Iris Johansen by The Ladyand the Unicorn Page B

found nothing but amusement and a curious warmth in the expression on his face. “I’m not late,” she protested indignantly. “I still have two minutes. Stokley said so.”
    He chuckled, his eyes dancing. “Well, if Stokley approves, who am I to argue? He’s the final word on protocol in my domain.” His gaze went over her in lingering approval. “He certainly outdid himself when he chose that gown. You look lovely, Janna.”
    There was an odd huskiness in his voice that caused a bewildering wave of heat to surge through her. “Thank you,” she said faintly, looking desperately around the room for some excuse to escape the intimate intensity of his gaze. She found it in the form of the peacock-splendid Diane Simmons, who was talking to a rotund, gray-haired man. “Miss Simmons looks fantastic in scarlet, doesn’t she?” she asked hurriedly. “I thought blondes weren’t supposed to wear anything but pastels.”
    He ignored the comment as blatantly as he was ignoring his mistress. He took Janna’s elbow and turned her gently toward a group of men and women in the corner of the room. “I know I promised you that you wouldn’t have to mingle, and I’ll keep to it,” he said softly. “But it would appear odd if I didn’t introduce you to a few guests. I’ll have Dawson extricate you in a few minutes. Okay?”
    Janna nodded, her brown eyes wide and bewildered as she docilely let him lead her across the room. Just when she thought she was beginning tounderstand Santine, he did something to prove that she had scarcely scratched the surface. She had expected him to be his usual autocratic self this evening, judging from those last curt sentences on the terrace. Yet she was sure she’d detected an undercurrent of gentleness, perhaps even tenderness, in his voice.
    “You must be very quick,” Santine was murmuring in her ear as they slowly traversed the length of the room. “When I saw you playing in the fountain an hour ago, I really didn’t think you’d make it down on time.”
    She cast him a startled glance. “You saw me at the fountain?” she asked.
    “I was in the library,” he said softly. “After Stokley told me you weren’t in your room, I assumed you’d gone back to the gazebo, and I was watching for you at the window.” His lips curved in a little smile. “I was a trifle vexed with you, to put it mildly. Then you came dancing into the courtyard barefoot and tousled as a happy child and decided to play in the fountain. It was a rather enchanting sight.” His dark gaze narrowed curiously on her surprised face. “Tell me, why were you staring so disapprovingly at my bell tower?”
    “Oh, it wasn’t disapproval. I like it very much,” she assured him absently, still feeling a trifle dazed by the knowledge that those wild, foolish moments had been observed by Santine. “It was just that I’d forgotten those shutters when I built my sand castle.”
    “Sand castle?” he said blankly, then he suddenly threw back his head and laughed aloud. Several guests stopped their casual chatter to gaze at him in discreet amazement, but he ignored them with typical arrogance. “You were building sand castles on the beach all afternoon?”
    “Not all afternoon,” she said dreamily. “Part of the time I was walking on the beach and playing in the surf. I had a wonderful time.”
    “I can see that you did,” he said, his gaze on her glowing face, and there was again that odd gentleness in their darkness. “I wish that I could have been there to watch you.” They had reached the small cluster of guests that had been Santine’s objective, and he pulled his gaze from her with obvious reluctance. Then, as if by magic, that bewildering gentleness was gone, replaced by his usual mockery as he smoothly performed the introductions.
    There were only five people in the small group in the corner, but from the careless attentiveness of Santine’s demeanor she guessed they were the primary players in