To Celia’s surprise, he did, eyes narrow and focused on the girl’s face, his step matching hers, heels slamming down one after the other, his lean body powerful and graceful at the same time. It was obvious he had done this before, and Celia was shocked by the realization that the gypsy girl was very familiar with him. It was in her eyes, in the laughing curve of her lips, in the dark gleam of triumph she threw toward Celia.
They have been together, she thought then, and was startled by the pang of anger that knifed through her. Why should she care what woman had caught his eye? It didn’t matter in the least.
She must have stumbled, for her partner caught her by the elbow to steady her.
“Señorita,” he said softly, a question in the dark eyes fastened on her face.
Smiling, he urged her to follow his steps, and Celia forced a smile as she obliged.
Damn Northington, this was just another of his games, an attempt to prove his masculine appeal. She would ignore him, as he well deserved, and pretend that she hadn’t noticed at all, or even cared.
She danced with the young gypsy, and discovered that once she concentrated, she could mimic his moves quite well. Her feet flew over the stones and her body seemed to move of its own volition to the driving tempo of the music that soared beneath the lanterns. The music went faster and faster and so did her feet as she twisted, turned, let her arms go above her head as she had seen Marita do. It was suddenly liberating to dance so freely, as if she cared for nothing but the moment.
And maybe that’s partly true, she thought as she let the music direct her feet. Maybe I should think of nothing but this very moment, right now, and not remember anything or think of what I must do tomorrow…I’m so weary of it all, the hurting and the frustration. And yes, the desperation. Oh, why did I ever think I could manage this?
It was hopeless. The earl of Moreland was too far out of her reach, beyond any justice she could exact. How silly it all was, to think she could come to England and somehow ruin a man like Moreland.
Hot tears stung her eyes, half-blinding her as she danced, losing herself in the music instead of despair, pushing all from her mind as her breath came in harsh pants and perspiration dampened her clothes.
As she had seen Marita do, she reached up to free her hair, tossing aside the pretty hairpins as carelessly as if they were worthless, shaking her head to let her pale hair cascade around her shoulders and in her face. Nothing mattered at this moment but relief from constant tension, from all restrictions.
From Northington…
Colter was very much aware of her, startled and angrily amused by her display. Bloody hell, he had only himself to blame for it, for goading her into some kind of reaction, something other than the stiff, cool composure that he knew she didn’t feel. But this! Christ, Harvey was nearly choking on his port, staring at Celia as if he’d never seen her before, and the gypsies—He’d put an end to this before it went too far, for the young man, Mario, who danced with Celia was getting much too close to her.
Lady Leverton watched Celia with wide eyes and an expression of dismay, while Mrs. Pemberton had risen to her feet and snapped a command for her niece to stop that nonsense at once.
Colter reached Celia in two long strides, his glance at the startled Mario a warning the young man immediately understood. Silently he stepped back.
“What in hell do you think you’re doing?” Colter asked Celia softly, but she was obviously impervious to his anger or intimidation.
“Dancing, my lord.” A misty sheen made her face glow, and her eyes were very green and bright. “Is this not what you wanted? Your guests to enjoy themselves?”
She whirled away from him before he could reply, and he moved after her, catching her against the far wall, all too aware that they were being observed, that Santiago was grinning widely. Damn her! The little cat knew what she was doing.
The movements of the dance brought her close to him and she moved her body in a deliberate brush against his. Her arms swept upward, slowly and sinuously, to lift the mass of honey-colored hair away from her neck, then let it drop again as Marita had done earlier, a provocative ploy meant to entice.
“Stop it,” he said quietly, the steely note in his voice making her eyes widen at him, “or I’ll give you what you’re so prettily asking for. If that’s what you want, by God, I can oblige. Don’t tempt me!”
She came to an abrupt halt as the music ended, her chest heaving from her exertions, green eyes sparkling angrily at him.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt you will do just what you say, my lord. You seem quite adept at being an autocrat. Is that why you invited me here? You needn’t have gone to so much trouble. I was well aware of your inclinations before I arrived.”
