fleeing from a fire as she entered the high-ceilinged, wide and panelled room where the party was in progress.
She stepped forward quickly as Stuart loomed up behind her, and in that instant her gaze fused with that of an even taller figure in matt-black evening suit and striking white shirt. His skin had something naturally gold about it and more than ever he looked as if he had stepped out of a Goya painting. He stood framed by tall embrasured windows draped in flame-coloured curtains . . . black, gold and flame of the Inquisition, striking in Debra a chord of awareness more intense than anything she had ever felt before.
A burning sensation ran over her skin and she had a wild desire to turn and run and not stop running until she was as many miles as she could get from that darkly brilliant gaze . . . compelling as the flame that traps the moth.
'That music is driving my feet crazy!' Debra didn't resist as Stuart propelled her to the centre of the room where the parquet floor had been waxed so the guests could dance. A group of professional musicians had been hired and they were excellent, with a lilt to their playing that Debra recognised.
'That's Georgie Dane,' she breathed, her eyes fixed upon the young man playing the piano.
'Sure is.' Stuart smiled as they moved to the easy rhythm, to the lilting touch of those fingers on the keys. 'I knew he and his group were entertaining at the St Regis in Newquay and I suggested to Zandra that she get them for the party. I'm full of great ideas, eh?'
'If you say so.' Debra felt herself smiling, her annoyance with him dying away. He was good to dance with, and being here with him among the throng of dancers was safer than being within reach of Rodare Salvador. She didn't dare to look in the direction of the windows where he seemed to stand apart from the fun and chatter . . . rather like a monarch amused by his subjects!
'Don't look now,' Stuart murmured in her ear, 'but our haughty host has just been joined by a package I'm sure he'd like to unwrap.'
Debra strove not to look but her curiosity overcame her caution. Her heart gave a thud when she saw that Rodare had been joined by a dazzling young blonde, and that his dark head was bent to her in a listening attitude and he seemed to have lost awareness of the other people in the room.
'Is that Sharon Chandler?' Debra asked, feeling quite certain that the girl in the satin gold dress with the low neckline was the girl whom the Salvadors would welcome into their family with open arms.
'You bet your sweet life it is.' Stuart openly quizzed the girl in gold. 'She looks expensive, which was something poor Pauline couldn't achieve even on Jack's money. That was one of the reasons why the haughty Lenora didn't like her. The landed gentry judge girls not by their nice natures but by their pedigree. Breeding is paramount, then daddy's bank account is taken into consideration, and finally if her riding-seat comes up to standard she has the rosette pinned on her.'
As the Georgie Dane group moved into their version of I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire , Debra was swung breathlessly close to where Rodare was still in deep conversation with Sharon. She caught the deep sound of his voice and saw the girl watching him intently, and it was natural discipline that kept her in step with Stuart.
'You can take it from me,' he went on, 'Lenora didn't like it one little bit when her darling Jack got himself involved with a high-kicking filly from the chorus line. Anyway, it looks as if the hidalgo plans to remedy his half-brother's mistake. Just look at the way that girl is looking up at him!'
'He's so tall that she can hardly help it.' Debra spoke as casually as she was able to, for those two figures superimposed upon the flame-coloured curtains were in every way a foil for each other. The girl was like a golden bloom which the man had plucked for himself, and those beckoning dark eyes of his seemed to be holding her in thrall. If
She stepped forward quickly as Stuart loomed up behind her, and in that instant her gaze fused with that of an even taller figure in matt-black evening suit and striking white shirt. His skin had something naturally gold about it and more than ever he looked as if he had stepped out of a Goya painting. He stood framed by tall embrasured windows draped in flame-coloured curtains . . . black, gold and flame of the Inquisition, striking in Debra a chord of awareness more intense than anything she had ever felt before.
A burning sensation ran over her skin and she had a wild desire to turn and run and not stop running until she was as many miles as she could get from that darkly brilliant gaze . . . compelling as the flame that traps the moth.
'That music is driving my feet crazy!' Debra didn't resist as Stuart propelled her to the centre of the room where the parquet floor had been waxed so the guests could dance. A group of professional musicians had been hired and they were excellent, with a lilt to their playing that Debra recognised.
'That's Georgie Dane,' she breathed, her eyes fixed upon the young man playing the piano.
'Sure is.' Stuart smiled as they moved to the easy rhythm, to the lilting touch of those fingers on the keys. 'I knew he and his group were entertaining at the St Regis in Newquay and I suggested to Zandra that she get them for the party. I'm full of great ideas, eh?'
'If you say so.' Debra felt herself smiling, her annoyance with him dying away. He was good to dance with, and being here with him among the throng of dancers was safer than being within reach of Rodare Salvador. She didn't dare to look in the direction of the windows where he seemed to stand apart from the fun and chatter . . . rather like a monarch amused by his subjects!
'Don't look now,' Stuart murmured in her ear, 'but our haughty host has just been joined by a package I'm sure he'd like to unwrap.'
Debra strove not to look but her curiosity overcame her caution. Her heart gave a thud when she saw that Rodare had been joined by a dazzling young blonde, and that his dark head was bent to her in a listening attitude and he seemed to have lost awareness of the other people in the room.
'Is that Sharon Chandler?' Debra asked, feeling quite certain that the girl in the satin gold dress with the low neckline was the girl whom the Salvadors would welcome into their family with open arms.
'You bet your sweet life it is.' Stuart openly quizzed the girl in gold. 'She looks expensive, which was something poor Pauline couldn't achieve even on Jack's money. That was one of the reasons why the haughty Lenora didn't like her. The landed gentry judge girls not by their nice natures but by their pedigree. Breeding is paramount, then daddy's bank account is taken into consideration, and finally if her riding-seat comes up to standard she has the rosette pinned on her.'
As the Georgie Dane group moved into their version of I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire , Debra was swung breathlessly close to where Rodare was still in deep conversation with Sharon. She caught the deep sound of his voice and saw the girl watching him intently, and it was natural discipline that kept her in step with Stuart.
'You can take it from me,' he went on, 'Lenora didn't like it one little bit when her darling Jack got himself involved with a high-kicking filly from the chorus line. Anyway, it looks as if the hidalgo plans to remedy his half-brother's mistake. Just look at the way that girl is looking up at him!'
'He's so tall that she can hardly help it.' Debra spoke as casually as she was able to, for those two figures superimposed upon the flame-coloured curtains were in every way a foil for each other. The girl was like a golden bloom which the man had plucked for himself, and those beckoning dark eyes of his seemed to be holding her in thrall. If
Similar Books
