details flooded her mind in distracting waves. A full mouth. Strong, square chin. Face framed on high cheekbones. Dark, curly hair. Deep-set eyes … crinkling just now at the corners. Apparently he found the notion of her defending herself amusing.
“I was looking for the Dungeon with a ‘Mrs. Von Furstenberg’ in it.”
He knew her name. Panic threatened to bloom as she tried to think what it meant. Whoever was responsible for abducting her must have sent him to … When he took a step forward, she lurched back.
“Stay where you are—don’t you lay a hand on me!”
“Really, Mrs.—you are Mrs. Von Furstenberg, are you not? You seem to be under the misapprehension that I am here for some nefarious purpose. I assure you, madam,”—he raised and spread both hands—“you are in no danger.”
“That depends on what you call ‘danger,’” she said, her volume increasing with each word. “I’ve already been abducted and stripped of clothing and imprisoned in chambers furnished for depraved carnal assignations. That certainly qualifies as danger in my book. Not to mention being carted bodily from place to place and fondled rudely by that menace in a turban!”
“Punjab?” He allowed his smile to escape. “I assure you, madam, Punjab is not equipped to inflict the sort of harm that you seem to fear.”
“He’s as big as a mountain,” she insisted.
“He is also a eunuch.”
The pronouncement startled her so that she lowered her whip and cane.
“Really?” She’d read of such things … harems, eunuchs, and the like … but never imagined running into them in person. “Are you quite certain?”
“If you mean, have I made personal observations, no. But, I have been reliably informed by several of the ‘employees’ here that Punjab is physically powerful, but—alas for him—not the least bit potent.”
His knowing smile and the way his eyes kept dipping to her corset aroused both disbelief and outrage. Up came the whip and cane again.
“If you didn’t come to ravish me, then what are you doing here?” she demanded, advancing another step.
“The proprietress of this establishment sent me.”
“I knew it!” She brandished her weapons and saw his gaze dart from whip to cane. “Look, you—you’ll get nothing out of me but trouble!”
“No doubt,” he said, holding his ground. “I repeat, I haven’t come to sample your”—he gestured to her exposed form—“
charms.
I’ve come as Mrs. Brown’s agent.”
Beatrice scowled. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but this wasn’t it.
“Her agent? In what?”
“Certain
legal
matters.”
“You’re a lawyer?” Her mouth dropped open in surprise, then she snapped it shut and scowled. “I should have known. Conspiracy. Criminality. Depravity.
Lawyers
couldn’t be far behind.”
It was his turn to redden.
“There has been a mistake,” he continued, his voicesuddenly a bit deeper and smoother. “Mrs. Brown sent for me the moment she learned you were in her establishment. She wants no difficulty. In fact, she is eager to free you.”
He had evaded the question of his role, Beatrice thought, as she struggled to ignore the way his attention strayed from her face. Blue, she realized. His eyes were a vivid blue.
“Well, she
has
difficulty, whether she wants it or not. And if it was all just a mistake, why doesn’t she let me go?” she demanded, annoyed at the way she couldn’t seem to find a word to describe the exact color of his eyes. Sky blue … powder blue … turquoise … kerry blue … cornflower … azure …
“Well, there
is
something she insists on having first,” he said, moving to the side, strolling deliberately toward the far side of the ottoman.
She turned to follow his movement, momentarily absorbed in the way he moved … easily, naturally … with consummate male confidence … as if he were used to being scrutinized. Only men at the top of their game moved as he did; only men who knew what they
“I was looking for the Dungeon with a ‘Mrs. Von Furstenberg’ in it.”
He knew her name. Panic threatened to bloom as she tried to think what it meant. Whoever was responsible for abducting her must have sent him to … When he took a step forward, she lurched back.
“Stay where you are—don’t you lay a hand on me!”
“Really, Mrs.—you are Mrs. Von Furstenberg, are you not? You seem to be under the misapprehension that I am here for some nefarious purpose. I assure you, madam,”—he raised and spread both hands—“you are in no danger.”
“That depends on what you call ‘danger,’” she said, her volume increasing with each word. “I’ve already been abducted and stripped of clothing and imprisoned in chambers furnished for depraved carnal assignations. That certainly qualifies as danger in my book. Not to mention being carted bodily from place to place and fondled rudely by that menace in a turban!”
“Punjab?” He allowed his smile to escape. “I assure you, madam, Punjab is not equipped to inflict the sort of harm that you seem to fear.”
“He’s as big as a mountain,” she insisted.
“He is also a eunuch.”
The pronouncement startled her so that she lowered her whip and cane.
“Really?” She’d read of such things … harems, eunuchs, and the like … but never imagined running into them in person. “Are you quite certain?”
“If you mean, have I made personal observations, no. But, I have been reliably informed by several of the ‘employees’ here that Punjab is physically powerful, but—alas for him—not the least bit potent.”
His knowing smile and the way his eyes kept dipping to her corset aroused both disbelief and outrage. Up came the whip and cane again.
“If you didn’t come to ravish me, then what are you doing here?” she demanded, advancing another step.
“The proprietress of this establishment sent me.”
“I knew it!” She brandished her weapons and saw his gaze dart from whip to cane. “Look, you—you’ll get nothing out of me but trouble!”
“No doubt,” he said, holding his ground. “I repeat, I haven’t come to sample your”—he gestured to her exposed form—“
charms.
I’ve come as Mrs. Brown’s agent.”
Beatrice scowled. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but this wasn’t it.
“Her agent? In what?”
“Certain
legal
matters.”
“You’re a lawyer?” Her mouth dropped open in surprise, then she snapped it shut and scowled. “I should have known. Conspiracy. Criminality. Depravity.
Lawyers
couldn’t be far behind.”
It was his turn to redden.
“There has been a mistake,” he continued, his voicesuddenly a bit deeper and smoother. “Mrs. Brown sent for me the moment she learned you were in her establishment. She wants no difficulty. In fact, she is eager to free you.”
He had evaded the question of his role, Beatrice thought, as she struggled to ignore the way his attention strayed from her face. Blue, she realized. His eyes were a vivid blue.
“Well, she
has
difficulty, whether she wants it or not. And if it was all just a mistake, why doesn’t she let me go?” she demanded, annoyed at the way she couldn’t seem to find a word to describe the exact color of his eyes. Sky blue … powder blue … turquoise … kerry blue … cornflower … azure …
“Well, there
is
something she insists on having first,” he said, moving to the side, strolling deliberately toward the far side of the ottoman.
She turned to follow his movement, momentarily absorbed in the way he moved … easily, naturally … with consummate male confidence … as if he were used to being scrutinized. Only men at the top of their game moved as he did; only men who knew what they
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