Velvet Embrace

Against her better judgment, Brie felt herself relaxing in his arms. When she ventured to look up at her tall partner, the dark glitter in Dominic's eyes held her entranced, and she found herself unable to tear her gaze away.

One by one, the other couples seemed to fade away, till only she and Dominic were dancing together in the enormous ballroom. His arm tightened about her waist, drawing her closer, and Brie caught her breath as her breasts brushed the hard wall of his chest. She trembled, watching as his lips came closer and closer. . . .

> Fortunately, the music ended. Yet, Dominic continued to stare down at her, his arms locked about her waist. When he made no move to release her, Brie dazedly looked around and saw that the other couples were separating. "M-my lord," she stammered, twisting out of his embrace.

Recollecting himself, Dominic shook his head as he tried to recover his equilibrium. He had been about to kiss Brie in the middle of a crowded ballroom, for Christ's sake! What kind of strange spell had she cast over him?

More shaken by his encounter with this bewitching beauty than he would ever admit, Dominic took refuge in sarcasm. "You seem to be forever running from me," he said acidly.

His derisiveness stemmed more from a desire to protect himself than any wish to hurt her, but it completely shattered the spell for Brie. She stared up at him for a long moment. Then feeling tears sting her eyes, she turned and fled.

Dominic let her go. He had not meant to snap at her like that, but to pursue her now in order to apologize would only exacerbate the situation and perhaps cause a scandal as well. He would have to give her time to recover before he tried to make amends.

Brie threaded her way blindly through the crowd, wanting to escape the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom. When a waiter passed bearing a tray of champagne, she seized a glass and drank its contents in one long draught, but it did little to calm her agitation. Seeing that one of the French windows had been thrown open to combat the heat of the chandeliers, Brie slipped through the doors and found herself out on the terrace.

The late winter air was cold and biting against her bare shoulders, but she welcomed the chill. Leaning on the stone balustrade for support, she took several ragged breaths, trying to purge the conflicting emotions that warred inside her. Then after a moment she made her way down the flight of steps to the garden and soothing darkness.

Dominic had seen her leave the ballroom and was debating whether to follow her when Squire Umstead clapped him on the shoulder and began telling him about the sow that had won first prize at last year's fair. Dominic listened with one ear as he kept his gaze trained on the French doors. His eyes narrowed when he saw Rupert Umstead wander out onto the terrace.

The squire followed Dominic's gaze and broke off his story to swear heartily, "There's that damned cub of mine, and I'll wager a pint of my best stout that he's up to no good. Brie Carringdon went out that door not two minutes ago. I had better go after him. He'll only disgrace himself."

Dominic laid a hand on the squire's sleeve. "Perhaps you would allow me. I expect it's my fault Miss Carringdon is out there."

The squire eyed him quizzically. "Quarreled, did you?"

"Something like that."

"It isn't Brie I'm worried about. She can take care of herself. My boy's the one who concerns me. He's liable to get hurt if he gets her dander up. Wouldn't want him challenging a man like you, either. Might get his fool head blown off."

The corner of Dominic's mouth twisted in agrin. "I promise it won't come to that. Accepting challenges from callow youths is not something I relish. They're too likely to get off a lucky shot."

Having seen Dominic's skill with firearms, Squire Umstead chuckled. "Very well, then, go to it, man. I suppose Brie would rather have you save her anyway."

"Perhaps," Dominic remarked dryly, before making his way across the ballroom.

Once on the terrace, he paused to let his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness as he searched the shadows below. Although the golden light filtering out from the ballroom stopped short of the garden, the moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the bare foliage.

Dominic could see no trace of Brie, but as he started down the steps, he heard a woman's cry followed by the sounds of a scuffle, then a slap and a loud grunt. Disquieted, Dominic leapt down the remaining steps and broke into a run.

When he rounded a hedge, though, he stopped short. The shadowy scene before him was not what he had expected. Rupert Umstead lay sprawled on the ground, groaning as he clutched at his groin, while Brie stood over him, hands on hips, fairly spitting in her fury. Dominic found it difficult to repress his laughter as she raged at the unfortunate boy.

"If you think I like being pawed, Rupert, you are much mistaken! Go lavish your drunken attentions on someone else. I will not stand for it, do you hear?" Her tirade was accompanied by a stamp of her foot for emphasis.

Still moaning, Rupert pulled himself up to a sitting position, trying to regain his lost dignity. "But I want to marry you," he protested.

"Well, I do not want to marry you! I would sooner marry—" Brie hesitated and Dominic knew she was trying to think of an appropriately vile comparison. He was surprised by the one she chose. "I'd sooner marry that odious Stanton!"

The Umstead boy sniffed indignantly. "I should say so. An earl. Who could compete with a fellow of his rank?"

"Oh . . . , just go away, Rupert. Go away this instant, before I decide to tell your father how badly you have behaved!"

Stamping her foot again with obvious impatience, she pointed in the direction of the house. Dominic stepped back into the concealing shadows as she waited for Rupert to slink away.

When her would-be lover had gone, Brie attempted to smooth her hair and straighten her clothes. Realizing then that the bodice of her gown had been torn by Rupert's lecherous hands, she let out an oath that would have done credit to any of the stableboys in her employ and gave a vicious kick to the trunk of the oak tree nearest her, bruising her foot in the process. When the pain had subsided, Brie collapsed against the oak and buried her head in her arms. It was too much, she thought with a groan. She would find Caroline and leave at once.

She shivered with revulsion as she remembered the feel of Rupert's hands on her breasts. She had not been afraid of him; his drunken pawing had disgusted rather than frightened her. But she hadn't liked him touching her. His hands had been cold and clutching, not at all like Dominic's hands. But at least Rupert's fumbling attempts at lovemaking had proved that she hadn't suddenly become a wanton. It was only Dominic's touch that had the power to arouse her. . . .

When she heard footsteps behind her, Brie thought Rupert had returned to accost her again. She whirled, raising one fist while clutching at her bodice with the other. But the man before her was too tall to be Rupert. Too tall, too dark, and too broad-shouldered. "You!" she exclaimed, backing nervously against the trunk of the tree.