Free Devil in My Arms by Samantha Kane Page A

of dancing with the shy ones, and those overlooked by the young peacocks who only had eyes for birds of like feather. Good Lord, he could hardly tolerate his own bad manners.
    She glowed . Perhaps it was a trick of the light. She was standing at just the right spot for the candlelight from the chandelier to hit her at the perfect angle to create abeatific effect. Without exact measurements he couldn’t say precisely what that angle was, though he was sure if he could, he’d be able to sell the information for a tidy sum to marriage-minded hopefuls and their mothers. So the fact that she seemed to glow was merely a scientific phenomenon, and not a result of any tender feelings on his part.
    He paced along the pink wall, behind a row of potted palms to the left of the French doors leading to the garden. As he paced she came into view between palm fronds, as if he were watching her through the slats in a fence. Why did she fascinate him? She’d kept pace with him tonight during their conversation. It was quite hard to ruffle her feathers. She’d taken his inappropriate conversation in stride, his innuendo about her charms had gone unremarked, and she’d had the nerve to challenge his sincerity and powers of observation. And then she’d orchestrated the dance, depriving him of her conversation. Rather than cool his ardor, it had only heated his blood further. Was this mere infatuation for one whose intelligence and wit were a match for his? Or was it more?
    He was physically attracted to her. There was no doubt. It was shocking. His attentions recently had been reserved for far more voluptuous women. Roger went so far as to call them plump, but Hil thought of them as generously curved. He’d thoroughly enjoyed their abundant charms. Eleanor, on the other hand, had only recently filled out from the hungry waif she’d seemed upon her arrival in London. She was far from plump. Curved, yes, but subtly so. If one had never spoken with her, her figure would be unremarkable, indistinguishable from hundreds like it in Mayfair alone. But having spoken to her … aye, there was the rub. Her voice made one notice the decadent fullness of her mouth. Watching her breathe drew one’s eyes to her firm, high bosom, a handful of plenty behind her demure necklines. As she turned her head to look at you, a man couldn’t help noticing her long, graceful neck, and the way her short curls framed delicate ears, with lobes made for a man’s mouth.
    Good God, he thought her ears were alluring. He couldn’t for the life of him remember ever waxing rhapsodic over a woman’s earlobes. Yet he’d daydreamed just five minutes ago about adorning hers with emeralds and then removing them with his lips and teeth. He’d initially been attracted to her intellect. Now he desired her physically. More than anything right now, he longed to know if she would prove as worthy anopponent in bed.
    He stepped through a gap in the palms. He’d waited long enough.
    Her gaze found him as soon as he stepped out from behind the plants. She’d been watching him, too. Interesting. He smiled and she raised a brow in inquiry even as she nodded at something old Tolliver was saying. As he approached purposefully, her eyes grew large. He could read the warning in her face. She didn’t want a scene. For some reason she seemed to think association with him would taint her reputation. He didn’t give a damn about his reputation, and therefore society turned a blind eye to his foibles. They only preyed on the weak. He was far from weak, as was Eleanor. She needn’t fear them.
    “Dance with me,” he said quietly when he reached her side. Beside him Tolliver cleared his throat. “Ah, Tolliver,” he said with a smile in the old man’s direction. “Do excuse me. I was unable to resist Mrs. Fairchild’s enchanting beauty this evening. What man would not wish to dance with one so fair?”
    “Indeed,” Tolliver rumbled as his wife tittered, “if I were a younger man