Rose covered her hand. The ring that had made that scar was no longer there, but it felt as though it was. She had thrown that mark of his possession back in his face. She reminded herself that she was free of Axel, that he could do nothing to hurt her, but she knew that was not true.
She sent him in return a cold, challenging look and he came to her with his wicked lip-curling smile. It was the nicest thing about him.
“You remember me,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it possessively.
“I could scarcely forget you.”
“You nearly did for me. You and that ring and that stallion of yours. I tell you, Rosie, never in all my years in the Peninsula have I seen the like of your efficiency at mayhem.”
“Must you go on about it?” Rose asked, looking distractedly at the attention they were drawing.
“What? Have I offended your maidenly sensibilities?”
“At one time or another you have offended all my sensibilities.”
“Dance with me. I think it would be so much more amusing to argue with you while you are concentrating on your steps.”
“I am not dancing,” she said firmly, daring him to dislodge her from the palm tree.
“Never say you don’t remember how, for I recall quite distinctly the dancing at our engagement party.”
“Of course I remember how. I simply am not dancing tonight.”
“Why not tonight?” he demanded, compelling her to rise to her feet so as not to have a tug-of-war with him over her hand.
“Don’t be so stupid, Axel. If I dance now they will think I have been wanting to dance all evening.”
“And haven’t you?” he asked with a laugh.
“Yes, of course, but I don’t want to let them know that,” Rose said, nodding toward the Varner women.
“But—no! This is all too complex for me. You will dance,” he said, placing an arm forcibly about her waist when the players obligingly struck up a waltz. “You owe me that much.”
As Axel whirled her down the floor Rose caught a glimpse of Harriet’s flushed and angry face, and an almost jealous look from Cassie. Certainly Mrs. Varner knew the man who was pursuing her daughter was waltzing passionately with his former fiancée. She whispered something to Lady Catherine just as they danced past. Lady Catherine’s face looked as though it had been cut in stone, for all the expression it bore.
“You have grown even more lovely with the years,” Axel said in his caressing way.
“Fustian.”
“A lady would return the compliment. Do you not still find me handsome?”
Rose glanced up at him and had to admit that she did not. “I find you dissipated.”
“Then I have achieved my aim.”
“If looking dissolute were a worthwhile object.” Rose turned her face away, desperately searching for Stanley, or Alice’s petal-pink gown.
“But women love it.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “The more scarred and disheveled I am, the more I have to fend them off.” His sun-bleached blond hair fell mockingly over his brow from its central part.
“Not all women,” Rose corrected, trying to push herself back from his embrace without tripping. “At least one woman sees you for what you are.”
“And what is that?”
“A spoiled, selfish blackguard—”
“Yes, of course.”
“You’re impossible,” she whispered viciously.
“I give you impossible. What else?”
“And dangerous.”
He gripped her even tighter. “Most certainly. I commend you on your excellent reading of my character. Though I think you should have mentioned what a fine dancer I am.”
“I had no intention of complimenting you, sir. I think very ill of you. And do not smolder, Axel. It makes you look childish.”
This last remark seemed to shake his poise. “I am a dangerous man,” he warned.
“I know that,” Rose said, fixing him with her angry green eyes.
“Then why do you not act like other women?”
“Seek you out, you mean? Common sense. A coiled snake has a certain fall-from-grace fascination about it,” she said with disgust. “That does not mean I would stretch out my hand to pet it.”
“You are piercing my hand with your nails,” Axel complained.
“I will draw blood in a moment if you do not put some space between us.”
“Any other woman in the room would be enjoying herself. They are all watching you.”
“I am well aware of that I detest being the object of so much scrutiny.”
“I can take care of that.” Axel spun her into the hallway and dragged her toward the only closed door. It turned out to be the library.
“This is the outside of enough,” Rose complained as Axel kicked the door shut and turned her wrist around behind her back to hold her close to him. “Release me or you will regret it.”
“I don’t think so,” Axel said as he captured her mouth in a hungry kiss.
But Rose had one arm free and that was enough. She drew back and punched him in the throat as hard as she could manage. Axel went to his knees, gasping for air.
The door opened and Bennet appeared, seeming startled to see a guest of his in difficulty. “Are you—Axel, what happened?”
“He cannot talk now. He is choking,” Rose informed Bennet, as though it were an everyday event.
“I can see that. Perhaps we should get him some water,” Bennet said, searching the glasses and decanters on the side table.
“Oh no, let’s not. I mean, it’s only Axel. He’ll be fine.”
“Brandy!” Axel gasped, staggering to his feet and supporting himself with a hand on the edge of the desk.
“See,” Rose replied.
“Still,” Bennet said, repressing a chuckle, “I think I should do something. Can’t have him expiring in the library.”
“Oh, very well,” Rose agreed. “I will get some.” She exited in no particular hurry.
Axel gulped from the glass Bennet put in his hands and had a renewed fit of coughing that lasted several minutes.
“Well, perhaps brandy wasn’t the best choice,” Bennet decided. “What happened?”
“She punched me in the throat,” Axel complained hoarsely.
“No! Really?” Bennet bit his lips to keep from laughing outright.
“Yes, ow!” Axel was still feeling the injured area.
“Dangerous woman,” Bennet observed sympatheti-cally. “Shall I call my carriage to take you home?”
“Devil take you, Varner!”
“He probably will, and you as well,” Bennet said, refilling Axel’s glass and pouring some wine for himself.
“See that this doesn’t get about”
“Would