Page 82 of You Belong to Me
She was dancing when the buzzing started, conversations everywhere picking up in volume, as if everyone were suddenly talking at once. Her partner was trying to look aroundto see what was happening, but he was no taller than she was, and he could find nothing amiss. She wasn’t curious herself, although she couldn’t help hearing some of the talk going on around her as they continued to twirl past the other couples on the dance floor.
“Is it the queen?”
“Over there by the…”
“…never seen anyone so…”
“Good God, who is…”
“…so handsome…”
“…sohandsome…”
“…sohandsome…”
Her partner had actually stopped dancing, even though the music continued to play. He didn’t remember to apologize, he was so curious. But everyone else around them was doing the same thing, and the buzzing was getting even louder.
Alexandra sighed and excused herself to leave the floor. Whoever had so impressed these people was of no interest to her. So handsome? They’d have to go to Russia, to Cardinia to be exact, to seereallyhandsome.
And then the crowd was suddenly parting before her, clearing a path for the man slowly walking across the room. And in the opened space she couldn’t miss him, couldn’t believe her eyes either, and couldn’t take another step.
Vasili in London? Impossible. Yet there he was, coming straight toward her, his honey-gold eyes, as bright as she’d ever seen them, locked on hers. Everyoneelse saw an inscrutable expression, but she knew what that golden brightness indicated, that he was angry enough to throttle her, and she couldn’t decide whether she ought to run, faint, cry—or laugh for the sheer joy that was overwhelming her senses at the very sight of him.
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“We can discuss this for everyone’s delectation, or you can come with me,” Vasili said with forced evenness. “I have a carriage waiting outside.”
That wasn’t at all what Alexandra was expecting to hear. If she had been as angry as she suspected Vasili was, she wouldn’t have held off whatever “this” was, just to avoid making an embarrassing scene. Of course, she was used to causing scenes and—and she’d better answer him before he made the decision for her.
“I was just about to leave anyway,” she told him, her own tone carefully neutral.
It wasn’t true, even if it was what she’d wanted to do ever since arriving. But she figured if she didn’t go with him, he’d just become angrier, because then he’d be making that scene she knew he didn’t want to make.
However, she nearly changed her mind about going anywhere with him. Although he had her compliance, she still felt as if he were dragging her out of there. But before shecould make up her mind whether it would be in her best interest to remain where there were people, they were outside, and she was being shoved into his waiting carriage.
“Is it your intention to freeze me?” she asked, her tone sarcastic.
He hadn’t stopped long enough to retrieve her evening cloak, and the winter night air was damp and frigid. Inside the large, well-appointed carriage, it was not much warmer. But rather than go back for her wrap, he tossed a carriage blanket at her before he sat down.
The vehicle departed immediately with the slamming of the door, jerking Alexandra nearly off the edge of the seat. It wouldn’t take much more for her to be losing her temper.
“Explain yourself, Petroff. If I had known you had a trip to England scheduled, I would have gone elsewhere.”
“Would you? I doubt that.”
He was sitting opposite her with his arms crossed, his legs stretched out and also crossed, his eyes still aglow as he stared at her. Whatever pleasure she had felt upon first seeing him was fast dissipating, irritation taking its place. And that he said no more after his sardonic remark left a silence that unnerved her.
She broke it, demanding, “Well? I assume there is some particular reason you have sought me out—or did we have the misfortune to turn up at the same function as well as in the same town?”
“We’ll get to that in a moment, Alex. Right now I’m having a little trouble adjusting to seeing you, for all intents and purposes, looking like a lady. Or do you have your britches on underneath that gown?”
She couldn’t imagine why that question made her blush, but it did. “If you failed to notice, that was a ball you dragged me out of. I do happen to know what the required dress is for such an occasion.”
“No britches, then?”
She glared at him in answer. Vasili wasn’t amused. He was, in fact, even more incredulous now than when he’d first spotted her on the dance floor. Silk and lace. He’d had fantasies of her wearing just that, but he could never have imagined anything like this. The artfully arranged coiffure, the long evening gloves, the deep scoop of her neckline—Jesus, her breasts, her magnificent breasts on display for any man who cared to look.
Even as that infuriated him, Vasili had to allow that he had never seen Alexandra looking more beautiful. And he resented that she had always denied him this soft, feminine side of her, that he hadn’t known she even had a side like this—except in bed.
