Dangerous Obsession Page 11

  “Villain!” I gasped when he released me. I swung at him again with my closed fist, but he laughingly intercepted the blow and held both hands under his chin.

  The orchestra struck up a mazurka and Monsieur Delacroix came over to dance with me. “Oh, good evening, Monsieur Garrett. I would like, ah, to claim the Countess—”

  Seth let me go. I rubbed my wrists and glared at him. “Oh, hello, Pierre,” he said. “I was just greeting the Countess. We met in Russia a while ago and she was justifiably annoyed because I didn’t recognize her.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” Pierre Delacroix crooked his arm at me, and I slid my hand under his elbow. As he led me away to the dance floor I saw Madame Odette slump down in her chair and cover her face with her gloved hands: I could still hear Seth Garrett chuckling.

  I could feel his eyes on me as Delacroix and I skipped around the floor together. Watching, grinning, winking at me. I was careful, whenever my head was turned in his direction, to let my eyes sweep over him as if he weren’t even there. When the mazurka ended. Monsieur Delacroix led me to the punch table. Martin de Vernay, the young duke, joined us. But even as I talked and laughed with them, I could feel Seth Garrett lurking and looking, just a few feet away.

  A new partner came to claim me for the cotillion. Seth did not dance. He just stood on the sidelines, talking and laughing and drinking champagne while women swarmed around him like flies crowding in on a piece of dead meat. For some reason the sight annoyed me.

  After the cotillion, I led my partner to the side of the room where Madame Odette had been sitting. Her chair was empty. I looked around but could not see her anywhere.

  “She told me to tell you that she was feeling ill.” Seth Garrett materialized at my elbow. “She said you weren’t to worry about her and that you must have a good time. She’s upstairs, resting, I think.”

  I started to speak but I bit my lip. “Jean,” I said to my partner, "I am very thirsty. Would you bring me a glass of punch, please?”

  Obediently the young man ran off to fetch some punch. “Will you please stop following me?” I hissed at Seth when we were alone. ‘‘Stop watching me!”

  “I can’t help myself,” he said, blue eyes flashing. “I can’t seem to take my eyes off you.”

  “Liar. Go away. Leave me alone!”

  “No. Will you forgive me for being an uncivilized boor, Countess? I couldn't help it. You quite took my breath away.”

  “I will not forgive you,” I said coldly. “And stop calling me Countess. You know very well that I am no Countess.”

  “I won’t spoil your little game, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assured me. “You can call yourself the Czarina for all I care. Forgive me?”

  “No. Never. You were very rude. You insulted me! You—you didn’t even recognize me!”

  “Of course not!” he laughed. Then he said warmly, “You are the most beautiful woman in Paris tonight, Rhawnie. Not a bit like the scrawny little urchin I brought back from Russia. Your own Gypsies wouldn’t know you now.”

  I gave a little start. “That is true,” I said slowly. “They wouldn’t.”

  “Countess Rhawnie.” Seth took a formal stance in front of me and lowered his eyes penitently. “I have been a brute and a lout. I beg you to forgive my bad manners. I assure you, it was only shock and amazement that made me act as I did. Will you forgive me? I could not live, knowing that by a momentary slip I had earned your enmity forever.”

  I felt a smile lurking at the corners of my mouth and I tried vainly to suppress it. “Oh, don’t be an ass,” I said brusquely. “I forgive you.”

  You’ll note I didn’t apologize for kissing you,” he said. “And I don’t intend to.”

  I shrugged. “Then you will have that on your conscience forever,” I said. “I wouldn’t forgive you anyway, for kissing me like that.”

  “And how would you like to be kissed?” he inquired politely.

  “Stop teasing me,” I said impatiently, lowering my eyes.

  “Of course.” He bowed and said in a different voice, “Forgive me again for what must have seemed the grossest insult. Countess. I hope what happened will in no way blight your enjoyment of the ball.” Then he walked away, tapping his cane lightly on the floor.

  “Well!” I stared after him, nonplussed. The change in his attitude had been so sudden, as though he had tired of the game we were playing and wanted to do something else. I swallowed my disappointment.

