Everyone's gaze turned to the door.
Dazzlingly handsome, resplendent in white tie and tails, his dark hair gleaming in the lamplight, the Viscount Ranelagh bestowed a smile on his hostess. "You're the only cousin I like," he drawled softly, but the room was so quiet, his voice carried to the farthest corner.
And the faint slur of intoxication couldn't be missed.
Caroline rose from her seat at the head of the table. "We were just finishing, darling. I don't expect you came to dine," she added, moving toward the man who could make any reception a success. It was a decided coup that Sam had come, although there was little doubt who had drawn him here. "Would you like to lead me out in the first dance?"
He bowed with exquisite finesse and offered her his hand.
Those gauging the degree of his drunkenness took note of his grace. Not too drunk, but then, when was he?
As Caroline and Sam entered the ballroom moments later, the orchestra began playing and most of the guests followed their hostess and Ranelagh onto the dance floor. The viscount partnered his cousin twice and then proceeded to systematically bestow his charm and waltzing skills on every female in the room. Save Alex. A fact noted by all.
Refusing to regard the curious looks and the occasional blunt query, Alex gave her attention to the inevitable array of suitors, entertaining them all with wit and charm. She danced almost every dance and never once looked in Sam's direction. But as midnight approached, the tension in her shoulders was becoming unbearable, while her splitting headache made it almost impossible to smile. Serge had taken his conge with good grace, and ever since, Alex had been looking for an opportunity to leave. When her most recent dance partner went to fetch her a lemonade, she found herself momentarily alone, and seizing the chance, she quickly slipped into a curtained alcove that opened onto a servants' passage.
In moments she found her way to the main corridor. She ran down the stairs, reaching the entrance hall without meeting anyone. After a footman brought out her wrap, she dismissed his offer to call her carriage. "My driver is just outside," she said. "I'm perfectly fine."
Which she wasn't. She had to get away from Sam and all the women fawning over him. She had to get a grip on her emotions.
Hurrying down the brick drive, she counted the carriages as she passed, anticipating the moment of her deliverance. When she'd reach hers, climb in, and shut the door.
"How was Harry?"
The voice was familiar, close, scented with brandy.
But she didn't stop because she wasn't capable of being as casual as he when she would have much preferred hitting him or screaming at him or making love to him-or maybe all three together. When none were appropriate. When none would solve her dilemma.
Suddenly, she was lifted off her feet, spun around, and set down again, although the grip on her waist didn't loosen.
"How was Harry?" Sam repeated, his voice whisper soft, his dark gaze only inches away.
"I don't have to tell you." Even to her ears she sounded petulant.
"Are you a child or-"
"Are you?" she snapped. "You're not exactly acting like an adult. And you're drunk."
"I'm never drunk."
"Should we take a vote among the guests?"
"I don't give a damn about the guests. Tell me about Harry."
"Why don't you tell me about Adelaide or Charlotte or Helen, not to mention Tatiana, Barbara, Lydia, and Nadia. Have I left out anyone tonight?"
"They were all boring, if you must know. Now, about Harry. Did you fuck him?"
"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't. It's none of your business."
Tightening his grip, he jerked her hard against his body. "Perhaps I'm just a little drunk," he admitted, his gaze half lidded. "I suggest you answer me."
"If I scream, Sam, there are any number of drivers and retainers who will hear. We're not in the Adelphi, where your servants do what you wish. So it might be wise if you release me and I'll bid you good night."
"Do you think I care about the drivers and servants?" Abruptly lifting her into his arms, he protected her face with one hand and strode through the yew hedge bordering the drive. Coming out the other side, he glanced around, getting his bearings.
"I'm going to scream," she hissed, the scent of pine in her hair.
"Go ahead." He started walking.
Taking note of their isolation, she understood his indifference. "Sam, this is medieval," she said in what she hoped was a reasonable voice. "I'm already furious with you, and this is only-"
"I've been furious since you left this morning."
"I took issue with being seduced against my will last night," she said coolly.
He snorted.
"I wanted to leave."
"Sure you did. After which climax? The first or the tenth?"
"Fine. You're the quintessential stud. Is that what you want to hear?"
"What I want to hear is whether you fucked Harry today."
"No, I didn't. I know that might be hard for someone like you to fathom, but there it is. Welcome to the real world."
A smile appeared on his face. "Why didn't you say so before?"
"Because I didn't want to see you smile like that, that's why."
"You must have disappointed him."
"Yes, I'm sure I did. Just like you disappointed all the ladies at Caroline's who were hoping to share your bed tonight."
"The night's not over yet."
She slapped him so hard, the pain jarred her shoulder.
He grunted but didn't miss a stride. "I'll fuck you first, darling." His voice was silky. "So save your energy."
"No you won't," she said through gritted teeth.
"Allow me to disagree. With a hot little cunt like yours, you're always ready for fucking. All those old men made you hungry for cock."
"You-you… insolent, despicable, swaggering bastard! Put me down this instant!"
"I'll be putting you down in my bed, or if you really can't wait, we'll do it in my carriage on the way to my apartment."
"Sam!" She struggled against his hold. "I don't want this!" Kicking and twisting, she pummeled him with her fists. "I don't want you! I don't, I don't, I don't!"
Immune to her assault, he only tightened his hold and continued his progress through Caroline's moonlit garden.
The brute strength of his hard, muscled body, the effortless way in which he carried her, his purposeful lust, provoked a small, fevered intoxication… insidious, alarming-tantalizing. She steeled herself against the sensations, but the first tiny ripples irrepressibly cascaded down her vagina, the beginning pulse of arousal warmed her blood, a breathlessness quite apart from her struggles made itself known, and try as she might to ignore the piquant heat, she couldn't deny it. Horrified at her response, she went still, appalled to find herself no different from all the others.
Intuitively recognizing female willingness, he bent to gently kiss her forehead. "I missed you today," he whispered.
She'd missed him, but she couldn't dismiss her anger or admit to it. "You ruined my day completely," she replied, waspish and fretful.
"I'll apologize any way you wish."
The innuendo in his words, no matter how silken, further raised her ire. "I'm sure you will. But I'm not interested."
"Tell me what you want and I'll do it."
"I want you to set me down and go away."
"I wish I could." Each word was neutral, bland.
"Of course you can. You can do anything you want."
"If I weren't so selfish, I could. Ask me to do something more reasonable. Something we could do together," he added with a cheeky grin.
"You're so damned sure of yourself, aren't you?"
"Of course not," he lied.
She gazed at him for a speculative moment, his harsh features limned by moonlight, his beauty difficult to ignore, her ability to alter the balance of power restricted by his sheer size alone-not to mention any number of other more equivocal reasons. He wasn't going to release her. That much was plain. "What if we were to compromise?" she said, looking for advantage in this uneven contest.