Chapter Two

" H ave I got a story for you, Darling!" Anthony exclaimed as he sank into a chair at his gentlemen's club. His friend, Quincy Darling, stirred from what was obviously a nasty hangover and gave Anthony a bilious look. "Come, come, man. Wake up," Anthony insisted, handing the man a glass of brandy. "I'm in need of your advice."

Darling pushed himself up in his chair and accepted the alcohol, downing it in one gulp. "Stirling, you ass," he said. "What time is it?"

"It's nearing noon," Anthony answered impatiently.

His friend closed his eyes with a petulant snort. "Then it is nearly three hours too early for you to be speaking to me."

Anthony continued, unfazed. "I've met a woman."

"Nothing new," Darling answered.

"I don't know who she is and I need your inestimable social knowledge to ferret her out." Anthony pushed his own glass of brandy into his friend's hand. "Wake up, help me figure out who she is, and then I'll let you sleep it off."

"I don't see what's so damned urgent about it," Darling growled.

Anthony paused for a moment, then he said the one detail of interest in his story that could possibly rouse his friend. "She bit me."

Darling opened his eyes. "She what?" he exclaimed.

"She bit me. Here." Anthony pulled his lower lip down with his forefinger to reveal the minute teeth marks inside it.

His friend squinted at the swollen lip and chuckled. "She bit you and you don't even know her name?"

"Our acquaintance was… brief." Anthony raised an eyebrow tellingly.

"Very well." Darling made a show of sighing, but the twinkle in his eyes belied his interest. "You've sufficiently intrigued me. Describe your vixen."

"Well," Anthony began, "She is tall, up to here." He motioned to his nose, and his friend raised his eyebrows in surprise, as the height Anthony had indicated was unusually tall for a woman. "Titian hair, simply styled. Pale skin. Some freckles. Generous bosom. The rest of her is lean though, almost unfeminine. Except for her backside," he added with a sly grin, "which is magnificently feminine."

"And where did you meet this mysterious Amazon?" Darling asked.

"Lady Spencer's ball last night."

"Sadly, I was not in attendance," Darling said. "A certain young widow required my comforting presence."

Anthony ignored him. "But do you know anyone of that description?"

"I should say not," Darling frowned. "She certainly sounds like a striking presence, not someone I would easily forget. You should have got her name, Stirling. That was damn foolish of you."

Anthony grimaced. How could he explain to an equally notorious rake that this woman had rendered him incapable of speech? Incapable, for a few seconds of pure bliss, of anything other than reveling in the kiss she'd given him?

No woman had ever taken his breath away before. He prided himself on keeping his head in the bedroom. Perhaps it was the wine, not her. Perhaps in that state of intoxication any woman would have rendered him helpless. But he knew that was a lie. He'd bedded woman before with much more than six glasses of wine in him and he'd maintained control over his thoughts and actions. It was something about this woman in particular that had made him feel momentarily like one of his own conquests. And you liked it, you little traitor , he told his heart as it raced at the memory of her body pressed against his. I always knew I couldn't trust you.

"Stirling? Anthony?" his friend's words shook him out of his reverie. "What are your intentions for your little biter?"

What were his intentions? To seduce her the way she had seduced him, so quickly and completely. To toss her onto a bed and tear off her dress. Make her melt under his caresses as she had failed to do on the library balcony. Bury his face between her breasts, and his cock between her legs. To make her senseless with a desire that would eclipse the desire he felt for her. And to make her taste the fulfillment and satisfaction she had denied him when she ran from him last night, whether she wanted it or not. To claim back his initiative from her, make him the conqueror again. Make sure she knew that the pleasurable torture she'd inflicted on him he could give her back again tenfold.

He flashed a wicked smile at Darling. "I'm sure you can guess."

Darling chuckled. "Well, I hope for the poor vixen's sake you don't find her, then. But if you do have your mind set on her, why not try the Renfield salon this evening, or Harrington's ball in two days? If she was invited to Lady Spencer's, she'll certainly be in attendance there. And then you can exact your revenge. Though," he said, and his eyes twinkled with aggressive mirth, "based upon your previous encounter, she might enjoy whatever debauches you have planned for her."

"I hope she does, Darling," Anthony replied, "or it will be a decidedly unpleasant evening for her."