“And the English,” he said, a wicked light in his eyes. “I have heard it said they are as cold and aloof as their wretched weather.”
“I—we are not cold, signore.”
They were separated again, and by the time he was close to her, Adam said, “That will doubtless please your husband, signorina.”
“I do not have a husband.”
“A lady as beautiful as you will not long last without one, I think, signorina.”
“You speak very smoothly, signore,” Rayna said stiffly. She thought he was flirting with her simply because it was his habit to do so.
“Yes, I suppose that I do,” Adam said.
“I wish you would not. I do not like gentlemen to say pretty things. It is not honest.”
“Just because I spoke smoothly,” Adam said, studying her upturned face, “does not mean I am not honest. It simply means that I am intelligent enough to be able to admire a beautiful woman suitably.”
“I am but half English,” Rayna said.
She has no guile, he thought. It both intrigued and worried him. “Ah, a skeleton in your sire’s closet?”
“Oh, no. My mother is an American. They met in New York when my father was a major in the English army during the war with the colonies. I am the youngest of six children, and the only female.”
Adam managed to look appropriately surprised. “Then I must be careful not to offend you, mademoiselle. Five brothers. I am blessed with but one sister to protect me.”
“They are overbearing at times,” Rayna said. “They teased me unmercifully when I was a child.”
“It must be the fate of younger sisters,” Adam said. “I too am a mixed breed.”
“You are from Sicily, monsieur?”
Adam found he did not wish to lie outright to her, and said easily, “You are wondering perhaps about my blue eyes?”
“They are rather startling. I was waiting to get closer to you to see if they were truly such a deep blue.”
Adam stared down at her for a long moment. He realized with a start that the music had stopped. “I thank you for the dance, mademoiselle. Perhaps you will dance with me again this evening?”
“Yes, monsieur, I should like that.”
“You dance as sweetly as you blush,” Adam said.
Rayna’s hands flew to her cheeks. “I cannot help it. It has nothing to do with you, monsieur.”
“A pity,” Adam said, grinning. He knew that flirting with Rayna Lyndhurst was the height of folly. But she was so damned refreshing, and so unlike the flippantly sophisticated ladies of his acquaintance. “I will take you back to your fond parent,” he said, offering his arm. He felt her fingers tighten about his sleeve, and cocked a thick black brow at her.
“You will not forget our next dance, will you?”
The Comte de la Valle was striding confidently toward them, ready to take Rayna back to the dance floor.
He said, “No, I shan’t forget. Your friend—Lady Arabella is her name?” At her nod, he continued, “I should like to dance with her.”
She had bored him. She knew Arabella would never bore anyone, this gentleman included. “Arabella is a graceful dancer,” she said only.
“If she is as graceful as you, mademoiselle, then my evening—well, it will not have been a futile exercise in smiling.”
The Comte de la Valle was standing impatiently beside them. “Gervaise,” Adam said to him. He bowed and strode away toward Arabella, who was standing alone, fanning herself.
“Why don’t we get something cool to drink?” Adam said to his sister, and without waiting for an answer, caught her arm.