  Jean returned with my punch, and a few minutes later a pallid, beardless youth appeared to claim my hand for the first waltz of the evening. I whirled away in his arms, feeling that the fun had gone out of the evening for me. I searched for Seth in the crowd but I did not see him. He certainly wasn’t watching me any more. Then I saw him, standing in a quiet, palm-shaded corner away from the orchestra, talking and laughing with Simone Gallier. I stopped dancing abruptly.

  “What is the matter, Countess?” my partner asked anxiously. “Is something wrong?”

  “I think I have hurt my foot,” I said. “I would like to sit down for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

  His eyes filled with concern. He led me to a chair and ran off to get me something to drink. As soon as he was out of sight, I jumped up and made my way across the room to Seth’s corner. Simone saw me approaching, and she glared at me and rested her hand possessively on Seth’s forearm.

  “Good evening. Monsieur Seth,” I said brightly. “It appears that my partner for this waltz has hurt his foot and cannot continue. Will you finish this dance with me?” Simone laughed and said, “You will be disappointed, Madamoiselle Gypsy. Monsieur Garrett does not dance. He has never even danced with me!”

  “I can understand that, Madamoiselle,” I said seriously. “I have watched you dance.”

  Simone’s eyes narrowed and she fanned herself. “You can’t fool me, Gypsy. Odette thinks she can pull the wool over the eyes of every man in Paris, but just wait until I’ve told what I know!"

  “And what do you know, Madamoiselle? We have said nothing that is not true. I really am the granddaughter of a Russian count, as Madame says. Monsieur Seth here can attest to that. Besides, I do not think that all the men in Paris are interested in what you have to say.”

  “My dear Countess,” Seth said before Simone could respond, “I would be delighted to dance with you. Will you excuse us, Simone? And would you mind holding this for me?” He handed her his gold-headed can and bowed to me. “Countess?”

  We whirled away together. “If this is painful for you, you must stop,” I said.

  “It’s no more painful than standing,” he said. “And if my leg bothers me, I know someone in Paris who can fix it.” His smile would have melted ice. He lowered his voice and said, “Did you miss me, Rhawnie?”

  I cocked my head. “No,” I said bluntly, “I did not even think of you. And you did not think about me, either, or you would have come to Madame Odette’s house to see me when you returned. But what does it matter?” I shrugged. “We can still dance together, no?”

  “You’re delightful when you lift your shoulders like that,” he said. “It gives you a very careless and worldly air, you know. The gesture didn’t suit you when you were younger, but you’ve grown into it.” He smiled at me. I found that I couldn’t meet his eyes and I turned my head away.

  He guided me easily around the floor, and if his leg hurt him he gave no indication of it. I was keenly aware of his strength and grace. I could feel the heat of his body and the power in his hands. I was suddenly conscious of myself as a woman, because I was so conscious of Seth Garrett as a man. He wasn't like the others I had danced with. They were boys, as young and as weak as women.

  “I have the feeling, Rhawnie,” he said, “that in spite of your vigorous training at Madame Odette’s hands, you are still very much a Gypsy at heart.”

  I tilted my chin. “I am really no different. I have just learned to curse inside my head instead of with my mouth. Except,” I amended,
“when I am angry.”

  “And then you flavor your cursing with violence,” he said with a grin.

  “No. I am violent only when I am very angry.” He laughed and pressed me close to him. I gasped and said, “You are holding me too tightly, Monsieur!”

  “That’s the proper way to waltz with someone you like, didn’t Odette teach you that?” He dipped his head and kissed the top of my shoulder. He murmured, “You really are delightful, Rhawnie. And to think I almost didn’t come tonight.”

  “Why not?” I asked in a voice that trembled slightly. “You do not like balls?”

  “No. Quite the opposite.”

  “Well, I am glad that you came,” I said. “You are a much better dancer than those other boys, or Monsieur Delacroix.”

  The waltz ended and we strolled arm in arm back to where Simone was standing, gripping Seth’s cane in both hands. Her eyes were smoldering and she said in a tight voice. “It’s just like you, Seth Garrett, to let someone else do the dirty work while you reap the benefits. You had it in mind all along to take back your beggar child after poor Odette had cleaned her up and made her into a ‘lady.’ You make me sick!”

