Samantha (Barrett 2)

"Are you enjoying yourself, imp?" Rem questioned, leading her onto the dance floor for the waltz she'd promised him.

"What?" Sammy turned dazed eyes to his.

Rem's dimple flashed. "I asked if you were enjoying yourself." Lazily, he caressed her palm with his thumb.

Sammy's heart lurched. "You're torturing me," she whispered.

"No, sweetheart. I'm heightening your anticipation."

"You're so ... experienced," she blurted out, lightheaded from the punch she'd consumed, her nerves taut to breaking.

Rem chuckled, maddeningly. "And you're so innocent." His voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "I want to drown in you."

Sammy's eyes slid shut. "Can we please leave?"

"Soon." He whirled her around. "Very soon."

"I believe the next dance is mine."

Viscount Anders's voice was like a bucket of ice water on Sammy's heated body.

"Stephen?" She knew she sounded disoriented, but Anders was the last person she'd expected, or wanted, to see.

"Good evening, Samantha." Stephen's tone was frosty, his expression emanating irritated censure. "I hear you've cut a path at nearly every party in London."

"We have. And if you wish to speak with Samantha, you'll have to wait. This particular waltz belongs to me." Rem whirled Sammy off.

"Oh, Rem." Sammy felt all too sober as she glanced uneasily back at Stephen's furious expression. "Did you have to be so rude?"

Rem shrugged. "I loathe the man, I loathe the way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you, the way he thinks of you as his. I also distrust him. I think he's an unprincipled snake. So, yes, I had to be rude. And incidentally, as your visit to Allonshire precluded Anders from calling on you today, this is the perfect time for you to return his necklace."

"I don't have it with me."

"Tell him you'll have it delivered."

Her heart warmed by Rem's show of jealousy, Sammy stepped a tad closer, her chin just brushing his frilled shirt. "You're terribly overbearing, my lord," she murmured softly. "'Tis fortunate I prefer an overbearing hero."

Rem stared down into her beautiful, teasing face, and a jolt of desire shot through his loins. "Christ, I want you under me."

Heat surged through Sammy's body. "We can't leave now," she said weakly, wishing with all her heart Stephen were anywhere but here.

"Because of Anders." Rem's jaw clenched.

"Rem ... please." Her fingers tightened within his. "It's not because I feel anything for him. But if we were to take our leave now, before he claimed the dance I promised him—"

"You promised him nothing. He assumed." It took every shred of Rem's unshakable discipline to bring his temper under control. But Samantha's honor was at stake. "You're right," he agreed flatly. "If Anders sees you leave with me, he'll assume the worst. Your reputation won't be worth a damn. So have your bloody dance with him. But tell him it's his last."

"I shall, my lord."

Rem stood stiffly by as Anders came to claim his dance.

"Samantha, you look lovely." Pointedly, the viscount ignored Rem. "But tell me, where is the necklace I gave you?"

With a meaningful cough, Rem strolled off.

Sammy waited until the minuet was under way before she answered. "I cannot wear your necklace, Stephen."

"Whyever not?"