“I think,” he said slowly, eyes narrowed at her, “that you know very well why I invited you here. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
“Yes,” she said in almost a whisper, lips slightly trembling, whether with anger or emotion he couldn’t tell, “I know very well why you invited me.”
“Then we needn’t delay any longer.”
15
All the noise, the music and the laughter, even Mrs. Pemberton’s shocked disapproval and her not so very quiet scolding of Olivia, faded into a blur of sound as Celia stared up at him. Here it was, the moment she’d been half expecting since she arrived, afraid of it yet anticipating it at the same time, strangely enough. Yet it was a shock, after all, for it wasn’t done quietly or privately, but in front of a dozen people and in full view of her cousin.
“Am I expected to fall into your arms now?” she hissed angrily. “Or can you wait until we are alone? Tell me what you expect, my lord, for it’s obvious you think I am eager for you.”
“Aren’t you?” He smiled at her angry hiss. “It wasn’t my idea to make a public display.”
“Display? I thought it was dancing.”
“Not the way you were moving. It was an invitation and I accept. Christ, you can’t be that naive to think I’m the only man here who wants you. Look at Mario. And Harvey. If you so much as give either of them the slightest nod of encouragement they’ll be more than happy to toss your skirts and take you against the wall. Isn’t that what you wanted to prove? That you’re desirable? You should be well satisfied with the results, for even old Santiago wouldn’t mind tumbling you if you gave him the opportunity. No.” His hand flashed out to grab her wrist, holding it tightly in a steely grip. “If you run away now, what have you proven? Only that you’re a teasing little gypsy like Marita.”
“If I stay, my lord,” she managed to say calmly, “I have the inescapable feeling that I’ll end up proving I’m as available as Marita.”
Lights exploded in the dark blue of his eyes, and his smile thinned. “Ever a surprise,” he said at last. “You waver between honesty and deceit at an alarming rate.”
“Do you expect me to deny my attraction to you? I admit I find you—seductive. I’m intrigued, and yes, I’m curious, too. Are you what you seem to be? Or are you only a charlatan beneath all your bluster.” She lifted one shoulder in a light shrug. “It would be intriguing to discover the truth, but not at the expense of my good reputation.”
“Take it from a man of experience, a reputation is as fleeting as the seasons, gone in an instant even if it’s undeserved. And a reputation is damn cold comfort on long winter nights.”
“Perhaps, but you speak from a man’s point of view, and as a member of the peerage. Even a bad reputation doesn’t keep you from being received in society.”
“Doesn’t it? Even an earl can be ostracized. But you aren’t really worried about your reputation. If you were, you wouldn’t have danced as you did tonight.”
“I hardly think that will keep me from being accepted in society, my lord. Unless you choose to make it greater than it is.”
“I’ll leave that to Mrs. Pemberton.”
Celia smiled. “I doubt she’ll betray her own niece, who was also learning the gypsy dances.”
�
��None of which matters.” His hand slid down her arm to her elbow, cupped it in his palm to turn her toward the others. “We can discuss all the reasons why you shouldn’t be here later, and then I’ll give you all the reasons why you should.”
There was no need to ask what he meant.
It was unnerving, but Celia managed a careless laugh and shrug when they joined the others. Carolyn and even Olivia expressed admiration for her daring.
“But you are every bit as agile as the gypsy girl,” Carolyn said with enthusiasm, and her eyes were admiring. “I am too clumsy to dance so beautifully.”
The gypsy girl, Marita, was not as complimentary. She shrugged, and her tone was grudging. “You would never be mistaken for me or Rosa, but you are not so very bad.”
Celia met the girl’s narrowed gaze with a coolly lifted brow and smile. “I don’t think you have to worry about me trying to take your place,” she said, and saw that Marita understood her meaning.
