfortunately that was true for most of the men in this room.
Her mind buzzing, Antonia recalled entertainments they’d attended. Had Cassie shown any preference for the earl? She’d been too preoccupied with Ranelaw’s courtship of Cassie—and his pursuit of her—to notice.
A waltz struck up. Ranelaw had respected Mr. Demarest’s ban on the dance. Antonia watched him prowl the ballroom and couldn’t help craning her neck to see which lady he favored.
Prior to their visit to Surrey, he’d made a point of dancing only with Cassie. Perhaps things had changed. Remarkably, he hadn’t yet spoken to the girl.
Had his interest focused on some other woman? Was his flirtation with Cassie over? It seemed too good to be true.
Through her confusion, she watched him cut through the crowd like a shark slicing through deep water.
As he veered nearer, she noticed details she couldn’t discern at a distance. Impossible to insist she wouldn’t look. She was hungry for the sight of him. Had been since she’d fled the summerhouse.
His bright hair was longer and slightly disheveled, as though he’d run his hand through it. He looked tired, for all that he bristled with energy and determination.
She tried to stifle the instinctive impulse to comfort him. He didn’t need comforting. Sharks were nothing but conscienceless predators, and God help any small fish swimming into their range.
She waited for him to select a partner yet still he advanced. Antonia devoted a bewildered moment to wondering what he was doing. Did he mean to slip onto the terrace?
All that lay in his path now was the gaggle of women who observed the festivities without partaking of them.
Oh, no. . .
Shocked denial pierced her as he strode nearer. Every step communicated his implacable determination.
He couldn’t. Surely he couldn’t.
He knew he couldn’t single her out and expect her to emerge unscathed. He might be rash and selfish, but he was neither stupid nor spiteful.
She glanced to either side but none of the other chaperones noticed Ranelaw’s approach. If he went through with this crazy plan, they would. So would every other person in this crowded ballroom. From this ballroom, the news would spread across polite society, branding Antonia a leper. Making people ask questions about Cassandra Demarest’s chaperone. Perhaps even strip away her disguise to discern her true identity.
This was a catastrophe in the making.
