Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood 2)

Indeed, he was still trying to determine whether he was so aroused by the lady's witty banter, he felt angry he'd not get the chance to bury himself inside her. Or, was he so angry with her for mistaking him for a fool, the need to command and conquer had caused desire to ignite.

Either way, anger and desire whirled around inside to leave him both frustrated and highly irritable.

"Let us find somewhere a little more private." He cupped her elbow, his grip firm as he steered her towards the terrace. "I am keen to hear your explanation."

"Where are we going?" she said tottering along beside him, and he could hear the nervous flutter in her voice. Caroline Rosemond would have offered a flirtatious remark, suggesting she was game for whatever vigorous pursuit he had in mind. Although there was always a price and he'd never been willing to pay.

"To find somewhere quiet, so we can talk."

The lady began mumbling to herself, her words softer than a whisper.

When he reached the doors leading out to the garden, she shrugged out of his grasp. "We can't go out there. What if someone should see us?"

"You forget. The majority of guests will assume you're Caroline Rosemond. Trust me. She would have no problem being seen alone in the garden with a gentleman."

She grabbed his sleeve and tugged it, forcing him to lean closer. A waft of orange blossom tickled his nose, the scent sweet and refreshing. "I think we have already established I am not Caroline. What if someone else sees through my disguise?"

"The only way that's going to happen is if you continue to grumble and complain. Hold your head up and walk like you're desperate to be alone with me."

What if he tries to kiss me?

Her silent question bounded back and forth in his head. It was the first coherent thought he'd been able to hone in on. "Don't worry. I'm not about to press myself upon your innocent lips," he added though he was tempted to see if she tasted as good as he imagined.

"I did not presume you would. But perhaps they are not so innocent."

"Of course not," he said suppressing a grin. He'd bet fifty guineas she would turn into a quivering wreck at the mere mention of anything more salacious than kissing.

He liked the way she puckered her lips when annoyed. It made a change from the sultry smiles and provocative pouts usually cast his way. When she'd squared her shoulders, she'd offered him another little treat. Although little was hardly the right word to describe such a plentiful display. They were soft, heavy and utterly magnificent.

"Are we to stand here all night gaping?" she said, and he shook his head in a bid to focus on the matter at hand. "People are beginning to stare."

Elliot glanced over her shoulder to find a sea of sparkling masks quickly averted. "No doubt the gossips are hanging on our every word. I suggest we move outside before we find ourselves depicted as ridiculous caricatures in the newspaper."

He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm before escorting her out onto the terrace and down the three small steps leading to the lawn.

"There's no need to sneak off in search of a secluded spot," he continued. Self-preservation was his only motive as he had no desire to fumble around with an innocent and this creature possessed such a sweet, beguiling charm even the Devil would question whose side he was on. "We'll just stroll around the perimeter. I do have my own reputation to consider, after all."

She scoffed. "From what I hear, it's a bit late to start worrying about that."

Somewhere, in a cobwebbed corner of his mind, he felt a stirring of disappointment. Why he should care what she thought of him was a complete mystery. After tonight, he'd probably never set eyes on her again. The memory would slowly fizzle away until he had no recollection of her sumptuous breasts and witty repartee.

"Are you going to tell me who you are?" He glanced at her vibrant hair, at the teasing mole on her cheek. "You're obviously kin to Miss Rosemond as the likeness is uncanny."

"Then you have answered your own question, my lord."

There was a brief moment of silence while he considered her need to be evasive.

"Are we to wander around aimlessly all night, trying to best the other by offering the wittiest quip?" Elliot smiled as he attempted to listen to her thoughts, but his own mind reflected the conflicting emotions of his body: an intense agitation mingled with the potent thrum of desire.

When she sighed, the sound spoke of anguish and sorrow. "You met with Caroline, two nights ago. I would like to know why. What did you speak of?"

Without warning, he stopped and pulled her round to face him. In her surprise, she sucked in a breath, and his gaze dropped to the smooth creamy swell.

"My private affairs are my own business," he said forcing his mind away from all libidinous thoughts. "But if it satisfies you, I have not seen Miss Rosemond for more than a week. And even then, we passed nothing more than the odd pleasantry."

"The odd pleasantry?" she repeated. "Are you usually so blasé about your conquests? I have proof you met with her."

Elliot was not in the habit of having his word questioned. Nor did he particularly like her accusatory tone.