Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(34)

“A toast to the loveliest bosom in London!” Lord Bromley, a rakish young ne’er-do-well, exclaimed. Titillated and excited, the crowd raised their glasses with a cheer. Waiters rushed to bring more liquor.

“Miss,” one of them begged, “I entreat you to cast my dice for me.”

“Whatever good luck I have is yours,” she assured him, and shook the dice in the box so vigorously that her br**sts quivered beneath their shallow covering. The temperature in the room escalated rapidly as a host of admiring sighs greeted the display. Derek decided to intervene before the crowd’s mood became too highly charged. Either the vixen didn’t realize the lust she was inciting, or she was doing it deliberately. Either way, he wanted to meet her.

Sara cast the dice and laughed in delight as a triple came up. “House pays thirty to one!” the croupier called, and the group’s roar of appreciation was equaled only by a clamor for the woman to roll the dice again. Before she could say a word, she was neatly plucked out of the crowd by a pair of strong hands.

The protests were quelled immediately as the men recognized that the abductor was Derek Craven himself. Their tempers were mollified as Derek motioned for a bevy of seductive house wenches, who filtered through the group with inviting smiles.

Slowly Sara looked up at her captor’s masked face. “You took me away from the game.”

“You were about to cause a riot in my club.”

“Your club? Then you must be Mr. Craven.” Her red lips curved provocatively. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. How can I make amends?”

He studied her intently. “Come have a walk with me.”

“Is that all? I thought you might make a more daring request.”

“You seem disappointed.”

She shrugged. “With your reputation, Mr. Craven, it’s only reasonable to expect an indecent proposal.”

His mouth quirked with a subtly flirtatious smile…a smile unlike any he had ever given Sara Fielding. “There’s every chance I’ll oblige you.”

She laughed throatily. “There’s a chance I might accept.”

All at once Sara thought she had given herself away. Something in her voice had awakened a spark of recognition. He was staring at her far too intensely. “Who are you?”

Sara tilted her head back to look at him, daring him to guess. “Don’t you know me?”

The hint of a smile disappeared. “I intend to.”

A sense of reality began to pierce the pleasant fog surrounding her. Sara became uneasy, taking a half-step away from him. “It’s possible I arrived with someone,” she said, wishing for the return of her earlier recklessness. She needed another drink.

“You’re not leaving with him.”

“What if I’m married?”

“You still won’t leave with him.”

Sara laughed and feigned alarm. “I’ve been warned about men like you.”

He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I hope you didn’t listen.” His lips brushed the sensitive curve of her jaw. Sara closed her eyes while a nerveless quivering took over her body. She tried to summon the strength to pull away from him, but instead she stood against him docilely, as if she had no will of her own. There was the delicate catch of his teeth against her earlobe, and the low murmur of his voice. “Come with me.”

She couldn’t. Her knees were too weak. But somehow she allowed him to lead her to the next room, into the midst of the whirling couples. His supportive arm slid around her, and his vital grip enclosed her hand. So this was what it felt like to be held far too closely, to have a man stare at her with desire in his eyes. “You’ve never been here before,” he said.

“You’re wrong.”

He shook his head. “I’d have remembered you.”

“Actually,” she said in a hushed voice, “I’m not here now. This isn’t happening at all. You’re just visiting a dream of mine.”

“Am I?” He bent his head, his smiling mouth very close to hers. His breath was warm against her lips. “Then don’t wake up, angel. I’d like to stay awhile.”

Chapter 5

Derek Craven’s arm was firm around Sara’s waist as they whirled in an effortless waltz. He seemed to savor her tipsy playfulness. He flirted shamelessly with her, and pointed out the envious gazes of other men, and made Sara laugh by accusing her of collecting men’s hearts as her playthings. When the waltz ended and a quadrille began, they drew to the edge of the room and accepted drinks brought by a passing waiter. As Sara watched the pattern of the dance, she stood close to Craven, swaying until their shoulders brushed. He grinned and slid an arm around her waist to steady her. Cheerfully Sara drifted back toward the skipping couples, attracted by the music.

Derek pulled her back deftly. “Not a quadrille. You’re not quite steady on your feet, angel.”

“Angel?” Sara repeated, resting back against him. Unladylike behavior, yes, but in the cheerful revelry of the ball, no one noticed or cared. “Do you give names to all your women?”

“I don’t have any women.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said with a giggle, leaning harder against his solid chest. Lightly his hands cupped her elbows, preserving her balance.

“Tell me your name,” he said.