She slid a sly glance toward Northington, and leaned close to say softly, “The señor seems to prefer women of fire, not ice, so I do not think you will be given a chance to take my place, señorita!”
Celia was saved from a reply by Jacqueline, who put a hand upon her arm and said, “We’re going inside where it’s warmer, my dear. Do come and join us, for the night is growing quite cool.”
Damn him, Celia thought angrily as Northington took Marita’s arm to join Santiago and the others, all speaking in that strange sort of Spanish. It was obvious they were all very familiar with one another. He even looked like one of them, with his dark skin and hair, garbed in snug trousers and a loose white shirt. And he had looked as if he enjoyed the dance with Marita, as lithe as she, and with the same kind of casual sensuality.
Celia followed her cousin and Mrs. Pemberton and her niece inside, glad that Northington stayed out on the terrace with the gypsies. Why should I care what he does? It was so ridiculous, and she wished now that she hadn’t agreed to come. Olivia Freestone was fraying her temper, and even sweet Caro, with her big eyes and lively nature, was making her fret with her ingenuous chatter.
“Oh, how lovely it is here,” Carolyn said as she sank into a chair and sipped a cup of mulled wine. “Don’t you think so, Celia?”
“Yes. It’s quite lovely. But I’m tired after all that dancing. I think I’ll retire for the evening. You’ll forgive me for abandoning you, I hope. Please make my apologies to Lord Northington.”
Though she said it with a smile, she had no intention of being coaxed to remain, and despite Jacqueline’s faint protest and worried eyes, she made her way up the stairs to the chamber she had been given to use. Janey was there, Lily having remained in London, and Celia was tempted to send her away. The girl was inept at best but tried hard, so she bit her lip and allowed Janey to help her.
“I saw you out the window,” Janey offered shyly, “and I thought you were the best one, Miss St. Clair.”
“Did you? I’m sure there are others who’ll disagree with you, but thank you for your kind words, Janey. No, I’ll brush my own hair. Later, please go down and retrieve my hairpins from the terrace.”
“Yes, Miss. The pearl ones?”
“Yes. After you turn down my bed, you’re free to go for the evening. You must be very tired.”
She wanted only to be alone, to think, to reflect on how best to extract herself gracefully from this awkward situation. It had been very foolish to come here, where she knew he would be waiting for her to let down her guard, yet she’d allowed Jacqueline to talk her into it.
And, she realized with a shock, she had let down her guard more than she’d ever thought she would. She’d felt not just anger, but a spark of jealousy when he’d danced with Marita, that swift, encompassing pang of realization that they knew one another far better than she knew him.
“But I’ve ordered hot water for your bath,” Janey said, reminding Celia she had earlier expressed a desire to bathe before bed. “And the footmen will be bringing up the water soon.”
“Oh. Very well. I’d forgotten…the tub is in this next room?”
Janey nodded. “And a large room it is, with a huge tub that’s partway in the floor, Miss! James, the footman, said it was called a Roman tub, and that the lord had it put in himself. Shocking, I say.”
“Yes. Very shocking. Let me know when the water is ready.”
“Yes, miss.”
Janey opened the door just as a light knock sounded on it, and Carolyn peered into Celia’s room.
“Are you well, Celia?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m just tired. Aren’t you?”
“Yes—and no.” Carolyn’s pretty face was alight with laughter, and she stepped inside when Celia beckoned.
This was the most exuberant Celia had seen Carolyn since she’d arrived in England, and she felt almost ashamed that she hadn’t become better acquainted with her.
“Carolyn,” she asked when it became obvious that she wished to linger. “Would you like to talk?”
Relief flickered on Carolyn’s face for a moment, then she nodded almost eagerly.
“Yes, I would like to. We haven’t really spent much time together, and I know we’re only here this week because Lord Northington had to include us so you would come, and I—well, I’m curious about his intentions, I admit it!”
“So am I,” Celia said frankly, and they both laughed.
