“And where precisely is your home?” she persisted, refusing to be daunted by the cool haughtiness etched into his expression.
The pale slender fingers lifted to absently play with a diamond pin in the folds of his cravat. She discovered herself nearly hypnotized by the languid movement. He possessed the hands of an artist, she thought fuzzily. How would it feel to have those fingers stroking her overheated skin ...
Simone shuddered in shock as she hastily thrust the renegade thought away.
“You are very inquisitive,” he drawled in those smoky tones.
“Am I?” She forced herself to meet that disturbing gaze squarely. “Well, perhaps that is because I am unaccustomed to having strangers invade my home. I am very select in who receives an invitation.”
“Ah.” He remained supremely unconcerned at her insult. “A wise precaution, no doubt.”
“I think so. It would not do to have a clever encroacher thrusting their way into society.”
“An encroacher?” A chiseled ebony brow slowly lifted. “You do not believe anyone would possess the audacity to boldly enter society without the proper bloodlines ?”
A near hysterical giggle rose to her throat before she sternly subdued it. What was the matter with her? She would give all away if she were not careful.
“Yes, I do.”
The dark eyes seemed to narrow. “An interesting notion.”
Realizing she was treading dangerous waters, Simone prepared to take a more direct approach. Clearly the gentleman could not be shamed by more subtle means.
“I believe, sir, you are being deliberately obtuse,” she charged in low tones.
The thick brow inched higher. “Deliberately? Could it not be that I am merely unintentionally obtuse? After all, the proper bloodlines have never ensured intelligence.”
Her teeth gritted. “How did you enter my home?”
“I assure you I did not materialize from thin air.” He appeared amused by her rising irritation. “I walked through the front door as any proper guest would do.”
“Impossible,” Simone retorted, thinking of the large, barrel-chested Bartson. No matter how dangerous this man might be he could not have bested her servant without a very noisy struggle. “My butler would never have allowed anyone in without an invitation.”
He offered an elegant shrug. “He was quite understanding when I revealed that I had only recently arrived in London. I assured him that had you known of my presence you most certainly would have desired me to attend your elegant gathering. We are, after all, destined to be quite intimately acquainted.”
Intimately?
A feather of fear whispered through her heart.
He sounded so utterly confident. So sure of himself.
She gave a sharp shake of her head. “Bartson would never have believed such nonsense.”
Those fingers stilled upon the diamond pin. “Why not? It is the simple truth.”
Once again she felt that compelling force of him reach out to wrap about her. It was almost tangible and Simone battled to clear her foggy mind.
“I think you must be mad,” she whispered with an unconscious frown.
Without warning the beautiful male features hardened and a glitter entered the black eyes.
“You have yet to know true madness,” he informed her in low tones. “But you will. And very soon I fear.”
She took an abrupt step backward, barely preventing herself from glancing about and ensuring that she was still surrounded by glittering guests.
She would not be frightened nor intimidated, she sternly reminded herself. Not again.
“Why are you here?”