Sal had said. She sagged again.
‘Exactly,’ he went on tersely. ‘And just for the moment, you’re better off—believe it or not—in here. With me.’ He tilted his head to indicate the riotous noise of brawling on every floor of this tall house.
The candles flickered, warningly. And oh, how their shadows highlighted the hard slant of his cheekbones, the wicked curl of his sensual mouth. Rosalie swallowed on the dryness in her throat. His dark eyes—she saw now they were velvet-brown, almost black—glowed with golden flecks as he gazed down at her. For a reason she couldn’t explain, a sudden lick of heat uncoiled from deep within and suffused every part of her body.
In trouble. Oh, yes.
Suddenly, like an eel—my God, thought Alec, this one’s used to fighting her own corner—she twisted from his grasp and ran for another door she’d spied at the far end of this whore’s boudoir. He lunged after her and caught her easily, this time trapping her by planting his hands firmly against the wall on either side of her shoulders. Her small breasts rose and fell in agitation; her amazing turquoise-blue eyes were wide with defiance.
‘Steady. Steady, Athena,’ warned Alec. ‘You know, I’d really like you to explain why you came to my aid in that brawl back there.’
She hadn’t the faintest idea. She jerked her head up. ‘How about you explaining why you’re reduced to paying for your pleasure in a place like this?’
And her lips spouted insults. Surprisingly eloquent insults, registered Alec. And the scent of her gleaming blonde hair was quite bewitching. She tried again to wriggle away, knocking a small painting off its hook on the wall so that it crashed to the floor. He stepped back, involuntarily; she swooped to the ground and picked it up.
‘Oh!’ she cried. ‘Look what you made me do, you fool! Luckily it’s not damaged …’
Alec looked on, incredulous as she turned her back on him and very carefully replaced the painting on the wall. He said at last, ‘You know, you’re in all sorts of trouble, Athena. And you’re worried about—a painting?’
She looked at him furiously. ‘It’s not just a painting, like the other cheap nonsense in here!’ The colour tinged her cheeks as she glanced round at the other works of art, whose content, Alec had noted, was decidedly bawdy. ‘Any fool can see that this painting is by Boucher and he’s famous for his watercolours! His paintings are masterpieces, though what one of them is doing in this dreadful place I cannot imagine!’
Dreadful place. Alec noted that. ‘How, Athena, do you know about art?’
Her hands were on her hips again; she tossed back her hair defiantly. ‘Why shouldn’t I know about art? Anyway, I’m not the only one in trouble—what did you do, to make those men attack you?’
‘I rather think,’ he said, ‘that I offended someone here tonight.’
‘If you go around speaking to people as you did to that man you called Stephen, then I’m not in the least surprised!’ she said tartly. ‘Why were you so rude to him?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t like him very much,’ he said. ‘And judging by the way you threw his money back in his face, you didn’t take to him either.’
Rosalie caught her breath. Something she’d never experienced before surged warmly through her. She, normally so resistant to men and their various wiles, could not even look this one in the eyes—those dark, glinting eyes—without her stomach turning peculiarly upside down.
Alone in a whore’s boudoir. With him.
Outside beyond this room the mayhem continued, with the sounds of men brawling and furniture breaking, followed by the crashing jangle of Mrs Barnard’s piano as it went over on its side. Rosalie forced herself to meet his dark eyes. ‘Do you have this effect wherever you go?’
‘Not my fault. I told you, someone paid those louts to attack me. Though it’s true that I attract attention,’ he said. His sleepy eyes gazed, unblinking, into hers. ‘Yours, for example, Athena. Earlier I saw you watching me. From the stage.’
Her heart juddered. ‘Watching you! Ridiculous! I’m short-sighted, I couldn’t possibly see that far!’
‘Strange, I gained the distinct impression you were watching me quite carefully.’
His hand, unbelievably, was curling round her slender waist. Drawing her close. Even more unbelievably, she was letting him do it. His fingertips were warm and firm through the filmy fabric of this stupid gown … She jerked herself away, the blood racing through her veins. ‘Oh, no! You can stop this, right now!’
‘Stop? But isn’t this why you’re here?’ His expression was innocent, but there was a hint of dark irony in his voice. ‘To—make yourself available?’
Damn the man. ‘Yes,’ she lied, her heart racing, ‘yes, of course, but at a time like this—it’s absurd—it’s like …’
‘Fiddling while Rome burns?’ he murmured, eyes glinting. ‘Deuce—I forgot—we’re supposed to be in Grecian mythology tonight, aren’t we? Athena, I appeal to your sense of justice. My God, I’ve had to pay a lot for tonight’s entertainment!’
She let her eyes rove scornfully over his shabby coat, which had certainly seen better days. ‘Too expensive for you?’ she said sweetly.
‘It’s a matter of principle.’ He smiled pleasantly back. ‘You see, I normally never have to pay for female company.’
Unbelievable arrogance! She gasped and tried to slap him; a mistake, because he caught hold of her raised wrist, and of course once more she was in his power. She fought hard to free herself. ‘Let me go. You know that I’m in danger here and need to get out!’
Just then a couple of men tangled in drunken combat blundered through the doorway, grunting and swearing. Releasing her, he moved swiftly to push them back into the hall and kicked the door shut again, hard, before locking it.
And he came slowly back towards her. Dear Lord, this man was dangerous. Hadn’t she registered it from the moment she saw him? That velvet couch seemed to fill the blasted room. Even the single candle flickered as if in warning. A coil of something dark, something forbidden, snaked down to her stomach even as she clamped down desperately on the effect this man was having on her pulse rate. Her breathing. Her existence.
‘A bargain, Athena,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll get you safely out of here, if you’ll tell me why that man Stephen claimed to have business with you.’
She shrugged and moistened her dry lips. ‘How should I know? He just said—he was eager to get to know me better. As they all do,’ she supposed.
His dark eyes flashed with incredulity. ‘Yet you threw away his money?’
Rosalie glanced towards the locked door. ‘Let me go now. Please.’
Still his lithe figure blocked her way. His strong hands were warm on her shoulders again. ‘Not before you promise me that you won’t throw yourself away, in a place like this. To a brute like Lord Stephen Maybury.’
She breathed