  She hurled the cane at Seth and turned sharply on her heel. I took a step. There was a tearing sound and Simone looked back.

  “You—you have torn my gown! You little vixen!”

  “Oh, forgive me, Madamoiselle,” I said abjectly. “I am so clumsy. What a pity! Now you will have to leave the ball.”

  With an outraged cry Simone lunged at me. Seth intercepted her, and bending her over his arm gave her rump a single, sound blow with his cane. She couldn’t have felt it through all her petticoats, but she bawled like a cat whose tail has been caught in a door.

  Seth set her on her feet and said, “You never did have any manners, Simone. No one ever cared enough to beat them into you.” Then he took my hand and threaded it under his arm. “You can also learn in life by reverse example, Rhawnie,” he said instructively. “Simone, for instance, is a perfect example of how not to be a lady.” He walked away from her. “Bastard!” she shouted after us. “Bitch!” A few onlookers murmured disapprovingly.

  “Will you take supper with me, Rhawnie?” Seth asked. “After all, I did dance with you when you invited me."

  “I promised Madame Odette that I would ask her permission before I accepted an invitation to supper,” I told him.

  “I am sure that Odette is feeling too exhausted to want to be bothered,” he said with a naughty wink. “Please say you will.” He led me into the salon where a sumptuous buffet supper had been laid out. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I could eat a bull,” I said with a deep sigh. “But this thing is holding me in so tightly that I cannot even breathe. Madame said that I was to have a little aspic, nothing more.”

  “What nonsense,” Seth scoffed. “How can a girl dance until dawn with only a little aspic to fuel her efforts? Stay here and I’ll bring you something more substantial.” He foraged at the table and returned with a breast of pheasant, a small camembert, a pear, and two bottles of champagne. “We’ll share the loot,” he said conspiratorially. “Grab a couple of glasses and follow me.”

  Laughing, I obeyed. He went out through long French doors to a broad stone veranda that overlooked the Seine. “Oh, look!” I cried, running to the balustrade. “All the lights of Paris are swimming in the river tonight! Like thousands of stars. It is so beautiful.”

  I heard a small explosion and I looked over my shoulder. Seth poured foaming champagne into our glasses. He handed a brimming glass to me and then lifted his own. “What shall we drink to?”

  I thought for a moment. “If I were still Gypsy I would drink to long life and good travel, to fine weather and many children and no police. But tonight it is different, no! And I am not Gypsy now, I am civilized. Perhaps we should just drink to old friends?”

  He gave a little laugh and said, “I would rather drink to beauty.” He gazed at me over the rim of his glass while he drank.

  I sipped the champagne, the first I had ever tasted. “Oh, it is very good! The bubbles are wonderful! They tickle my nose.”

  “You must drink every drop,” Seth told me. “It’s bad luck to leave a glass of champagne half drunk.”

  “Madame Odette said that I wasn’t to have any,” I said. “She said that it would make my tongue loose and my brains fuzzy.”

  “What a dull evening you would have had if I hadn’t come along to send Odette upstairs with the vapors,” Seth remarked, refilling our glasses. “No food, no champagne, no stimulating conversation. Just dancing and flirting with a lot of boys barely out of short pants.”

  “I do not flirt!” I informed him tartly. “Modest young ladies of good breeding do not flirt.”

  “Who told you that? You haven’t known nearly as many modest young ladies of good breeding as I have, Rhawnie. They’re born flirts, every one of them.”

  “Not Gypsy women,” I said seriously. “If a Gypsy girl is too bold her father will beat her. Why would any man want to marry a girl who looks at all other men? It makes no sense.”

  The music started again. A wan youth with pale hair and large hands and feet appeared. “Ah, Countess, perhaps you have forgotten that you promised me this dance?”

  "Ah, but of course I have not forgotten you!” I exclaimed warmly, rushing forward and pressing his hand in both of mind. “And I was just going to look for you to tell you that I cannot dance with you now because my dear uncle,” I nodded at Seth, “has just returned from a long journey. I have not seen him for so many years—!” I hope you will forgive me. Monsieur.” I had no idea what his name was; even though it was written on my card I couldn’t read it. But I gave him my best smile and said, "Perhaps you will call upon me sometime, Monsieur?” The young man smiled and expressed his understanding and said that he would certainly call upon me at my earliest convenience. Seth refilled our glasses for the third time. I drank and he filled my glass again. My head buzzed pleasantly and my limbs felt very relaxed, almost liquid.

