Surrender To Love. Rosemary Rogers

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ like champagne?” Lord Charles had prompted after Alexa had taken a few sips of that first glass.

      “I like its dryness! I remember reading one of Papa’s books once that was all about wines and different vintages and where the best wines come from. It’s the effervescence—all those little bubbles—that take getting used to at first, I suppose; although I daresay that with enough practice one would no longer notice.”

      By the time she had drained a second glass of champagne and found herself holding a third, Alexa wondered, with a sudden return to caution, how Lord Charles had managed to maneuver her out through the French doors and onto the gallery. She must be careful or she would spoil everything, and Aunt Harriet would be disgusted with her.

      Alexa had turned to place her back against the polished wooden railing, and in her white and gold ball gown she seemed to be framed by the pattern of trees and lawns and a dark night sky studded with a profusion of glittering stars. How much Lord Charles wanted to seize her in his arms and kiss her, knowing that of course he did not dare try to do so, at least not yet. He must be careful not to startle her or scare her off; and there was that aunt of hers to be reckoned with as well.

      There was an unaccustomed stammer in his voice when Lord Charles said: “There is a slight possibility…Miss Howard, I am very much aware of the fact that we have only known each other a few hours, and I am only too well aware of manners and convention, believe me. But I have so enjoyed conversing with you and, well, what I mean to say is that if our ship should happen to be delayed in Colombo for a few days, I would deem it an honor to be permitted to call on you. You did mention that you would be staying with Sir John Travers at his residence here, did you not? I would naturally request his permission first, and your aunt’s as well; but if you would have no objections to our meeting again, I would like that above all things!”

      “At least you had enough sense to come back inside before your absence could be remarked upon. It would never do, my girl, to let yourself become conspicuous!”

      Harriet, fanning herself vigorously, had given Alexa a very thorough scrutiny when she had returned to sit demurely at her aunt’s side again while the young Viscount took himself off to procure her a dish of fresh fruit and cream. At least, Harriet had thought then, she did not look as if she had been kissed; and her ball gown still looked uncrumpled and had no stains from food or drink upon it. She grumbled. “But what on earth made you suddenly decide you were hungry at this late stage in the evening, just when the dancing is about to begin again?”

      Alexa gave Harriet a mischievous smile. “Two and a half glasses of champagne, I’m afraid! I really do not feel at all hungry after that enormous dinner; but I remember listening to the boys talk, and they all agreed that it was most unwise to drink on an empty stomach.” Catching Harriet’s expression she added quickly: “Please don’t think that I am in the least intoxicated, Aunt Harry, even if this was the first time I have tried champagne. I understand that it is quite de rigueur nowadays for ladies even in the highest circles, and that even the Queen does so occasionally. So you see there’s no need for you to look at me that way or to scold; for I might just as well get used to it and learn to hold my liquor, as the boys up-country would say.”

      “Hold your liquor indeed!” Harriet snapped. “And if you keep talking of those harebrained young officers you used to ride and hunt with as ‘the boys’ you could very well be misunderstood by someone who does not know you. Champagne! Nasty, fizzy stuff—I never did acquire a liking for it. Tell me the truth now, because I won’t have you making a fool of yourself when the evening’s gone so well until now. Do you feel at all dizzy? Does your face feel abnormally hot? You look quite flushed…”

      “Oh please, Aunt Harriet!” Alexa could not help the note of impatience in her voice. “I have told you the truth; and you have been reminding me all evening that I am a grown-up young woman now and not a child. I do not feel dizzy and if my face appears flushed…” She broke off when Harriet nudged her ankle with her foot; and looking up saw Lord Charles return, followed by two servants.

      “Hah! I’d like to see you put away all that, my girl!” Harriet whispered from behind her fan in a grim undertone. Her look was dour, for she would have liked to say much more to her headstrong niece on the subject of drinking; especially champagne, which was said to have a very insidious effect.

      There appeared two small gilt-edged tables and a large silver platter holding every imaginable kind of fruit, together with pitchers of thick cream. But even as the servants began to arrange everything before her, Alexa’s eyes had already gone beyond them and past the smile on Lord Charles’s face to rivet, without reason, upon the man who walked at his side. She had thought the Viscount Deering tall, but this man was taller yet by at least four inches and had broader shoulders. His formal evening attire fitted him so closely that it had obviously been made for him—long, tightly fitting trousers (Aunt Harriet called them “unmentionables ”) that matched the black double-breasted jacket cut short in front to display a richly embroidered satin brocade waistcoat fashioned of varying shades of reds and golds and dark green; a strangely glowing dark green that seemed to match exactly his dark-lashed eyes. Animal eyes, Alexa thought inconsequentially. Like some she had seen glowing out at her from the dark in the sudden flare of a campfire. And there was something dangerous and almost barbaric about him that she could sense without quite understanding why or how at first: that sunbrowned face that was as dark as that of any native, with curly black sideburns sweeping down rakishly from temple to jawline and serving only to emphasize the harsh planes of his face. Even though he wore an air of easy assurance and civilization he was—in some strangely indefinable way—different. Like a primitive tribal warlord of ancient times who had chosen to masquerade in modern clothing; at least, for as long as it suited him.

      Alexa discovered almost immediately that she did not like him, and that she especially hated the insolent way in which he looked her over without seeming to. She could almost feel his eyes on her mouth, her bosom, her…And now, unfortunately, she could not help the flush that colored her cheekbones while she thought angrily that the man was obviously a cad, and she was amazed that Lord Charles would associate with such a person.

      It was all Alexa could do to keep up an appearance at least of being poised and unconcerned while the Viscount Deering proceeded to introduce her and her aunt to his several-times-removed cousin Nicholas. De la Guerra. Puzzlingly, a Spanish surname, although it was the mother who had been Spanish, according to Lord Charles. Not that it mattered to her—she only knew what her senses felt and wondered why her hands suddenly felt so cold and clammy, while she wished at the same time that he would walk away instead of continuing to watch her—for all the world like a leopard eying its prey.

      “The Misses Howard live on a large coffee plantation in the central, mountainous part of Ceylon where it gets quite cool at certain times of the year, so I understand.”

      “But I suppose that Colombo, in spite of the heat and humidity, must have its compensations. Do you visit here often, Miss Howard?”

      Suddenly, Alexa found herself clenching her hands under the folds of her skirt, her first stirrings of disquiet growing into ugly suspicion that kept expanding and expanding. His voice, with an edge of cynicism underlining each overtly polite word…She had the feeling she had heard it before. That…Oh, please God, no!

      “No!” Alexa said the word aloud without meaning to, and far too abruptly, judging from the Viscount’s rather startled glance. “That is—” she amended quickly “—we do not visit Colombo often at all. Do we, Aunt Harriet? This time it was only because…Of course it is so kind of the Governor and Mrs. Mackenzie…”

      What on earth was wrong with the girl? Harriet thought irritably. She had behaved so well and with such poise all evening; and now, all of a sudden, she had begun to stutter like a schoolgirl. It had to be the champagne she had indulged in.

СКАЧАТЬ