Velvet Embrace

by Nicole Jordan

  Having attained her goal, Denise gave a satisfied smile and left Brie to herself. Brie watched her retreat, telling herself firmly that the sharp twinge in her heart was not jealousy. The blond witch was no less than Dominic deserved!

  The gentlemen entered the drawing room shortly afterward, accompanied by the faint strains of music as the musicians prepared for their night's work. Inexplicably Brie was piqued when Dominic made no move to approach her, since her hand was solicited for a dance by any number of other gentlemen. His neglect seemed blatantly pronounced after his previous attentions toward her. She tried to ignore her infuriating disappointment, however, and focused instead on seeing that her cousin would be suitably partnered during the evening.

  When the remaining guests began to arrive, the company filed into the ballroom, and the orchestra struck up for the first dance. Brie had awarded the set to a tall officer who was a friend of Lady Scofield's son. She allowed him to lead her into the cotillion, determined to forget about handsome, dark- haired lords who were too accustomed to having their way with women.

  During the next set, however, her glance involuntarily went to the sidelines where Dominic stood with Lady Denise. He was frowning, but she was wearing the contented look of a well-fed cat. Brie wondered what Lady Denise could be saying to him, particularly when Dominic turned to meet her own gaze with narrowed gray eyes. She was glad when the set ended.

  Julian claimed her hand for the next dance, and when he turned her over to another partner, her eyes once again went to the sidelines. Realizing then that she was unconsciously searching for Dominic, Brie chided herself for being foolish. She gave her new partner a brilliant smile and let him whirl her away.

  She would have found Dominic had she looked in one of the smaller salons. After his highly unsatisfactory clash with Denise in the ballroom, he had joined the guests who preferred cards to dancing.

  He played aggressively, but not even intense concentration could make him forget his urge to throttle his beautiful blond ex-mistress or their heated exchange of words. Denise had pleaded with him to return to their previous relationship, and when Dominic had firmly refused, she had become vicious. He had responded in kind.

  "Come now, chérie," he had drawled. "Surely you don't expect me to welcome you with open arms. Your escapades of the past year have been a little too rich, even for my jaded tastes."

  The smile froze on Denise's lips, while her blue eyes narrowed. "My escapades! Why mine are nothing compared to yours, darling. Or don't you know about the rumors? They say you almost killed that poor Mr. Germain. I hear he is faring so poorly that he may yet die. Perhaps it would have been wiser for you to leave England altogether," she added with a smirk.

  Her smug expression changed at once when Dominic's fingers closed about her wrist, and she gave a pained gasp. "Dear God, Dominic! You are hurting me. It isn't common knowledge, I swear it. I had it from one of your servants."

  Hearing the panic in her voice, Dominic relaxed his grip. "How much did you pay for your information?"

  There was steel beneath his silken tone, which Denise recognized. "I didn't bribe anyone, if that's what you are thinking," she answered sullenly. "Your man Farley just is no match for me. How else do you think I discovered that you were in this godforsaken place?"

  "And yet you wish to take up with me again, knowing I might not be available to you for long?"

  She bit her lip as she slanted a glance up at him. "You know as well as I that the authorities wouldn't move against someone of your rank without positive proof that you intended murder, even if the man were to die. And you are too clever for that, aren't you, darling?"

  When he made no reply, Denise let her voice drop to a husky whisper. "I am merely concerned for you, Dominic. You must be lonely without a woman to comfort you. And I don't think you would be foolish enough to pursue her," Denise nodded in Brie's direction. "For one thing if you succeeded in seducing her, you would most certainly have to marry her. I understand she has some high-powered friends, not to mention a family of strait-laced relatives. And what's more, she isn't responding to your charm. That must hurt your pride—you whom most women are mad for. But don't worry, darling. Even though she is made of ice, I am not—as you well know. You might as well take me back," Denise summarized, giving him an arch smile.

  Dominic glanced across the room to where the auburn- haired beauty was dancing with a red-coated officer. He met Brie's eyes for a moment, before turning back to Denise and eyeing her with distaste. "Your logic leaves much to be desired, Denise. True, you are warm, beautiful, passionate. . . ." Dominic said in a voice that both thrilled her and made her wary. "But I believe I would prefer a snake's venom to your particular brand of poison. Although I admit a snake would not be nearly so comforting in bed."

