One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(34)

Lucy's late husband had fanatically toured the continent to gather a collection that was the envy of every museum in Town. Jane lingered, drifting among the various pieces, studying the magnificent array as she did on almost every visit, grateful at least that the singing had eased to a soft croon on the air that no longer made her throat thicken.

She stopped before a white marbled bust of the god Anteros, the avenger of unrequited love, and her thoughts drifted to Seth.

She had been a fool to think one taste would be enough. That she could forget Seth and move on now, content with having had her time with him, however brief.

She wanted more. She wanted him. Not just once but over and over again. Sighing, she rubbed her fingertips over her forehead. The heart was a greedy beast. Always wanting more than it should.

"No taste for opera?" came a voice behind her.

Jane whirled around, her hip nudging the pedestal upon which the bust sat. Heart in her throat, her hands shot out to steady the piece, her panic subsiding as Anteros stilled. Chuckling, Seth advanced, his long limbs moving loose and powerful as a jungle cat. "That would have been a mess."

Nodding mutely, she eased her hands from the pedestal and inched back until well clear of it and any other object of value, not trusting herself to be conscious of anything when he was in the vicinity and all her attention centered on him.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people."

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest in a way that made his shoulders and jacket strain against his jacket.

She frowned as realization sunk in. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited."

"By whom?" she demanded, unable to believe Lucy would have invited him without telling her. His grin broadened. "Lady Shillington, of course."

Lucy invited him? And forgot to mention it? Suspicion settled along her shoulders. He continued, "I thought my sister might enjoy a small gathering such as this."

"Your sister is here?"

"Yes. Were you not of the opinion that I should allow my sister out in Society?" She blinked. "Yes. Only I did not think my opinions bore much weight." Instead of responding, he glanced about the room, his eyes skimming the various pieces.

"Impressive collection."

She nodded.

"Enough to draw someone away from the evening's entertainment, I suppose." His gaze fell on her. "The haste in which you left, one would think you have an aversion to opera, Lady Jane."

"Not at all."

"Hmm." He drew closer, his steps clicking sharply over the mosaic. She skirted a statute of Aphrodite and he followed, his stride lazy, hands clasped behind his back as though he strolled the park—as though he did not stalk her.

"And what of Billings?" he queried, all mildness. "Did he have no wish to attend tonight?"

"My brother-in-law and his wife had other plans." Not that Lucy would have invited them.

"And they have no objections to your attending?" he pressed, his eyes glinting knowingly.

"Billings seemed most determined for you to remain in mourning." Jane inhaled deeply. "And I am most determined to live my life as I please. I am no green debutante to be led about by my nose. My family does not control my actions. I'm a free woman to come and go as I please. To do as I please."

"Indeed," he drawled, sliding to stop directly before her. Her head fell back to lock with his molten eyes. "And do you?" His voice glided through her like a shot of spiced rum, settling in her belly in a burst of heat. "Do as you please?"

For a moment, the sensation of his hard maleness driving into her washed through her, rippling over her skin and transporting her to a moonlit garden where he breathed Aurora against her ear. Throat dry, she could only nod.

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice soft and taunting as he encroached closer, forcing her against a tapestry-lined wall. The tapestry felt scratchy at her back.

Even without looking, she knew the scene well, had studied Zeus's ravishment of Leda in secret, rapt fascination. In her mind she could see the swan alighting down from the sky upon Leda, the woman's lovely face an odd mixture of horror and rapture.

A deep tug pulled on her belly as Seth hands closed on either side of her head. Trapped between his body and the tapestry-covered wall, she stared into his stark gaze, trying to read his thoughts, feeling somewhat like the prey Leda must have felt.

Faintly, the contralto's voice grew, winding its way into the room, vibrating through the heavy silence of the chamber.

Jane succumbed to temptation and brought her hands up to play with the cravat at his neck.

"I'm no schoolroom miss anymore," she murmured, enjoying the words the moment she said them, enjoying herself the moment she decided a little bit of wickedness wouldn't hurt. "I do a good many things I shouldn't do…"

"You?" he queried.

"You don't believe me?" she asked in offended tones, imagining his reaction if he knew she was the woman he made savage love to against a tree at Vauxhall.

"No," he asserted. "You're much too proper."

Moistening her lips in determination, she commanded, "Close your eyes." His eyes glowed down at her, wide and unblinking, mouth curving in mockery.

"Close your eyes," she repeated, determined to wipe the mockery from his face. After a moment's hesitation, he complied.