Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(24)

“I’ll show you how they’ve decorated the hazard room.”

“Thank you. That would be delightful.” She followed without hesitation. “I’m looking forward to the ball tonight. We certainly have nothing to compare in Greenwood Corners.”

“If you want to watch, you’ll get a fair view from the second-floor balcony behind the musicians.”

Sara didn’t think that would provide a very good view at all. “I don’t think I’ll be noticed if I stand in a corner of the hall—”

“No. That won’t work.”

“Then I’ll borrow a mask from someone, and come downstairs for a closer look.”

“You don’t have a suitable gown, mouse.”

Mouse…Oh, how she disliked the nickname he had bestowed on her! But he was right. Sara glanced down at her heavy plum-colored gown and flushed. “I might have something,” she said bravely.

Derek gave her a derisive glance but let her comment pass unchallenged. “Only the demimonde will attend tonight. The more debauched variety of aristocrats and foreigners, whores, actresses—”

“But those are precisely the kind of people I wish to write about!”

“You’re no match for a crowd of randy bucks. They’ll be drunk and ready for action, and they’ll assume you’re here for one reason. Unless you’re prepared to oblige them, you’ll stay upstairs where it’s safe.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You’re not coming to the ball tonight, Miss Fielding.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re forbidding me to attend?”

“I’m advising you not to,” he murmured in a tone that would have caused Napoleon to quail.

They entered the central hazard room, and Sara temporarily abandoned their argument. She’d never seen a place decorated so extravagantly. It was like a glittering underwater kingdom, reminding her of the tales of Atlantis that had enchanted her as a child. The walls were hung with gauzy blue and green silk draperies. A painted canvas studded with seashells gave the impression of a castle beneath the sea. Slowly she wandered around the room, inspecting the plaster sculptures of fish, scallop shells, and bare-breasted mermaids. A gaudy treasure chest filled with paste jewels was wedged beneath the central hazard table. The doorway to the next room had been converted into the hull of a sunken ship. Lengths of blue gauze and silver netting were hung overhead, making it seem as if they were under water.

“How extraordinary,” she said. “It’s beautiful, imaginative…” She turned a slow circle. “And when all the guests are here, the women in glittering gowns, everyone wearing masks…” A feeling of wistfulness swept over her. She smiled tremulously, lifting one of the silken banners and letting it stream through her fingers. “I’ve never attended a ball before. Country dances, of course, and the local festivals…” The silk caught in the sudden vise of her fingers. She was lost in her thoughts, forgetting the presence of the man who watched her.

All of her life she had been quiet and responsible, living vicariously through the experiences of others. It had been enough to content herself with family and friends, and to write. But now she regretted the things she had missed. She had never made a mistake more serious than forgetting to return a borrowed book. Her sexual experience had been limited to Perry’s kisses. She had never worn a gown cut low enough to show her bosom, or danced until dawn. She’d never really been intoxicated. Except for Perry, the men she had grown up with in the village had always regarded her as a sister and confidante. Other women inspired passion and heartbreak. She inspired friendship.

Once when she had been overtaken by a mood similiar to this, she had thrown herself at Perry. Filled with a desperate need to be close to someone, she had begged him to make love to her. Perry had refused, pointing out that she was not the kind of woman to be taken out of wedlock. “We’ll be married someday,” he had explained with a loving smile. “As soon as I can make my mother accept the idea. It won’t take long—and in the meantime, you and I will pray for patience. You mean more to me than a hour or two of illicit pleasure.” Perry had been right, of course. She had even admired his concern for doing the right thing…but that had done little to ease the sting of rejection. Wincing at the memory, Sara let go of the silken banner and turned to face Craven. He was watching her with the intense stare that always made her uneasy.

“What is it?” He reached out and took her arm, his fingers resting lightly on her sleeve. “What are you thinking about?”

Sara was very still, feeling the warmth of his hand sinking through the heavy material of her gown. He mustn’t stand so close…he mustn’t look at her this way. She had never been so aware of anyone in her life. A mad notion crossed her mind, that he was about to take her into his arms. Briefly the image of Perry Kingswood’s reproachful face floated before her. But if Craven did try to take a liberty…no one would ever know. Soon she would walk away from him forever, back to her ordinary life in the country.

Just once let something happen to her. Something she would remember all her life.

“Mr. Craven.” Her heart rose in her throat, threatening to obstruct her voice. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind helping me with my research. There is something you could do for me.” She took a deep breath and continued in a rush. “Living in Greenwood Corners, one tends to have rather limited experience. Certainly I’ve never encountered a man like you, and never expect to again.”