head bent towards her hand and his lips brushed her flesh, her skin felt so warm that she thought she burned with fever. “I trust your birthday has been a happy one,” he said in a deep rich voice that caused her heart to race.
“Very pleasant, sir.” She conversed naturally with Howard then, but she would never remember their conversation. She only knew that Paul Flanders watched her and appraised her and didn’t find her lacking. For the first time in her life she felt almost pretty. The enchanted spell broke when Constance sidled up to Paul and possessively touched his sleeve.
“Paul, I’m quite perturbed you’ve not noticed me yet.”
He smiled at the petulant young woman. “It’s hard not to notice such a beauty as yourself.”
Constance giggled her delight. “You are a darling. Now let me show you off a bit to the ladies. Allison won’t mind.”
Allison’s spirits plummeted as he walked off with Constance, leaving her with Howard, who proceeded to find himself a glass of champagne and engaged in a lengthy conversation with a portly banker. Allison caught a glimpse of her slight reflection in the glass of the veranda doors and realized what a fool she was. She must look like a child to a man as handsome as Paul Flanders. How silly of her to believe she could hold such a man’s attentions when clearly he preferred voluptuous women like Constance.
Oh, what was wrong with her? She shouldn’t have listened to Old Mag. Tears of disappointment stung her eyes and she rushed through the doors onto the terrace, certain that no one cared or would miss her. Her misty gaze encompassed the dark fields. Once again she felt like a timid mouse. What had happened to her under Paul’s penetrating stare? For a moment she had felt beautiful and desired.
She shook her head to drive away the distracting thought. He had been kind to her, that was all. “It’s all ridiculous. I wish this party were over!” she said aloud.
“I don’t,” said a deep voice behind her.
Her heart thrummed because it was his voice. She found herself unable to turn around and face him. When he stood beside her, she felt rather than saw him in the darkness .
“I hadn’t realized anyone was outside,” she said lamely.
“I apologize for not making my presence known earlier, Miss Fairfax. It’s a lovely night and your birthday ball. I can’t help but wonder why you seem so upset.”
“I—am not upset.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. I thought that as the guest of honor you would start the dancing. I would be most disappointed if I were not one of your dance partners.”
“You really should dance with Constance.”
He turned her face to his and before she was aware of it, he gently wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I should like to dance only with you.”
His tender touch burned like fire. No man had ever touched her like that or looked at her with such passion in his eyes. The smoldering desire reflected in those dark orbs drew her sapphire gaze up to his. He towered over her by more than a foot, and Allison felt ridiculously small as he drew her gently against the broadness of his chest. She possessed no will of her own, no inclination to pull away and pretend she was properly outraged at the liberty he had taken by holding her thus. Somehow she felt that she belonged in his arms.
He smelled of tobacco, a slight trace of whiskey and an unfamiliar, male musky scent. Part of her wondered why she didn’t berate him for accosting her on the veranda as though she were a woman used to having a man’s arms around her; another part also wondered if he could hear the frantic beating of her heart beneath the silken bodice of her gown. From inside the ballroom she heard the lilting sounds of the harpsichord. Paul began to sway slightly to the melody.
“I’m afraid I’m not a very good dancer, Mr. Flanders.” Her voice quavered.
“Then I shall teach you whatever you need to learn.” He took her hand in his, then drew
“Very pleasant, sir.” She conversed naturally with Howard then, but she would never remember their conversation. She only knew that Paul Flanders watched her and appraised her and didn’t find her lacking. For the first time in her life she felt almost pretty. The enchanted spell broke when Constance sidled up to Paul and possessively touched his sleeve.
“Paul, I’m quite perturbed you’ve not noticed me yet.”
He smiled at the petulant young woman. “It’s hard not to notice such a beauty as yourself.”
Constance giggled her delight. “You are a darling. Now let me show you off a bit to the ladies. Allison won’t mind.”
Allison’s spirits plummeted as he walked off with Constance, leaving her with Howard, who proceeded to find himself a glass of champagne and engaged in a lengthy conversation with a portly banker. Allison caught a glimpse of her slight reflection in the glass of the veranda doors and realized what a fool she was. She must look like a child to a man as handsome as Paul Flanders. How silly of her to believe she could hold such a man’s attentions when clearly he preferred voluptuous women like Constance.
Oh, what was wrong with her? She shouldn’t have listened to Old Mag. Tears of disappointment stung her eyes and she rushed through the doors onto the terrace, certain that no one cared or would miss her. Her misty gaze encompassed the dark fields. Once again she felt like a timid mouse. What had happened to her under Paul’s penetrating stare? For a moment she had felt beautiful and desired.
She shook her head to drive away the distracting thought. He had been kind to her, that was all. “It’s all ridiculous. I wish this party were over!” she said aloud.
“I don’t,” said a deep voice behind her.
Her heart thrummed because it was his voice. She found herself unable to turn around and face him. When he stood beside her, she felt rather than saw him in the darkness .
“I hadn’t realized anyone was outside,” she said lamely.
“I apologize for not making my presence known earlier, Miss Fairfax. It’s a lovely night and your birthday ball. I can’t help but wonder why you seem so upset.”
“I—am not upset.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. I thought that as the guest of honor you would start the dancing. I would be most disappointed if I were not one of your dance partners.”
“You really should dance with Constance.”
He turned her face to his and before she was aware of it, he gently wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I should like to dance only with you.”
His tender touch burned like fire. No man had ever touched her like that or looked at her with such passion in his eyes. The smoldering desire reflected in those dark orbs drew her sapphire gaze up to his. He towered over her by more than a foot, and Allison felt ridiculously small as he drew her gently against the broadness of his chest. She possessed no will of her own, no inclination to pull away and pretend she was properly outraged at the liberty he had taken by holding her thus. Somehow she felt that she belonged in his arms.
He smelled of tobacco, a slight trace of whiskey and an unfamiliar, male musky scent. Part of her wondered why she didn’t berate him for accosting her on the veranda as though she were a woman used to having a man’s arms around her; another part also wondered if he could hear the frantic beating of her heart beneath the silken bodice of her gown. From inside the ballroom she heard the lilting sounds of the harpsichord. Paul began to sway slightly to the melody.
“I’m afraid I’m not a very good dancer, Mr. Flanders.” Her voice quavered.
“Then I shall teach you whatever you need to learn.” He took her hand in his, then drew
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