Dozens of people waltzed across a raised wooden platform while servants moved amidst them carrying large silver trays filled with golden champagne. There were even more guests crowded onto the large pavilion behind the dance floor, their glazed expression and lopsided grins indicating they’d already partaken in quite a few glasses of the bubbly spirits.
Joanna considered grabbing one herself, but Kincaid must have sensed that was her intention for he abruptly turned her away from a passing servant and steered her towards an empty bench partially hidden behind a cluster of lilacs.
“Sit,” he ordered. “Stay.”
“Should I bark as well?” she asked, annoyed with his handling of her. “Or lift my paw?”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “Just remain here until I return. I can cover more ground if I’m not worrying about you wandering off.”
Her irritation grew. “I can take care of myself, Kincaid. I am not a wayward child.”
“No, you’re something far worse,” he said grimly. “You’re an American. Promise me you’ll stay on this bench, Miss Thorncroft, and wait for my return. It’s the safest place you could be while I search for your sister.”
“But you don’t even know what Evie looks like!”
He snorted. “If she’s anything like you, she’ll be the one causing the most trouble.”
“Arrogant bastard,” Joanna mumbled under her breath as Kincaid walked swiftly away.
For all of ten seconds, she obeyed his request to remain on the bench. But Thorncroft women were not renowned for their ability to follow rules, and after a furtive glance around to ensure her domineering detective had truly gone, she jumped up and scurried off down the nearest path.
Winding through a thicket of rosebushes, the walkway, illuminated only by moonlight, soon branched into two separate parts. Joanna stopped and studied each way in equal measure, until she ultimately decided to head towards the left.
She quickened her pace when she heard raised voices ahead. Without warning, the path she’d chosen twisted around an ancient oak and ended abruptly at a small alcove surrounded by marble statues…of nude warriors.
“Goodness,” she breathed, her eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as she took in the detailed anatomy of an archer with his bow drawn. He had one leg extended while the other stretched behind him, revealing a muscular backside and extraordinarily large…er…phallus.
“They are Greek Gods,” drawled a masculine voice from directly behind her.
On a gasp, Joanna whirled around. “You—you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she said as she found herself face to face with a young, blonde-haired gentleman with brown eyes that were crinkled with amusement at the corners and a slightly sardonic tilt to his mouth.
“How else am I to get close to beautiful women?” he asked, canting his head to the side while his gaze traveled leisurely across her body as if she were standing there for his own personal enjoyment.
Flushing beneath his intimate—not to mention rude—perusal, Joanna hugged her arms around herself to ward off a sudden chill of warning that trickled down her spine like a bead of condensation sliding down the outside of a glass. “You could introduce yourself,” she suggested. “And not lurk in the shadows.”
“Was I lurking?” he said. “I hadn’t any idea. My apologies, sweet. Colin Farnsworth, Duke of Telford. At your pleasure.”
Thiswas a duke?
Thiswas what Evie had crossed an ocean to marry?
How utterly disappointing.
Oh, he was pleasant enough to look at. Joanna would give him that. But his obvious sense of self-importance, combined with his lewd staring, left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. A taste that only grew more bitter when he reached out with all the quickness of a snake, grabbed her arm, and jerked her against him.
“Don’t be impolite, sweet.” His breath reeked of strong spirits as it wafted past her nose. “I told you who I am. Who are you?” He slid a hand around her waist, fingers digging painfully into her hip. “Besides a goddess sent from the heavens above to tempt this poor mortal’s soul.”
Joanna craned away from him. “Does that bit work?”
“Usually.” There was a flicker of annoyance in his dark eyes, and then he shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’treallyneed to know your name. Even if you did tell me, I’d probably forget it tomorrow. What do you have under this bustle, sweet?”
“Let mego!” Joanna snapped, outraged when his hand slipped around her waist to squeeze her bottom. She brought her arms up between them and tried to push herself free, but the duke’s grip only tightened, like a serpent coiling around its prey.
“Now, now,” he said, leering at her. “No need to play hard to get. We both know why you came to the gardens.”
“Icamehere to find my sister!” Bringing her leg back, she kicked it forward with all the strength she could muster and hit him squarely in the middle of his shin.
With a howl, he released her, but before she could escape back down the path he grabbed her wrist and spun her towards him. She struggled to free herself, but it was to no avail. The duke was physically stronger and, within seconds, he had her pinned against the base of the archer statue with his knee thrust between her thighs and her arms stretched high above her head.
