flushed. ‘I’m sure I don’t know. It’s your father who’s the drinker around here.’
‘Damned shame you don’t drink more,’ said her husband. ‘Might loosen you up a bit.’
His wife shot him an icy glance, but at that moment the door opened and the maid announced the arrival of Sir Matthew Stevens. Sherry glass in hand, Annabel turned to look at the dinner guest and at her very first glance her stomach tightened and she felt a pulse beating in the side of her neck.
She had no idea why. He wasn’t conventionally handsome and his brown curly hair had one or two threads of silver in it. But his face was tanned and rugged and there was a sense of great strength and masculinity about him that she found almost irresistible. As he walked towards Lady Corbett-Wynne and started to greet her, he brushed against Annabel’s skirt. For a brief moment he turned to look at her. His grey eyes were unfathomable, but when he gave her a swift impersonal smile she felt ridiculously pleased, like a child given an unexpected present.
Crispian watched Annabel closely. He recognised the signs of physical attraction immediately, and although surprised – he couldn’t see anything all that special about the newcomer – he’d heard rumours about the man’s success with women and Annabel’s response made it plain that these were most likely true.
Matthew himself was hardly aware of Annabel at their initial meeting. He was far more interested in Lady Corbett-Wynne. Her delicate appearance intrigued him, as did the cool exterior she presented to the world. Always eager for a challenge, he felt that to break down her resistance, and capture her so that he could feel her slenderness against him, actually physically penetrate the facade she used like a shield against men, would give him tremendous satisfaction. And if he was any judge of women it would bring equal delight to her.
None of this was apparent in his polite greeting, but he let his eyes hold hers for a fraction longer than necessary and once he’d been handed his drink he stood very slightly closer to her than she might have expected.
Despite remaining calm and serene, Lady Corbett-Wynne was experiencing very similar sensations to Annabel’s, except that she didn’t recognise them for what they were and wondered if she was ill. Her stomach was turning in a decidedly uncomfortable manner and her mouth was strangely dry.
‘I’m afraid my daughter’s a little late, Sir Matthew,’ she apologised. ‘It’s a fault of hers.’
He smiled. ‘I’ve seen your daughter out riding. Any girl as attractive as that is automatically forgiven for being late.’
‘Unfortunately she relies on that,’ responded his hostess. ‘I’ve tried to teach her manners, but she simply refuses to believe that they matter.’
‘You should use your time teaching her some morals,’ muttered Lord Corbett-Wynne.
His wife turned her head sharply towards him. ‘Crispian of course has no need for such guidance?’
Before he could reply the door opened and Tania came into the room. It was quite an entrance, Annabel conceded to herself. She was beautifully made up, her eyes well-defined with kohl and her lips carefully shaped with pencil and lipstick into a cupid’s bow, but it was the dress that really took everyone’s breath away. Ruby-red in colour, it seemed to match the lighter tones of her auburn hair, which was sleeked back for the evening, and the sheer old-fashioned glamour of the satin bias-cut dress with diamanté clasps and halter neck was stunning.
Lady Corbett-Wynne, however, seemed oblivious of the impact her daughter’s entrance had made. ‘You’re late,’ she said coldly.
‘Sorry, Mother,’ said Tania, her tone of voice making it clear that she wasn’t. ‘It took me ages to wash my hair and bath, someone had used all the hot water, as usual. I think you should get the plumbing in this place seen to before you start on the decorations.’
‘Well, since you
‘Damned shame you don’t drink more,’ said her husband. ‘Might loosen you up a bit.’
His wife shot him an icy glance, but at that moment the door opened and the maid announced the arrival of Sir Matthew Stevens. Sherry glass in hand, Annabel turned to look at the dinner guest and at her very first glance her stomach tightened and she felt a pulse beating in the side of her neck.
She had no idea why. He wasn’t conventionally handsome and his brown curly hair had one or two threads of silver in it. But his face was tanned and rugged and there was a sense of great strength and masculinity about him that she found almost irresistible. As he walked towards Lady Corbett-Wynne and started to greet her, he brushed against Annabel’s skirt. For a brief moment he turned to look at her. His grey eyes were unfathomable, but when he gave her a swift impersonal smile she felt ridiculously pleased, like a child given an unexpected present.
Crispian watched Annabel closely. He recognised the signs of physical attraction immediately, and although surprised – he couldn’t see anything all that special about the newcomer – he’d heard rumours about the man’s success with women and Annabel’s response made it plain that these were most likely true.
Matthew himself was hardly aware of Annabel at their initial meeting. He was far more interested in Lady Corbett-Wynne. Her delicate appearance intrigued him, as did the cool exterior she presented to the world. Always eager for a challenge, he felt that to break down her resistance, and capture her so that he could feel her slenderness against him, actually physically penetrate the facade she used like a shield against men, would give him tremendous satisfaction. And if he was any judge of women it would bring equal delight to her.
None of this was apparent in his polite greeting, but he let his eyes hold hers for a fraction longer than necessary and once he’d been handed his drink he stood very slightly closer to her than she might have expected.
Despite remaining calm and serene, Lady Corbett-Wynne was experiencing very similar sensations to Annabel’s, except that she didn’t recognise them for what they were and wondered if she was ill. Her stomach was turning in a decidedly uncomfortable manner and her mouth was strangely dry.
‘I’m afraid my daughter’s a little late, Sir Matthew,’ she apologised. ‘It’s a fault of hers.’
He smiled. ‘I’ve seen your daughter out riding. Any girl as attractive as that is automatically forgiven for being late.’
‘Unfortunately she relies on that,’ responded his hostess. ‘I’ve tried to teach her manners, but she simply refuses to believe that they matter.’
‘You should use your time teaching her some morals,’ muttered Lord Corbett-Wynne.
His wife turned her head sharply towards him. ‘Crispian of course has no need for such guidance?’
Before he could reply the door opened and Tania came into the room. It was quite an entrance, Annabel conceded to herself. She was beautifully made up, her eyes well-defined with kohl and her lips carefully shaped with pencil and lipstick into a cupid’s bow, but it was the dress that really took everyone’s breath away. Ruby-red in colour, it seemed to match the lighter tones of her auburn hair, which was sleeked back for the evening, and the sheer old-fashioned glamour of the satin bias-cut dress with diamanté clasps and halter neck was stunning.
Lady Corbett-Wynne, however, seemed oblivious of the impact her daughter’s entrance had made. ‘You’re late,’ she said coldly.
‘Sorry, Mother,’ said Tania, her tone of voice making it clear that she wasn’t. ‘It took me ages to wash my hair and bath, someone had used all the hot water, as usual. I think you should get the plumbing in this place seen to before you start on the decorations.’
‘Well, since you
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