Swept Away. Candace Camp
shot down her nerves, but she made herself turn casually to look at the speaker. Lord Stonehaven was standing only a foot away from her, a smile that she could classify only as supercilious touching his mouth. He was watching her, his dark eyes faintly amused. He was even more handsome up close, she thought, the sort of man who would set young women to giggling and smirking. Julia, however, had no desire to do either one; the urge she felt rushing up inside her was a strong desire to launch into him, fists flying. This man had ruined her brother! Her anger was so deep and bitter, she could almost taste it. It was going to require all her self-possession, she realized, to pretend to calm indifference.
“Were you addressing me, sir?” she asked in as cool a voice as she could muster.
“Why, yes, I was.” The amusement in his eyes deepened. “Sorry—I realize that we are not acquainted, but I presumed upon a common interest.” He made a vague gesture toward the room.
“Indeed.” Julia gave him a small smile, letting a hint of the dimple appear in her cheek. She had, after all, to give him some encouragement even as she pretended to elude him.
He returned the smile, and Julia felt her stomach turn a little flip. Who would have thought that a man such as he could have so much warmth in his eyes? She glanced away quickly, then worried that she had been too demure for the part she was playing.
“Have you played here before?” he asked, and she turned her attention back to him. “I have not seen you.”
“No. This is my first evening here. I came with a friend.”
“A good friend?” he asked in a slow, rich voice, and she realized that he was subtly asking if she was some other man’s mistress.
“No,” she replied, hoping that her cheeks did not betray her by reddening. “Not a good friend.”
“How nice for me. Then I am hopeful he will not mind if I get you a glass of punch.”
“It does not matter. You see, it is I you must ask about such things, not any man.”
He grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Ah. An independent woman, I see.”
“Indeed I am.”
“Then may I escort you to the refreshment tables?” He offered her his arm.
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “That would be very nice.”
There was something quite freeing about acting this way, Julia thought as she walked with him into the hall. She had never before in her life been in a place like this, where there were no matrons watching, no expectations on everyone’s part of how a young woman should act and what she should say. Though Julia considered herself a free thinker, she had been raised to act as a young lady should, and she had always been aware of the need to act in such a way as not to bring any embarrassment to her family.
Like any other young woman, she was careful not to dance more than twice with the same man and not to flirt too much with any one man, lest she be said to be forward. She had always to pay her respects to the old ladies who lined the walls at the county cotillions, looking like a group of well-fed buzzards in their invariably black dresses, and to be careful not to say something to offend them. If a man wanted to escort her down to dine at a ball, he had first to request permission of her chaperon. These were the sorts of restrictions that chafed at her, but which she knew she could not flout without bringing down local censure not only on herself but on poor Phoebe, and before that her mother, for their perceived laxity in training her.
But here there were no duennas, no women who could enumerate her family lineage back to Queen Elizabeth, if not beyond. There was no one to gossip or to care how she acted, no conventions to flout. No one even knew who she was, so her family name could not be called into shame. There was not the least likelihood that anyone would be shocked by her behavior, unless perhaps she decided to take it into her head to get up on a table and remove all her clothes—and from what she had seen of many of the avid cardplayers here tonight, most of them would be concerned only because she was wasting one of their card tables. She could, she thought, say exactly what she wanted and act precisely how she pleased, and no one would give it a second thought.
“I hope your thoughts concern me,” her companion said, and Julia turned to look at him, startled.
“What?”
“Your smile was one of such happiness, I was hopeful that I figured in your thoughts.”
“Oh.” Julia chuckled. “Now you have me, sir, for if I say they were of you, then I am over bold, and if I say they were not, I am insulting.”
“I suspect that you are a woman who does not care particularly if either is said of you.”
Julia gave him an enigmatic smile. “I would say that would depend on who was speaking.”
“Ah. Well, I am not so foolishly brave as to ask whether I would be one whose opinion would matter to you.” They had reached the rear-most room of the first floor, where a long sideboard held not only a punch bowl but a number of platters of cheeses, meats, breads and cakes. “No, pray, do not answer. Tell me instead what to put on your plate.”
He picked up a glass plate and began to fill it with various delicacies, though Julia doubted that her nerves would allow her to eat much, if any, of them. She would have protested that she did not want to eat, but she knew that being alone with him in the dining area was far better for her purposes than returning to the card rooms. Once he had filled two plates and added cups of punch to them, Stonehaven led her back into the entryway and up the stairs to the second floor. Julia followed him, surprised.
“But where are we going?”
“Only a quieter place to talk and eat.” He gestured toward a low velvet sofa against the wall at the side of the stairs. A potted palm shielded it partially from view, and it offered a comfortable, quiet place to sit.
Julia sat down, taking her plate, and he sat down beside her, much closer than was proper. It was odd to have a strange man this close to her. She was very aware of the heat of his body, the breadth of his shoulders, the faint scent of his masculine cologne. She had never thought about his smelling this good, she thought. Impatiently, she called back her errant thoughts; she had to concentrate on her purpose.
“Are there gaming rooms up here?” she asked, more to keep her thoughts on track than to satisfy any real curiosity.
“Yes, these rooms are where you find those who like to dip deep.” He gestured toward the two closed doors that lay in front of the stairs. “That room over there, where the door is open, is simply a sort of sitting room, where one can pause to collect oneself between games. I don’t believe that I have ever seen anyone in it.”
“The gamesters here do seem preoccupied with their cards,” Julia admitted, taking a bit of cheese on a cracker and finding it quite tasty. Perhaps she was hungrier than she had thought.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Julia glanced at him. He was watching her eat, his own food untouched on the plate, and the heat in his eyes sent a shiver straight through her. His gaze slid down from her mouth, taking in the long curve of her white throat, and came to rest upon the swell of her breasts above the dress. Julia resisted the impulse to tug the dress higher. She had more than once surprised a hot, secret look on the face of one of her admirers, but none of them had ever looked at her like this—as if they had a right to do so, as if they were picturing her without any clothes on at all. And certainly none of their love-struck gazes had ever made her feel this strange combination of shivers and heat inside.
She swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. She tried to think what a woman of the sort she was playing would do, but her mind was curiously sluggish. He reached over and ran his forefinger down her cheek and across her jawline to her chin.
“You are a beautiful woman.”
“Th-thank you.” His skin felt like fire upon hers, and Julia had the sudden, awful feeling that she was in over her head.
“I