“Perhaps she is jealous. Didn’t you recently share a dance with her?”
“Recently, yes. But I’ve never proposed marriage to her.”
“I see. But perhaps you have made other proposals to Lady Geneva?”
“The green eyes of jealousy, love?”
“I’m not your love, and my eyes are green by birth, milord.”
“Lady Geneva makes her own proposals,” he told her softly, and she almost wrenched from his hold, for she knew then that they had been lovers, and she was furious that she should be so bothered by the thought.
“I’m quite exhausted. May we cease this mockery?”
“Alas, no! Chin up, eyes bright, ’tis be damned with the world, remember?”
“‘Tis be damned with you, sir, and if you’ll excuse me—”
“Ah, but I won’t.”
And he did not. He held her close, and she was captured with the dance. Swirling and spinning, they passed by the other dancers, her hair and her gown flying out about her, making her a vision of beauty and fire in the night, on the arms of the tall, dark man. He twirled her from the dance floor out onto the porch, and then he had her laughing, for he did not quit then, but deftly brought her leaping down the steps and onto the lawn. Once there, he continued to swirl her beneath the moonlight. She cast back her head, smiling, for he was right about one thing. She longed to throw all caution to the wind, to show the gossips that she would do as she pleased, that she was not spurned and she knew no pain. He saw her smile, and some knowing glint came to his eyes.
“A temptress and a hell-raiser, milady? Shall we show them that life is to be lived to the fullest and that passion is its own master?”
“You are a hell-raiser. I am no temptress.”
“Ah! I beg to disagree!”
“Do you, sir? Amazing, but I do not see you begging at all.”
He smiled. “A matter of speech, milady.”
“Humility is surely your greatest virtue.”
“However you would have it, Lady Sterling, however you would have it.”
And then suddenly they were dancing no more. They stood beneath the moonlight. His mouth was hard and unsmiling. His eyes were as piercing as a silver blade as they stared down into hers.
“There are whispers upon the wind, Amanda. Harsh whispers. Should you need me, know that I will be there.”
“I will not need you!” she promised. But perhaps that was not so true, for even though the night was warm she was already shivering, and despite the entire debacle of the evening, she longed to cast herself into his arms and feel their warmth and security about her. And yet, she thought, for all the lightness of his words, this man would be no gentle master, but one determined upon his own cause. A woman who loved him was bound to be mastered by that iron will and determination.
No! she thought. I shall never lose my heart or my soul to one such as he! The pain that she felt this night was one thing. She realized that being entrapped by the fierce passion of this man could cause an anguish she could not begin now to fathom. The strange sensations touched her like mist, making her feel uneasy and hot. The strange tingling seized her body once again, dangerously touching places that it should not.
“You—you cannot love me, you don’t even know me!” she cried.
“I know a great deal about you,” he told her, and he smiled again. “And don’t forget—I am in lust with you.”
“You wish to best me! That is all. I have not fallen amorously into your arms, as others do too easily. You like to win, before you step upon your conquests. Well, you shall not win against me, sir.”
“Perhaps not. I’ll consider it a challenge well met.” He was silent for a moment, then he indicated someone over his shoulder. “It’s an interesting evening. Your lost love is consoling himself, I see.”
“What?” Amanda swung around, stunned to see that Robert had come to the porch.
With Geneva. And they were close together in an intimate embrace. She had cast her arms about his neck. Her head was back and her laughter was throaty. And then she was kissing him.
Amanda gave not a thought to the night, the world, or propriety. Blindly she cast her arms about the man before her and came up high on her toes to press her length against him. Instinctively she arched against him, curling her fingers into his hair and then pressing her lips against his. Tentatively she pressed her tongue against his teeth.
And then the world seemed to explode. His mouth gave way, and he was not in her arms, but she was in his. She was barely upon her feet, swirling in the moonlight again, and his tongue raked her mouth as if it invaded the very soul of her and reached with his searing liquid fire to touch her heart. He laid his hand upon her breast, and something moved in her to that touch, something that pulsed with curiosity.
