“Then we shall,” he said, leaning in to nip at her ear.
Phoebe gasped as desire lanced through her, and wondered if she might rather go back to the hotel at once.
Max shook his head.
“Not until dawn,” he murmured, amusement lurking in his dark eyes.
Oh, well, she had said she wanted to dance until the sun came up, and all good things came to those who waited, she supposed. She grinned at him and he swept her into a quick turn, spinning her so fast she almost stumbled. His arms tightened about her, keeping her steady, and on they went, with Max guiding her effortlessly through the crowd. He would not act so in life though, she realised. He would always steady her when she stumbled, but he would not choose her path for her.
Phoebe closed her eyes and let the music spin her away.
***
Max stared down at the glittering look Phoebe gave him and felt his breath catch. The night was over, the sun touching the sky and lighting the darkness, but Phoebe did not look the least bit sleepy.
“Take me back to the hotel,” she said, and Max became aware of a new challenge. How the devil to get Phoebe back to her parents and marry her, without debauching her at every opportunity between here and Dern?
Judging by the stormy darkening of her eyes, it was an endeavour Phoebe had no intention of helping with.
He took her hand and placed it firmly upon his sleeve, guiding her out of the lavish ballroom.
“Should we find Charlie and Nina before we go?” she asked as he steered her through the crowds.
“No,” he said, smiling a little. “I suspect they left hours ago.”
Phoebe grinned, and he chuckled at the pleasure in her eyes. “Do you think they’ll marry?”
Max shrugged, less certain of that than the fact that Charlie had every intention of getting to know Nina a good deal better. “I think it would take a great incentive to get Kline to walk the aisle again, after his last experience.”
“Oh, but Nina is nothing like his last wife, I’m certain of it, and I’m an excellent judge of character.”
Max sent her a bland look and Phoebe huffed.
“I knew Alvanly was a rogue, Max, so don’t look at me like that. I admit I was immensely stupid to fall in with his plans, but I thought he only meant to seduce me, and I’m very capable of foiling those sorts of plans.”
Max stilled, something hot and angry unfurling in his belly. “What do you mean by that? If some devil has tried to—”
Phoebe sighed and reached up a hand to touch his cheek, such a tender caress he shivered with longing, wishing they were already at the hotel and away from prying eyes.
“No, Max. There are no more villains for you to protect me from. I only meant that I am not so innocent as that. I know how to defend myself if the need arises, and if that had been Alvanly’s plan he would have failed, but I think perhaps you are coming to see that for yourself.”
He let out a soft breath of laughter. “Indeed,” he murmured.
It seemed an eternity before they had collected their cloaks and hats, but finally the black painted door of Rouge et Noir closed behind them and Max handed Phoebe up into the carriage. He had barely closed the door and sat down when Phoebe landed herself in his lap with a soft rustle of silk skirts and petticoats.
Desire lanced through him, all the restraint he had meant to hold himself back with snapping in an instant as her soft behind nestled against his groin. With a groan he reached for her, sinking his fingers in the insanity of her latest hairdo and pulling her mouth to his. He was neither tender nor sweet, his mouth urgent upon hers, seeking, taking, demanding more, but he sensed his passion only inflamed her. This was his Phoebe after all, bold and brave and unlike anyone he’d ever met in his life before. She tugged at his cravat and he stilled her hand.
“We have to walk through the hotel yet,” he said, laughing a little at the frustration in her eyes.
“But I want to touch you,” she said, her impatience sending a jolt of lust directly to his groin.
“You must wait,” he commanded, astonished he got the words out and not the least bit surprised his voice was deep and harsh.