  "Why you—" Denise exclaimed in a shrill voice, before Dominic put a finger to her lips.

  "Hush, my sweet. You are a guest here, remember?"

  Denise did lower her voice a fraction. "You would prefer that . . . that frozen bitch to me?" she hissed.

  "Careful, Denise. Who knows, you may be speaking of my future countess."

  He had spoken to spite her, but his words had the desired effect: Denise gaped at him in astonishment. Taking advantage of her stunned silence, Dominic led her to a chair and procured a glass of champagne for her, then left her in order to seek out the cardrooms. He regretted allowing Denise's waspishness to provoke his temper, but perhaps his savage response had ended any hopes she had of resuming their long-ago affair.

  Even without Denise to contend with, however, things were not going at all the way he had planned. Dominic grimaced as he recalled the frustration of the past week. The search he and Jacques had conducted had yielded little results; they had not even come close to apprehending the men they sought.

  Nor was his relationship with Brie progressing as he would have liked. He had meant to spend the evening pursuing her and trying to get back in her good graces, but she had been too busy glaring daggers at him to be receptive to any overtures he made. Denise's interference hadn't helped matters, of course, but he had teased and mocked Brie when soft words would far better have served him. Now he would have to exercise every bit of charm he could muster if he wanted her back in his arms. Yet, he meant to attempt it—just as soon as his temper cooled sufficiently.

  It was several hours before Dominic returned to the ballroom and spied Brie dancing with the squire's son. She seemed to be having a rough time, for Rupert Umstead was weaving through the steps, nearly tripping each time he stepped on her satin slippers.

  She managed to extricate herself from her drunken partner when the music ended, but then Dominic stepped directly in the path of her escape. "My dance, mademoiselle?" he said with a conciliatory smile.

  Brie looked up at him uncertainly, torn between her smarting pride and a traitorous desire to be held in his arms again. Pride won out. "I think not, my lord," she replied coolly. "I find I am quite fatigued."

  "No doubt, after holding that young puppy up half the time. But I promise not to tread on your toes." As the strains of a waltz filled the room, Dominic captured Brie's hand and pulled her, resisting, into his arms. Brie gasped at his audacity, but not wanting to create a spectacle, she capitulated.

  She treated Dominic to an icy silence as they whirled around the floor, but she found it difficult to maintain her distance with the music swelling gently around them. They danced together, perfectly in tune.

  Against her better judgment, Brie felt herself relaxing in his arms. When she ventured to look up at her tall partner, the dark glitter in Dominic's eyes held her entranced, and she found herself unable to tear her gaze away.

  One by one, the other couples seemed to fade away, till only she and Dominic were dancing together in the enormous ballroom. His arm tightened about her waist, drawing her closer, and Brie caught her breath as her breasts brushed the hard wall of his chest. She trembled, watching as his lips came closer and closer. . . .

>   Fortunately, the music ended. Yet, Dominic continued to stare down at her, his arms locked about her waist. When he made no move to release her, Brie dazedly looked around and saw that the other couples were separating. "M-my lord," she stammered, twisting out of his embrace.

  Recollecting himself, Dominic shook his head as he tried to recover his equilibrium. He had been about to kiss Brie in the middle of a crowded ballroom, for Christ's sake! What kind of strange spell had she cast over him?

  More shaken by his encounter with this bewitching beauty than he would ever admit, Dominic took refuge in sarcasm. "You seem to be forever running from me," he said acidly.

  His derisiveness stemmed more from a desire to protect himself than any wish to hurt her, but it completely shattered the spell for Brie. She stared up at him for a long moment. Then feeling tears sting her eyes, she turned and fled.

  Dominic let her go. He had not meant to snap at her like that, but to pursue her now in order to apologize would only exacerbate the situation and perhaps cause a scandal as well. He would have to give her time to recover before he tried to make amends.

