When he returned to reality, she wandered ahead as if she hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. Her audacity intrigued him. It proved such a contrast to her diffidence after they’d made love.
Now they were alone, she seemed more at ease.
More at ease? Great Jehovah, she’d just done one of the most provocative things he’d ever seen. Any more at ease, and she’d be tupping him in the bushes.
She glanced back and, for the first t
ime, sent him a genuine smile. Just a slight lift of those lush red lips, but enough to propel his heart into a drunken gallop.
Good God, but she was exquisite.
Tall, deep-breasted, long-legged. She was created for his pleasure. Once she’d taken him and adjusted to his size, they’d fit together perfectly.
He gritted his teeth and battled for control. He was thirty-two years old, an experienced man. How lowering that a country bumpkin turned him into this slavering, desperate supplicant.
He was desperate for no woman, damn it.
His eyes fixed on the subtle sway of her dark green skirts as she sauntered along the gravel path. Now he looked more closely, she couldn’t quite carry off the careless confidence. Her gait was slightly uneven, reminder of how he’d ravished her in the carriage.
Delicious memory.
How he loved her desire. It was honest and real.
He hadn’t realized until these last days how he’d itched for something deeper than superficial flirtation. What happened with Diana held a rawness he hadn’t experienced in years.
If ever.
“Ashcroft, are you all right?” She tilted her head in inquiry. The late-afternoon sun caught her, transforming her to pure gold.
Ashcroft’s breath snagged. The moment seemed to hold a significance beyond the present.
Then a cloud covered the sun. The strange preternatural feeling vanished.
A bewigged footman appeared at the doors leading from the garden. Like all Lord Peregrine’s staff, he was young and handsome. Diana spared him hardly a glance. Instead, her gaze clung to Ashcroft. He knew she had no idea she betrayed her attraction with every breath. And she had no idea how her unfettered hunger fed his.
He strode after her. It suddenly seemed a sin not to touch her. He caught her hand and drew it around his arm.
“Lord Peregrine has unusual taste in statuary.” She fell into step beside him.
Ashcroft gave a grunt of laughter as they passed naked Hercules wrestling a well-endowed lion. “Wait until you see inside. Spare my blushes and promise you won’t measure every appendage.”
Another delicious wash of color marked her cheeks. “My father says curiosity is my besetting fault.”
“Curiosity has its uses.”
This time her glance held no shyness. The gray was deep and dark, and excitement stirred to life in her face. “Oh, I look forward to satisfying my curiosity, my lord.”
Her purring response raised the hairs on his skin. Ashcroft stumbled, scuffing his soles on the gravel path. The wench had the nerve to laugh. She swept into the luxurious mansion as though she marched into lavish town houses as a matter of course. Again, she proved an enigma.
Ashcroft burned with such desire, he scarcely cared.
She paused just inside the room and stiffened with surprise. He couldn’t blame her. Lord Peregrine, the younger son of the Marquess of Farnsworth, did much of his entertaining in the long salon. Even to Ashcroft, who knew the room well, the gold on every surface was blinding.
“You’re right.” Her breathless undertone of amusement threw coal on his flaming need. For the moment, the shy, almost hesitant woman from the carriage had vanished. “It is rather…spectacular.”
Behind them, he heard the footman close the door. “This way, my lord.”
Diana and Ashcroft crossed the polished marble floor, avoiding the shrouded furniture. Ashcroft had been to so many parties in this salon, it was disconcerting to see it empty. As if disapproving of his lustful intentions, the sulky faces in the huge painting of Zeus and Ganymede frowned down from the far wall.