Susan Carroll by The Painted Veil

presence in her thoughts, something dark, wild, and
threatening to her peace of mind.
    Resisting the urge to whip the purse behind
her back, Anne said with what dignity she could muster, “Thank you,
my lord, but now—”
    “Now that I have performed this trifling
service, you wish to send me to the devil. That would be a great
pity, with you looking so lovely tonight.”
    Anne shied as skittishly as a high-strung
colt when Mandell reached out to touch the curve of her cheek. “I
like what you have done with your hair,” he murmured. “The softer
style becomes you. As does the cut of the gown.”
    His gaze lowered to her décolletage. Lily had
selected the design of the dress. Anne had said all along she
feared the gown was too revealing. Under Mandell's bold eyes, she
was sure of it. He added, “The effect would be even more enchanting
in a garden by moonlight.”
    Anne's cheeks fired. How could he be so
shameless as to remind her of their last encounter?
    “I have nothing to say to you,” she remarked.
“If you have come to apologize, I would prefer you just sent round
a note.”
    “I would be happy to send you notes, flowers,
anything else you desire, Sorrow. But what would you have me
apologize for?”
    Anne's gaze came uncomfortably to rest upon
the outline of that sensual mouth. “You know full well!”
    “Ah, that! You expect me to express my
gentlemanly regrets for kissing you. That would be both rude and
untruthful.” He captured her hand. Holding her eyes with his own,
he raised her fingertips to his lips. “I fear I cannot say that I
am sorry. Do you really want me to?”
    “I—I,” Anne faltered. It was so easy for him
to fluster and confuse her. The contact of his mouth against her
hand was fleeting, but enough to send a shiver of heat coursing
through her. “I just want you to go away.”
    Mandell released her hand, his eyes
narrowing. “Why do I get the feeling that I am more than usually
unwelcome? Are you worried I will frighten away your other
admirers?”
    “I don't have any admirers.”
    “That's where you are quite mistaken, my
dear.” He cupped her chin, forcing her to look up. Her breath
snagged in her throat. She thought he would be bold enough to kiss
her again, here in the theatre where anyone below in the pit might
see. For a moment, she had difficulty remembering she had vowed
never to let this man come near her again.
    Somewhat unsteadily, she put his hand away
from her. “Please stop teasing me. By now you must be quite aware
that I don't know how to flirt. You must have laughed yourself nigh
ill at the way I bolted from the garden like a frightened rabbit.”
She could not prevent the tiny catch in her voice, the hurt and
humiliation still so fresh in her mind.
    “Nay, Sorrow. I had not the least inclination
to laugh. The garden was a cold and lonely place after you had
gone.” Mandell's words were as warm as a caress. Anne had never
known any man so practiced in the art of seduction. He constantly
made her feel as though the ground were about to shift beneath her
feet.
    She frowned. “Then I don't understand. If not
for your own amusement, why do you keep seeking me out? What is it
that you want?”
    “You.”
    The low spoken syllable sent a jolt through
her entire system. All her anxieties over the desperate scheme to
get Norrie back were driven clean out of her head. Anne did not
remember bending her knees to sit, but she sagged down upon her
chair. She barely managed to keep her grip on the purse, burying it
in the folds of her gown.
    “Are you cold?” Mandell asked.
    Anne watched him retrieve her cashmere shawl
from where it had tumbled to the floor. He draped the soft folds
about her, his hands lingering on her shoulders.
    Still in shock, Anne was certain she could
not have heard him right.
    At last she echoed doubtfully, “You want me?
For what?”
    His eyes widened in genuine surprise. Then a
smoky heat drifted into his gaze. His lashes drifted downward,