Catherine threw back her head and gave a peal of musical laughter.
"You are quick with words, Captain," she said, laying her hand lightly on his arm. "You must come and let me introduce you to my father. I am sure he will be delighted to make your acquaintance at long last."
* * *
"Delighted" was not the word Matthew would have used to describe Lord Russell's reaction to him.
Catherine's father was coldly polite but it was clear that he would never have invited a man like Matthew to dine at his table under more normal circumstances.
But these were not normal circumstances. The French ships that plied these waters were rich prizes but the Crown could not spare its own vessels to chase and capture them. British warships were busy blockading the French ports in the Bay of Biscay and in the Mediterranean, keeping imports from reaching Napoleon's armies on the Peninsula.
It was a situation that made for strange bedfellows. Or strange dining companions, Matthew thought, smiling to himself as he sipped an excellent glass of French wine and listened with half an ear to the breathy chatter of the woman seated to his right. She was a baroness, she was exceedingly beautiful and, as she'd made clear from the moment she'd laid eyes on Matthew, she was available.
But Matthew had eyes only for Catherine Russell. Every man at the crowded table did, for that matter. And she had eyes for all of them... but none for him.
What had happened to the promises he'd read in her eyes when they'd met in the entry foyer?
By the time dinner had ended and dancing had begun in the brightly lit ballroom, Matthew was half crazed with jealousy. Catherine laughed gaily at other men's jokes, she smiled at them and danced with them...
And ignored him completely. He waited until she was, for a brief instant, alone. Then he strode up to her and took her hands in his.
"You promised me this dance, Mistress Russell," he said.
Catherine looked surprised. "I believe you are wrong, Captain. I promised this dance to—"
Matthew had already swept her onto the dance floor.
"Do not argue with me," he warned, and when they danced past a pair of French doors, opened to let in the cool night breeze, he swept her through them and out into the darkness of the terrace. "Now, madam. Tell me why you have been deliberately ignoring me?"
"I shall tell you nothing, sir, for you are no gentleman to treat a lady thus."
"Nay." Matthew drew her deeper into the shadows. "I am no gentleman, Catherine. I am a man who takes what he wishes, and what I wish most is a kiss from your sweet lips."
Catherine laughed. "You must steal it then. But not tonight," she added quickly as he began to bend towards her. "I shall meet you tomorrow, in the rose garden."
Matthew nodded. He reached out and traced the outline of her mouth with his finger, gently parting it until he was stroking softly over the delicate, moist flesh inside her bottom lip.
"Tell me the hour, Catherine, and I will be there."
Oh, she thought, as he touched her, he was good at this game. She would not be able to toy with him as easily as she had toyed with so many others. That was good. The element of risk and of danger would add to her pleasure.
She looked into his eyes, smiled, and flicked the tip of her tongue against his fingertip. Matthew felt his body clench like a fist.
She was so beautiful. So seductive. And, by God, so innocent. It was a paradox but one he was sure he understood. She had felt the same lightning bolt as he; it was why she was almost swooning as she leaned towards him, why she sucked his finger into her mouth...
"Catherine?"
The harsh voice drove them apart. Catherine swung towards the doors that led back into the ballroom.
"Father!" Her smile lost its seductive tilt. She clasped Matthew's arm and drew him forward into the spill of light from the house. "How fortuitous! I was just about to go looking for you. Father, Captain McDowell is not feeling well."
Russell's close-set eyes narrowed. "Is that why you brought my daughter out here, Captain? So that she might keep you company in your illness?"
Matthew started to answer but Catherine's hand squeezed a warning.
"It was my idea, Father. We were dancing and all at once, the captain turned pale, excused himself and bolted for the doors." Catherine let go of Matthew's arm and stepped closer to Russell. "I suppose I should have let him go, Father, but then I thought, how would it look if I shunned my duty as your hostess and permitted one of your guests to stagger off and collapse unnoticed?"
A muscle clenched in Russell's jaw.