Part 5 (1/2)
”Who is it?” She stood on her tiptoes. ”Is she lovely? Tell me who she is and I'll ask Sir Henry to introduce you.”
”Nyet. I have been waiting for Viscount Strathmoor. Though he is of good birth, even you would not wish me to marry him, for he is very short and has the devil of a temper. Now excuse me. And no more matchmaking, please. It is wearing.” He kissed her hand and then left, ignoring her frown as he made his way across the room to Strath.
Alexsey had known the viscount for more than ten years. Strath's sharp wit always made him laugh, and if there was one thing he could use right now, it was a laugh.
Aware he was being surveyed from head to foot by every woman present as he crossed the room, Alexsey eyed them all back. They stared, measured, and-sadly for them-hoped. There were several beauties among them, but none possessed anything that tantalized him. His Roza would outs.h.i.+ne them all.
He'd liked that she was innocent and exotic at the same time, curved and welcoming. A man could sink into bed with such a woman and not rise for a week. He suspected she possessed the same innate natural pa.s.sion as the Romany. Perhaps it was that which had drawn him to the beauty in the woods?
”I cannot believe it.” Strathmoor stood before Alexsey, a gla.s.s in each hand. ”All these beauties parading by, and you're making no effort to speak to a one. Are you ill, brother?”
Alexsey gladly accepted the proffered gla.s.s from his friend. Small and quick like a sparrow, Strath made up for his lack of height with his humorous outlook and generous spirit. Alexsey took a sip of the drink he'd been handed. ”What ambrosia is this?”
”Good Scottish whiskey-a rich peaty one that you'll like. It's better than the sweet stuff my uncle favors.” Strath shuddered. ”Pale and weak. I'd rather drink water.”
Alexsey took another drink. ”Excellent.” Strath was a fine fellow. They had come to know one another when the viscount had visited the Italian court during his Grand Tour while Alexsey was the emissary from Oxenburg. The position was a lightweight training mission, and with no real duties he'd been bored out of his mind until Strath, with his ready laugh and his thirst for adventure, had arrived.
Strath and Alexsey had spent three glorious months drinking and carousing, enjoying the lazy Italian sun and beautiful women. Since then, they'd maintained a sporadic correspondence and visited one another every year or so.
”I'm glad you're here,” Alexsey said, taking an appreciative sip.
”You should be. I came only because my uncle mentioned a few weeks ago that you and your grandmother were joining him here. The second I found out, I closed up my town house, packed my bags, and voil, here I am.”
”I a.s.sume you were alone in that town house, or nothing could have pried you away.”
Strath sighed woefully. ”It's true I am between mistresses.”
”As am I.” Alexsey swirled the amber liquid in his gla.s.s. ”This whiskey is excellent; I need some of this for my private stock. Is that possible?”
”Of course. Tell me how much you want, and I'll have it delivered before you leave.”
”You are a good friend.”
Strath lifted his gla.s.s. ”As are you. I hope you didn't mind my a.s.sumption that you needed a drink, but I saw you talking to your grandmother, and you looked as if you'd like to throttle her.”
”Indeed. She is determined that I wed-and soon.”
”But now you have escaped and you are here, a drink in your hand, surrounded by a bevy of lovelies and no wedding in sight. I call that perfection.”
Alexsey shrugged.
Strath sighed. ”Let me guess: you are still pining for your forest maiden.”
”I'm not pining, but I've yet to see any woman who would match her.” He sent a sour look at Strath. ”I'd hoped you might know some of the local households who might possess such a maid, but you were next to useless.”
”I can count on one hand the number of times I've been this far north. We should have asked my uncle for his help in identifying your mysterious beauty. Uncle Henry was quite the rakeh.e.l.l in his day and I'm sure he would have understood your impatience to find her.”
”Of course he was a rakeh.e.l.l; he wouldn't know my grandmother, otherwise.” Alexsey looked over his gla.s.s to where Sir Henry was now talking to Tata Natasha. Plotting, more like. Sir Henry was tall, with broad shoulders and a head of distinguished white hair. He carried a bit of a paunch from years of good living, but it was easy to see that at one time, he must have been an impressive specimen.
