Sexy As Hell

are you from?” He hadn’t seen her before, and if she was indeed a countess, he would have met her-and more to the point, wouldn’t have forgotten so splendid a woman. She had the face of an enchantress-sensual blue eyes dark with storm clouds, a fine straight nose, soft, cherry red lips that fairly begged to be kissed, and a stubborn little chin that was infinitely fascinating to a man who knew far too many willing females. A glorious halo of pale hair framed her features, and even with their brief bodily contact, her voluptuousness was conspicuous.

“I have no intention of being your friend, nor need you know where I’m from.” She must extricate herself from this unexpected and potentially disastrous predicament-and quickly. Her plans didn’t include someone who might talk out of turn. Everything depended on a nameless lover who couldn’t be found and cross-examined.

“Then perhaps,” Oz drawled, “I should tell Mr. Malmsey that I don’t choose to cooperate with this scheme and if he persists I’ll sue him for every penny he has.”

“You’re the one who barged in,” she argued, more calmly now. This man would eventually name his price; everyone did.

“And you were the one who said I was late.” His lazy smile was full of grace. “Surely I’d have been remiss to keep a lady waiting.”

“How very smooth you are. But impertinent, sir.”

“While you’re quite beautiful,” he softly countered. “Although I expect you already know that. Tell me, is this little drama perpetrated to give your husband cause for divorce? If so, I don’t understand why your lover is willing to expose you to all the prurient interest and scandal on your own. Where’s the scoundrel’s backbone?”

“So you would assume responsibility if your lover were exposed in court?”

“Certainly. Any honorable man would.”

“Why then would an honorable man toy with another man’s wife?”

Oz’s dark brows shot up. “You can’t be serious. Or perhaps you live in a cave. Although, if you do,” he cheekily murmured, surveying the portion of her nightgown visible above the covers, “you have a fashionable modiste in there with you. That’s quality silk you’re wearing.” Anyone in the India trade knew silk.

“Who are you?” she asked, suddenly curious about a man acquainted with grades of silk.

Perhaps she did live in a cave; he was well-known for a variety of reasons, some of them actually acceptable. “You tell me first.”

She watched him drain the rest of his drink, wondered in passing why her alarm had seemingly disappeared, and wondered as well where he came from with his deeply bronzed skin. “Are you drunk?” Would he remember any of this? How much should she divulge? And how honorable would he be if she related her tale?

He hesitated a fraction of a second. “I’m probably not completely sober.”

“Are you dangerous?” Even as she spoke, she realized how useless the question if indeed he was.

He shot her a look. “To you? Hardly.”

“I’m relieved.”

He smiled. “I’m relieved you’re relieved. Now tell me your name.”

“Isolde Perceval.”

“From where-the ends of the earth? I haven’t seen you in society.”

“I avoid society.”

“Apparently.” He dipped his head. “Osmond Lennox. Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”

“Now that the courtesies have been observed,” she said, “kindly tell me what you want, so we may end this charade and go our separate ways.”

“You.”

Her eyes flared wide. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” There, certainty-his plans no longer moot-although wealthy noblemen were as a rule unrestrained in their whims. “Think of it as recompense,” he said with a small smile, “for the shock to my system. When your witnesses barged in I thought someone was seeking vengeance for my many sins. Or about to horsewhip me.”

“Well, no one was seeking revenge. You’re quite unharmed. And what you ask is naturally out of the question.”

“Surely you can’t claim to be a virgin.”

“I hardly think that’s any of your business.”

“You’re right of course,” he drawled. Although, if she’d been a virgin, she would have been quick to say so. Also, a divorce case with witnesses was about adultery. She couldn’t possibly be a virgin. “Since you prefer not discussing virginity, at least explain how you plan to use your obviously hired witnesses?”

She chewed on her bottom lip.

“While you’re deciding on your reply, excuse me while I get myself another drink. It’s been a very odd night”-he grinned-“at least so far.”

She should have averted her eyes, but she couldn’t help watching him as he walked away from the bed in all his nude splendor. Not that she’d ever been overly concerned with the shibboleths of society. Truth be told, he was quite beautiful in face and form-with an unmistakable brute virility beneath his charming manner. He’d threatened to shoot poor Malmsey and seemed quite capable of doing so. She’d have to pay her barrister an extra premium for that fearsome threat.

As he returned to the bed with his refilled glass, Oz was pleased to see that the lady was no longer clutching the bedclothes to her bosom. “Now,” he began pleasantly, taking his place beside her once again, “I think I deserve some minimum explanation.” He held her gaze for a moment. “Particularly if this goes to court and I happen to be involved.”

“It shouldn’t go to court.”

“Shouldn’t or won’t?”

She made a small moue. Frederick had threatened a breach of promise suit among other extortion demands.

“That’s what I thought. So is this about your marriage?”

“No.”

He shot her a sharp look. “No?”

“I’m not married.”

“But you were.” She’d been designated a countess by the barrister.

“No.”

He softly sighed. “I’m not leaving until I know what’s going on, so you might as well tell me. I can stay here as long as Fremont keeps bringing up liquor.”

“You know the proprietor?”

“Yes, Mrs. Smith,” he replied cheekily.

“He shouldn’t have disclosed that.”

“I pay him well.”

“For his silence about your assignations.”

He nodded.

“So you’re a lothario,” she said with distaste.

“No, I’m a man. Now-an explanation.”

His voice had taken on an edge.

“Very well, if you must know-”

“I must,” he brusquely interposed.

“Then I’ll tell you. I’m a countess in my own right, but as you know in situations such as mine, I simply hold the title as steward for the next male in line to inherit should I die childless. In my case, a cousin has decided he doesn’t wish to wait-I might outlive him, you see, or marry and have children. So he intends to marry me to gain access to my funds.”

“What of a marriage settlement?” They were written to protect family fortunes.

“First, I loathe my cousin and wouldn’t marry him if he was the last man on the face of the earth. Secondly, Frederick’s pursuit has been persistent and very determined since his gambling losses have mounted. I expect coercion would be involved with a marriage settlement. He’s completely unscrupulous.”

“Have you no one to protect you?”