  “I congratulate you, Rhawnie,” he said. “For a girl who doesn’t know how to flirt, you have displayed a most remarkable natural aptitude.”

  “I wasn’t flirting!” I said hotly. “I just told a little lie.”

  “Then you were flirting. It’s the same thing. What made you say I was your uncle?”

  I laughed and threw up my hands. “Who knows? You are not quite old enough to be my father! Ah, I think this champagne of yours inspires mischief.”

  “I think you’re right,” he agreed. We touched glasses and drank. “I love mischief.”

  I held out my empty glass. “Is there more?”

  I hoisted myself up on the balustrade and swung my feet. “It is a truly beautiful night. Have you seen the moon?” I dropped my head all the way back. “It is a full moon! A dancing moon!”

  “Oh?” He stood in front of me. “Do Gypsies dance in the full of the moon?”

  “I do. Gypsies dance whenever they feel happy, whenever life is good! And life is good right now. How I wish I didn’t have to go back to Madame Odette. How dull life with her is! But this, this is wonderful!”

  I spread my arms to the sky and leaned back. I would have fallen if Seth hadn’t put his hands on my waist and lifted me down. I looked at him. Our faces were only inches apart.

  “You don’t want to drown in the full of the moon,“ he said softly. “Bad luck."

  I put my fingers on his lips. “Bad luck any time to speak of death," I warned. I moved my hand and brushed the scar on his cheek. My heart began to pound. I twisted around in his arms then and looked over the edge of the balustrade. “Ah, there is water below us. Is it the river?"

  “No." he touched the back of my neck with his fingertip. I shivered. “Only a fish pond. But you’d still get very wet if you fell in. Will you have more champagne, Countess? It has made your cheeks pinker, and your eyes brighter. You are lovelier than ever."

  “Flattering the horse do
es not make him run faster," I said, regarding him solemnly over the edge of my glass. He smiled. I laughed, too, throatily and heartily. I set down my glass very close to the edge of the balustrade and it toppled into the fish pond. “I feel so happy tonight!" I said passionately. “I want to sing! I want to dance! Tonight I am Gypsy!"

  I ran to the middle of the veranda and stretched out my arms. I began to turn, slowly at first, then faster, rotating my head on my shoulders and humming a weird Gypsy tune. I moved my arms sinuously. My skirts rose and fell around me, and as I gained momentum they flew out from my body with my petticoats, displaying a pair of long legs encased in ivory stockings and long pink drawers tied at the knee with satin ribbons.

  But I didn’t think about my drawers then. I felt marvelously happy, and at one with the night and the stars and the beautiful scene. And I felt that love was near, very near. My dreams would come true.

  Finally I stopped turning and reeled drunkenly. Seth stepped forward and caught me in his arms before I fell.

  “Ah, thank you,” I puffed. “Did you like my dance, Monsieur Seth?”

  “I thought it delightful,” he said in a voice like dark honey. ‘‘And you are a most delightful and delicious young lady.”

  ‘‘I really like this country,” I decided with a dazed smile. “I like this civilization of yours. The Gypsies did not dance with each other, you know. I mean, the men and women did not dance together as they do here. The men danced with the men and the women with the women, or else everyone danced alone, without touching. This is much better, I think. You are a very good dancer, as I said before. You are not afraid to move your body.”

  “That’s true,” Seth admitted, moving his body closer to mine.

  “This dancing has given me a terrible thirst,” I said, wriggling out of his arms. We went back to the balustrade and I leaned against the cool stone while Seth filled our remaining glass.

  “I hope you don’t mind sharing,” he said.

  “To share is to know one of the great joys of living,” I said wisely. “You must always share good fortune so that it doesn’t turn bad.” I drank first and then handed the glass to him. “You must finish so that we don’t have bad luck,” I told him. "I am feeling better now. Not so dizzy. And I am very hungry!”