There was something about the way the man looked at Tata Natasha, almost as if . . . Hmmm. ”I believe there's a history between my grandmother and your uncle.”
Strath's gaze followed Alexsey's. ”It's possible; they are close in age.”
”I doubt Tata Natasha cares for age. Over the years, she's become far more concerned with pedigree.”
”Yet she was once a Gypsy, true?”
”She still is. And, as she's quick to point out, she is the queen of the Gypsies. If you ever wish to see Tata Natasha angry-and you don't-then suggest otherwise.”
A lady danced by, peeking over her partner's shoulder at them. Strath wagged his eyebrows at her. She was a rather faded-looking woman with pale skin and watery blue eyes, her red hair the only colorful thing about her. ”That's Miss MacGregor,” Strath confided in a low voice. ”The things she can do with that mouth . . . Lovely! I would dance with her, but I fear she might fall desperately in love with me. Women meet me and instantly offer their hearts. It's a burden I bear.”
”How difficult for you,” Alexsey said drily. ”I prefer it when there are no hearts involved, only willing bodies.”
Strath chuckled. ”According to what your grandmother has told my uncle, that is the Romany way.”
”My grandmother also thinks her potions can turn princes into frogs.”
Strath's smile faded. ”Frogs? Are you teasing?”
”Sadly, no.” Alexsey swirled the remaining scotch in his gla.s.s. ”Your Miss MacGregor has left her partner and is now trying to make her way through the crowd toward us.”
Strath brightened as he put down his gla.s.s and smoothed his coat. ”Is she, indeed? I must answer the call, then. If you'll excuse me?”
”Of course. After I finish tasting your whiskey, I believe I will retire to my room.”
Strath blinked. ”But . . . you're the guest of honor! My uncle will not be happy if you retire too soon.”
Alexsey hid a grimace. There were times when being a prince was onerous. The second people knew it, they instantly a.s.sumed certain things. If they were parents of an eligible maiden, they a.s.sumed he possessed a wealth that few princes could. If they happened to be eligible young women, they a.s.sumed a romantic bent to his character usually involving white horses and flowing red capes, neither of which he possessed. And if they were hosts or hostesses, they believed he not only enjoyed being their guest of honor, but would be offended if they did not make him so. ”I dislike being a guest of honor.”
”But sadly, you're a prince, and as a prince . . .” Strath shrugged.
”I will stay until midnight but no more. I was up with the birds this morning. I visited the place I met my maid, thinking perhaps she would be there at an earlier hour.”
”I take it she was not. She seems oddly determined not to be found. As much as it may hurt you to hear this, I can't help but think perhaps you should find someone else to amuse you. But who?” As he spoke, Strath rose on his tiptoes, looking over the crowd to check Miss MacGregor's progress.
”None of these women interests me.”
”Then you have not looked hard enough. All women are beautiful, you know.” He frowned. ”Blast it, Miss MacGregor has been waylaid by Lord Dunn. I shall have to wait for her to break free.”
”She will arrive anon. And I must disagree with your belief that all women are beautiful.” Alexsey looked about the ballroom. ”What about her?” He nodded toward a small, rather wispy-looking female with mousy brown hair and a receding chin.
Strath eyed her for a moment, and then said, ”Her skin is like cream. She would glow by candlelight. Her figure is lovely, too. Lying down, you'd never notice she's a bit short. Spread across a coverlet, her hair about her, candlelight caressing her creamy skin-you would not be able to keep your hands to yourself.”
”Hmm.” He inclined his head toward another woman, a rail-thin blonde with an overly large nose. ”And her?”
”That hair, unbound, would reach her waist. I'd wager my last groat it's soft as silk and would brush over your bare skin until you were eager for her touch. And note, too, her mouth. It's wide, pa.s.sionate, and as warm as-” Strath sighed. ”You can see her beauty now, eh?”
”Indeed. An intriguing way to view the world, my friend.”
”Sadly, I am not a handsome man. I'm neither tall nor das.h.i.+ng. My t.i.tle is negligible and I have no fortune to speak of. So how can I expect perfection when I have so little to offer myself?”