  Brie threaded her way blindly through the crowd, wanting to escape the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom. When a waiter passed bearing a tray of champagne, she seized a glass and drank its contents in one long draught, but it did little to calm her agitation. Seeing that one of the French windows had been thrown open to combat the heat of the chandeliers, Brie slipped through the doors and found herself out on the terrace.

  The late winter air was cold and biting against her bare shoulders, but she welcomed the chill. Leaning on the stone balustrade for support, she took several ragged breaths, trying to purge the conflicting emotions that warred inside her. Then after a moment she made her way down the flight of steps to the garden and soothing darkness.

  Dominic had seen her leave the ballroom and was debating whether to follow her when Squire Umstead clapped him on the shoulder and began telling him about the sow that had won first prize at last year's fair. Dominic listened with one ear as he kept his gaze trained on the French doors. His eyes narrowed when he saw Rupert Umstead wander out onto the terrace.

  The squire followed Dominic's gaze and broke off his story to swear heartily, "There's that damned cub of mine, and I'll wager a pint of my best stout that he's up to no good. Brie Carringdon went out that door not two minutes ago. I had better go after him. He'll only disgrace himself."

  Dominic laid a hand on the squire's sleeve. "Perhaps you would allow me. I expect it's my fault Miss Carringdon is out there."

  The squire eyed him quizzically. "Quarreled, did you?"

  "Something like that."

  "It isn't Brie I'm worried about. She can take care of herself. My boy's the one who concerns me. He's liable to get hurt if he gets her dander up. Wouldn't want him challenging a man like you, either. Might get his fool head blown off."

  The corner of Dominic's mouth twisted in agrin. "I promise it won't come to that. Accepting challenges from callow youths is not something I relish. They're too likely to get off a lucky shot."

  Having seen Dominic's skill with firearms, Squire Umstead chuckled. "Very well, then, go to it, man. I suppose Brie would rather have you save her anyway."

  "Perhaps," Dominic remarked dryly, before making his way across the ballroom.

  Once on the terrace, he paused to let his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness as he searched the shadows below. Although the golden light filtering out from the ballroom stopped short of the garden, the moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the bare foliage.

  Dominic could see no trace of Brie, but as he started down the steps, he heard a woman's cry followed by the sounds of a scuffle, then a slap and a loud grunt. Disquieted, Dominic leapt down the remaining steps and broke into a run.

  When he rounded a hedge, though, he stopped short. The shadowy scene before him was not what he had expected. Rupert Umstead lay sprawled on the ground, groaning as he clutched at his groin, while Brie stood over him, hands on hips, fairly spitting in her fury. Dominic found it difficult to repress his laughter as she raged at the unfortunate boy.

  "If you think I like being pawed, Rupert, you are much mistaken! Go lavish your drunken attentions on someone else. I will not stand for it, do you hear?" Her tirade was accompanied by a stamp of her foot for emphasis.

  Still moaning, Rupert pulled himself up to a sitting position, trying to regain his lost dignity. "But I want to marry you," he protested.

  "Well, I do not want to marry you! I would sooner marry—" Brie hesitated and Dominic knew she was trying to think of an appropriately vile comparison. He was surprised by the one she chose. "I'd sooner marry that odious Stanton!"

  The Umstead boy sniffed indignantly. "I should say so. An earl. Who could compete with a fellow of his rank?"

  "Oh . . . , just go away, Rupert. Go away this instant, before I decide to tell your father how badly you have behaved!"

  Stamping her foot again with obvious impatience, she pointed in the direction of the house. Dominic stepped back into the concealing shadows as she waited for Rupert to slink away.

  When her would-be lover had gone, Brie attempted to smooth her hair and straighten her clothes. Realizing then that the bodice of her gown had been torn by Rupert's lecherous hands, she let out an oath that would have done credit to any of the stableboys in her employ and gave a vicious kick to the trunk of the oak tree nearest her, bruising her foot in the process. When the pain had subsided, Brie collapsed against the oak and buried her head in her arms. It was too much, she thought with a groan. She would find Caroline and leave at once.

