Flight of Dragons(29)

“If I had my way, I would let you.”

The brilliant flash of her smile encouraged him. “I know you’re a busy man.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Two men are coming this way. Security?”

“Hmm. A necessary evil.”

“Well, you let me know if you need to lose them. Distractions are my specialty.”

Balthazar couldn’t help himself and glanced quickly at her figure. His dragon uttered a low growl of satisfaction, and it took immense willpower for him to remain still. “They are?” he asked, his voice rough with rising desire. “I’ll keep that in mind.” If Balthazar didn’t leave now, he would whisk Miss Haraldsdóttir to a secluded corner and ask her to demonstrate her distractions. “But until then, I hope you enjoy the party.” He grasped her hand and raised it to his lips.



***



When she’d stood face to face with their benefactor, her internal alarms went off, but in a way that her body hadn’t responded to a man in months. And it wasn’t an “Oh, he’s very handsome” type of response either. Heat blossomed through her, and a trickle of sweat ran down her back.

Balthazar Andal exuded strength and confidence. It surrounded him, and no one could mistake it. People stepped aside to let him pass without question. Over six feet tall with a broad upper body, he moved with an animal grace, almost gliding across the polished floor. Thick brown hair framed a face that displayed deep character lines, which added an appealing allure. But what caught her attention was the gold glint in his eyes as he looked at her—she had never seen eyes that color before.

She rubbed her arms and snagged another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She sipped it slowly, looking around, and caught Mr. Andal staring at her while surrounded by several young women. They laughed louder than necessary and did their best to engage him in their conversation.

Eva felt a slight twinge of disappointment. If his interest lay in groupies, that was his choice, but she had pegged him as a more mature and intelligent man.

She turned away and walked to the other end of the room, listening in on animated conversations. She walked the perimeter, admiring the intricately carved dome ceiling and paintings that lined the walls. One distinguished gentleman’s portrait caught her eye, and she stood still for a moment, gazing at his confident yet aloof expression.

“That is Edward Hough, Lord Balmont,” a deep, husky voice said next to her ear. “This old building was once his home, but bad habits and risky financial investments left him in a very bad way.”

She turned slightly. Mr. Andal stood behind her, near enough for her to smell his subtle cologne and distinctly clean male scent. The combination sent her mind spinning. “He sold his house to pay his bills?”

“Oh no.” He stood beside her now and their arms touched. Even through his jacket, Eva felt his heat on her flesh, and shivers of delightful pleasure zipped through her nerves. “Lord Balmont inherited the house; it’s unheard of to sell family property.” He looked down and smiled. “So he decided to rent it out while living in Bath.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she replied, laughing.

“It’s true. Even though he lost his money, he was still a shrewd businessman. He figured he would make more money renting his London home, and it still remains in his family.”

Eva looked at the portrait. “Who did he rent this grand building out to?”

“Families of debutantes. Filthy-rich, eligible bachelors hosting secret card parties.” Mr. Andal shrugged. “Money talks, and only a few could afford his exorbitant prices. He actually made a fortune.” He bumped her shoulder gently with his. “And he kept his home.”

Such a light tap, but between it and the story he’d told her, it felt like they shared a secret. “I wonder,” she whispered, “if you have any stories about the other pictures in here?”

“Actually, I don’t.” He smiled and held out his arm. “I hoped to catch your attention so I could escort you to the bar at the end of the hall for a drink.”

Eva wrapped her arm around his, flattered at his attempt. “Well, you knew the right way to do that. It’s nice to talk to a man who enjoys history.”

“Is there anything else you like about a man?”

With other men, the bluntness would have turned her off, but Mr. Andal’s confidence in himself didn’t come across as an inflated ego; it felt natural, a part of him. “It’s a very short list.”

He stopped at that, staring down at her with those golden eyes. “You have particular tastes?”