He shouldn’t have come to this pointless affair. What had in the past served as amusement no longer amused; what had passed for diversion now left him indifferent. Whatever human impulses had served him in the two years since India hadn’t survived his departure from Oak Knoll, his ability to conjure up tender emotion gone.
Having listened to the fifth or tenth or twentieth sweetly insinuating remark about his new singleness, he’d just decided to make his excuses and leave when he was tapped on the shoulder and a familiar, honeyed voice said, “Finally, the prodigal has returned.”
Turning around, he saw salvation of a sort outfitted in cloth of gold and smiling up at him. “Nell,” he said with a freshening sense of appreciation. His dark gaze drifted down her splendid body, flauntingly festooned in shimmering gold. “I thought you were abroad.”
“I was. Excuse me, ladies,” she crisply said, taking Oz’s arm. “Lennox promised me this dance.”
He hadn’t danced since he’d danced with Isolde at Pamela’s, but Nell’s sophisticated chatter, the comfortable feel of her in his arms, her indifference to emotion, made her safe, helped his demons recede-if only temporarily.
But it was enough after a fortnight of alcohol and too vivid dreams.
It was enough not to shrink from a woman.
Everyone watched, of course, as they always did with a new scandal brewing. Beautiful Nell, known for her passionate appetites, her glorious red hair foil for her glittering gown, melted against Oz’s tall dark form as they gracefully glided across the ballroom. Her pale cheek rested on his lapel, her curvaceous back, bared to the waist, lured every man’s eye, envy in their gazes. Women, too, watched with envy, wishing they were held in Oz’s powerful arms.
He was very drunk, very charming, and recklessly irresponsible.
As usual.
Indifferent to the shocked appraisals and whispers, the handsome couple swirled past the avidly curious in their circuit of the ballroom. Look where his hands are, so low on her back, curved around her neck! Look how tightly he’s holding her! You can’t even see her right hand-the little slut! My God, she kissed him! He kissed her back! He’s drunk! He’s always drunk! She left her husband in Egypt! He abandoned his wife in the country!
Everyone knew how close they’d once been, how torrid their love affaire, how Nell had hysterically bearded Oz on his wedding morning, how he’d thrown her out and given orders she wasn’t to be admitted again.
They knew everything; everyone always did in the ton.
What they didn’t yet know was that the moment Nell had heard Oz had left his bride, she’d come back-her journey from Cairo more tedious than it should have been, her husband more difficult about her leaving than he should have been.
But the pyramids would always be there, and Oz, restless and changeable, might not.
They didn’t dance long.
They left midway through the waltz, leaving a buzz of gossip in their wake.
And retired to Blackwood’s.
“EVENING, FREMONT,” OZ said a short time later, entering the hotel with Nell on his arm. “What do you have for us?”
“Good evening, my lord. The Wellington Suite happens to be available.” It was Lady Howe’s favorite.
“Perfect. Have some brandy sent up.” He turned to Nell. “Any requests?”
“Nothing Fremont can help me with,” she murmured, tugging on his arm.
Oz shot a look at Fremont. “We know our way.”
“A pleasure to see you again, my lord,” Fremont said, knowing better than to publically address the lady.
“It’s good to be back.”
Fremont smiled as the young couple walked away. He liked young Lennox. He’d heard all the gossip, of course-about the surprising marriage, the not-so-surprising separation, Oz’s return to London. It was the lifeblood of his business to know who was with whom and when in order to avoid awkward encounters; husbands, wives, and ex-lovers were never lodged in close proximity. “You heard,” he said to a footman standing by. “Lennox’s brandy in the Wellington Suite, some champagne and petit fours for Lady Howe as well. She prefers the almond fondant icing.”
The Wellington Suite was on the garden side of the hotel, well away from the bustle of the street. Not that Nell cared for gardens or quiet. Rather, she enjoyed the overlarge bed and sumptuous marble tub in the mirrored bath. But what she enjoyed most was the man at her side.
“I’m so vastly pleased I found you tonight,” she said, slipping her arms around Oz’s waist the moment he closed the door behind them. “The trip from Cairo was endless… but with you as my prize it was worth every minute.”
“And you saved me from another night of boredom.”
“So very pleased to be of service,” she purred, gazing up at him with a seductive glance.
“In what way?” His smile was wicked.
“Since I thought of little else but you on my awful trip home I have several ideas. First, I’m going to undress you and admire your strapping young body,” she said with a sultry smile, sliding her hand upward over the diamond studs on his shirtfront. “Then you can lie in bed, watch me undress, and tell me how much you missed me.”
“Desperately, of course,” he said with a faint smile.
“Of course,” she whispered, profoundly grateful to have her favorite lover back.
Neither mentioned the occasion when last they’d met the morning after Oz’s marriage. This was playtime, after all, not harsh reality. Which precluded mention of the subsequent collapse of his marriage as well.
Oz had no objection to Nell’s agenda, knowing he’d be suitably rewarded for his acquiescence as would she. In the meantime, he was here to forget. As she slowly removed his evening clothes, he found her idle chatter soothing, familiar. Nothing was required of him but an occasional smile or nod, while her obvious relief on escaping her husband mirrored his own on fleeing his marriage. At base though, they were of a kind: she was as self-indulgent as he, eminently versed in the game of love and unlikely to demand anything of him other than sex-casual sex. Which was exactly what he wanted. Wasn’t it?
Fortunately, she dropped to her knees at that point to remove his trousers and he wasn’t compelled to face the vexing truth.
“Mmm… my lovely stud,” she murmured a moment later, his trousers and underwear cast aside, her fingers measuring the length of his erection in pleasant anticipation. “You have the most beautiful penis, darling,” she added, glancing up at Oz. “I suppose you hear it all the time.”
“Never,” he politely lied.
“I want him to wait for me, though, so go now,” she ordered, rising to her feet in a flurry of gold cloth and gardenia scent and pointing to the bed. “And think about what you want me to do for you while I undress.”
Fuck me into oblivion. “You decide. I’m amenable to anything.”
“Aren’t you always,” she dulcetly returned, reaching up to pull the pins from her hair.
“Rule one on the road to excess.”
“We agree on everything,” she lightly said, looking forward to remapping that route with England’s most talented cocksman.