Forbidden Susan Johnson (english love story books txt) 📖

Eastern society. Glancing over her head in swift perusal, he saw Daisy walking out onto the dance floor with the Rutherford heir.

His green gaze returned to Nadine, lazily drifted over her smiling face, down to her décolletage, and then slowly back again to her amused eyes.

He grinned. "Did I say I was on my way over to invite you to waltz?"

She snapped her fan shut and winked at him. "Clever man."

The dance floor was crowded, strains of the Viennese waltz wafting dulcetly above tinkling laughter and flirtatious conversation as dancers twirled and glided across the ballroom. Rustling silk gowns framed naked shoulders, gleaming and perfumed. Jeweled and coiffed ladies with painted fans swinging from their kid-skin covered wrists were juxtaposed like plumed and tropical birds of paradise with the stark black severity of their male partners in evening dress. The pungent scent of wealth rose in the heated air past the glittering crystal chandeliers to the gold-leaf ceiling reputedly costing more than the new city hall.

"You should dance more often, Etienne." Nadine's smile was flirtatious, her suggestion based not only on his expertise but on the Duc's normal reluctance to participate in ballroom festivities.

"If threatened so effectively," he replied with a roguish smile, "in future, you can be sure I will."

"You wouldn't have danced with me otherwise?" Her coquettish face was raised to his, her pale brows arched in provocative query.

The truth would never do.

"I live to dance with you, Nadine," the Duc drawled, his smile distracting from the irony of his remark. "Your Viennese orchestra is superb."

Behind an artful arrangement of potted lilies and flowering hibiscus trees, the fifty musicians from Vienna were earning their generous stipend.

"Alva has never brought over a Viennese orchestra," Nadine said, contentment smooth in her voice at having outshone her Vanderbilt adversary.

Aware of the rivalry between the two ladies vying for leadership of society's exalted four hundred, the Duc wondered at what point the competition would reach outrageous levels. Both ladies had already brought "cottage" architecture to new heights of the ridiculous.

"A coup for you then," he replied, amusement in the gleaming green of his eyes.

"And you've never been her guest."

Etienne masked his momentary shock at the ownership in her tone. He'd never realized he was a commodity of such import. "I'm sure Alva's had many guests of considerably more interest," he modestly replied.

"She wants you, too, Etienne, mark my words."

He was always slightly astonished at the freedom of speech American women affected. And when Nadine melted into his body on a swinging turn, he decided he'd better lock his door tonight.

He'd lost sight of Daisy in the crush of dancers, she and her young blond partner having slipped away in the sea of twirling guests. But they reappeared suddenly from behind a decorative arch festooned with garlanded orchids and she was smiling up at the blasted man.

It shouldn't matter, he reasonably decreed.

It shouldn't matter so much, he thought a second later, an abrupt, surging frustration assailing him.

She could smile at whomever she pleased.

Rutherford was probably her newest attachment.

Perhaps Beau Rutherford was the reason for her letter offering him her friendship.

Was he?

The Duc glided into a turn to maintain her within sight.

Arrayed in a cloth of gold-gown embroidered with glittering butterflies, Daisy presented a ravishing sight of opulence, the shimmering fabric gorgeous contrast to her dark skin and hair. If she'd suddenly shouted to him across the milling crowd and vast ballroom, he couldn't have been more struck.

She was a veritable vision—a glowing tantalizing vision.

Damn the man holding her and damn her offer of friendship.

And damn her father, too, who tried to kill him this afternoon.

He intended to rip her out of Rutherford's arms.

And then what? the saner portion of his brain posed in rational query. But a second later, lucid thought lost out to the flood of galvanic violent emotions flaring through his senses.

Then I'll have her, he grimly decreed, like a long ago de Vec might have contemplated the advantages of plunder.

From the look of things, Nadine had put her stamp of ownership on Etienne, Daisy reflected, her eyes drawn to the splendid image they presented. Small and fair against his powerful size and brooding good looks, Nadine and the Duc were the personifica-tion of femininity and virile manhood. And Nadine couldn't have been any closer to Etienne unless she climbed inside his jacket. Where the hell was her husband?

Probably upstairs sleeping. Oliver Belmont maintained an eccentric regimen of exercise, diet, and rest, waking at sunrise and retiring very early. Since Nadine often danced until dawn and slept until afternoon, perhaps the brevity of their hours together accounted for the preservation of their marriage.

Oliver was tolerant, too, everyone knew, of his young wife's escapades.

And it looked like Nadine's newest playmate was the Duc de Vec.

Why did it bother her so?

Since this afternoon, when she'd first recognized his reckless style of play on the polo ground and then spoken to him, Daisy had asked herself that question countless times. Her answers were muddled and incomplete, logic battling the power of her emotions. On seeing him again, she'd felt as though a hot sun were beating down on her naked body, desire so overwhelming a sensation. But the practical voice so dominant in her personality had won the struggle for supremacy over the last few hours, its influence more persevering and tenacious. She'd made the right decision considering all the serious problems explicit in their relationship, she kept reminding herself. She and Etienne could never have solved all the numerous and fundamental discrepancies in their lives. So grow up, she silently admonished, get a grip on yourself. And keep Nadine in mind. As usual, Etienne had found a cordial woman eager to amuse him. Typical. Normal. Habitual. He'd never change.

When the waltz concluded with a flourish of violins, half a room separated Daisy and the Duc.

Discussion immediately broke out as conversational groups drifted together to exchange the latest gossip concerning Newport's "cottagers." While Daisy and Beau joined a group of his friends,