It was wiser to change the subject, and Celia took a seat on an upholstered settee placed before a marble hearth. A fire burned brightly in the grate.
“Tell me all about the plans for your wedding this summer,” she said, “and of course, your betrothed. Are you excited about your future, Caro?”
Shrugging, Carolyn reclined on the lounge chair near the fire and said, “Melwyn is pleasant enough. I’ve known him since I was very young. It’s all been arranged for so long that I suppose I never thought about any other future. I’m content enough.” She smiled slightly. “What of you? What is in your future?”
“My future? I hadn’t thought about it beyond the next year, I suppose.” Celia smoothed a hand over her skirts. It wouldn’t do to think about Northington, or Moreland. Or what she would do once she had achieved her goal.
“I envy you,” Carolyn surprised her by saying. “You are so brave, and so—adventurous! I could never have done what you’ve done, traveled so far and seen the things you must have seen.”
“But you’ve been to France, and I’ve only come from America. I’ve not done the things you must have done.”
Carolyn waved a hand airily. “Oh, everyone goes to France. And it’s not so very far, though I did get a little green on the Channel crossing. We shopped mostly, hardly an adventure, such as coming to live in a new land where everything and everyone must seem so strange to you. I could never be so brave. My life has always been boring and staid. I know what I’ll be doing tomorrow, and it’s the same thing I did yesterday.”
Celia couldn’t answer for a moment. How could she confess how much she envied her that boring life?
“It doesn’t seem so very adventurous to me,” she said at last, “but rather frightening at times. If not for your mother, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Yes, Mama is very generous. I suppose I take her for granted, when I shouldn’t.”
“Yes, be very glad you have your mother,” Celia said softly, and looked away from the sudden sympathy she saw in Carolyn’s face. “Is she still on the terrace?”
“No, she came up with me. Celia, I must ask, have you set your cap for Lord Northington?” Carolyn laughed softly when Celia merely lifted a brow. “Oh, it’s none of my business, but why shouldn’t you? He’s a splendid match for any woman, and all of London knows that every eligible female over the age of ten has been after him even before he became heir to the Moreland title. It’d be a feather in your cap to be the countess one day, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure it would be.” Celia smiled. “I hardly think it a possibility,
however.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it!” Carolyn sat up, staring at her with interest. “Why do you think he has invited us all here this week? Certainly not to woo Miss Freestone. Mama and I were only invited so that you could come without risk of scandal. I think it’s simply delightful.”
“I think you are mistaken.”
“No, I don’t think I am. Oh, Celia, I saw him looking at you at the last ball, and then only a day later came the invitation to join him here at his country home. You do know that very few people have been invited—or perhaps I should say respectable people.”
“That bodes well for his intentions,” Celia said dryly, and Carolyn giggled.
“Tell me—” she leaned forward to stare intently at Celia “—have you ever…ever…been with a man?”
“Been where? Oh, you mean—Caro, what a question to ask!”
“Well? Have you?”
Celia was beginning to regret the impulse to invite her in for a talk.
“No,” she said, “not in the way that you mean.”
“Is there—how many ways are there?”
Really, what a naive little goose Carolyn was. But it was probable that she was as innocent as she seemed.
“Perhaps you should ask your mother these questions,” she hedged, but Carolyn shook her head.
“I would be mortified. For all that Mama is so sophisticated, she isn’t at all comfortable talking with me about certain things. I haven’t known who to ask. Once, I asked my old nurse about…about my wedding night, but she said that it’s not something decent girls think about. And when I asked Charlotte—my friend who married only a few months ago—about it, she made a face and said it was dark and she just closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was at Brighton, as her mother had advised her to do.”
“Hardly helpful,” Celia said faintly, and Carolyn agreed.
“Yes. But you seem so wise about everything, Celia. I’m sure you must know more than Charlotte. Oh, not that you’re experienced, but you do seem resourceful.”
A Reckless Encounter Page 15