  She shivered with revulsion as she remembered the feel of Rupert's hands on her breasts. She had not been afraid of him; his drunken pawing had disgusted rather than frightened her. But she hadn't liked him touching her. His hands had been cold and clutching, not at all like Dominic's hands. But at least Rupert's fumbling attempts at lovemaking had proved that she hadn't suddenly become a wanton. It was only Dominic's touch that had the power to arouse her. . . .

  When she heard footsteps behind her, Brie thought Rupert had returned to accost her again. She whirled, raising one fist while clutching at her bodice with the other. But the man before her was too tall to be Rupert. Too tall, too dark, and too broad-shouldered. "You!" she exclaimed, backing nervously against the trunk of the tree.

  Dominic laughed softly, although he kept a wary eye on her upraised fist. "Yes, my little wildcat. 'Tis the 'odious Stanton' in the flesh. You shall never marry, you know. Not if you treat all your suitors with such violence. Do all your swains receive a similar taste of your temper?"

  Not enjoying his humor, Brie tried to slip past him. She would have succeeded but for Dominic's restraining hold on her arm. "Why do you run? I shan't distress you with a repetition of the boy's marriage proposal, not even with the encouragement of knowing you prefer me to him."

  Brie was too upset even to retort. "Please, let me go."

  Dominic stepped closer, his expression suddenly becoming serious as he bent his head to murmur in her ear. "Mille pardons, ma belle. I don't mean to tease you or treat you harshly. You needn't fear me, either."

  His warm breath lightly fanned her cheek, before his warm lips pressed against the side of her throat. Brie shut her eyes, swaying dizzily. "Are you mad?" she asked in a pained whisper. "Or merely intent on making me so?"

  "Yes, mad," Dominic murmured, letting his lips roam over her fragrant skin. "Mad with desire. I want you, Brie, more than any woman I've ever known."

  Trying to control the overwhelming sensations that were sweeping through her, Brie gave a brittle laugh. "I suppose I should be honored."

  Dominic turned her face up to his and touched her smooth cheek. " 'Tis I who am honored, chérie," he said softly. "And I most humbly beg your forgiveness for provoking you."

  Brie stared up at him as he slowly drew a finger over her lips. It was unfair how he could make her want him, she railed silently. His t
ouch almost melted her determination not to give in. But she knew she couldn't let herself be deceived by his methods. She had to harden her heart against his charm.

  Shaking her arm from his grasp, she took a step backward. "I do not intend to be included in your harem, my lord. You already have a mistress who seems more than willing to share her favors. Isn't that enough?"

  "Brie," Dominic said patiently, "Denise isn't my mistress. We had such an arrangement once, but that was years ago." Advancing, he successfully cornered Brie against the oak, blocking her escape by placing his hands to either side of her. "Did Denise say something spiteful to you? I assure you she is only jealous."

  Wanting to believe him, Brie tried to read his expression. The darkness hid all but the dark gleam in his eyes. "But Lady Denise is eager for you," she pointed out. "I am not."

  "Are you sure?" he said huskily, raining light kisses upon her face when she avoided his searching lips.

  "Yes, I loathe you," Brie declared, her muffled words carrying little conviction.

  Triumphant laughter rumbled deep in his throat. "Show me, Brie," Dominic taunted softly. "Show me how very much you loathe my kisses."

  Brie caught the glitter of raw desire in his eyes before his mouth clamped down on hers. She briefly considered struggling—but only until his arms came around her. Then she was conscious of the aching need he was deliberately arousing in her.

  This was what she wanted, she realized as his muscular thighs pressed against hers and pinned her against the tree. His chest felt like granite against her tingling breasts, while his lips were hot and insistent, demanding a response. Brie let her arms glide upward to encircle his neck as she opened her mouth more fully to his searching tongue.

  Slowly his kisses became more urgent, almost savage. With a harsh groan, Dominic wrapped his arms more tightly about Brie's waist, pulling her against him, as if he wanted her to become part of him. Her senses spinning, Brie surrendered passionately to his embrace.

  She was bewildered when a moment later Dominic's hands tightened on her shoulders and he tore his mouth away. He held Brie at arm's length, staring down at her, his own breathing as ragged as hers. Brie shivered as the night air enveloped her. She wanted the warmth of his encircling arms, but when she tried to move closer, Dominic prevented her.