The members of the orchestra were now filing out of the Garden Room. He was aware that Ella had determinedly not looked in his direction, but as she stepped forward she shot him a lightning glance, and colour flared along her cheekbones when he dipped his head in acknowledgement.
Her reaction pleased him. He had known when they had met in Paris and he had seen the flare of startled awareness in her eyes that the attraction was mutual. Sexual alchemy was a potent force that held them both in its grip, but for some reason she had refused his invitation to dinner in a cool tone that had been at variance with her dilated pupils and the tremulous softness of her mouth.
He dismissed the rumour circulating among certain individuals of her social group that she was frigid. No one could play an instrument with such fire and passion and have ice running through her veins. But her resistance was certainly a novelty. He had never before encountered a problem persuading any woman into his bed, Vadim mused cynically, aware that his billionaire status accounted for much of his attraction.
But Ella was different from the models and socialites he usually dated. She was a member of the British aristocracy; beautiful, intelligent and a gifted musician. The sexual attraction between them was indisputable, and as Vadim turned his head to watch her slender figure walk out of the Garden Room he felt a surge of determination to make her his mistress.
The evening at Amesbury House was a fundraising event organised by the patron of a children’s charity, and after the performance by the RLO a selection of cheeses and fine wines were served in the Egyptian Room. Ella smiled and chatted with the guests, but she was conscious of the familiar empty feeling inside her that always followed a performance. She had put her heart and soul into playing, but now she felt emotionally drained, and the hubbub of voices exacerbated her niggling headache.
She had not seen Vadim since she had caught his amused stare on her way out of the Garden Room, and she assumed that he had left immediately after the performance. It was a relief to know she would not have to contend with his disturbing presence for the rest of the evening, she thought as she stepped through the door leading to the orangery-a glass-roofed conservatory that ran the length of the house, and which was blessedly cool and quiet after the stuffy atmosphere of the Egyptian Room. It was beautiful here among the leafy citrus trees, but she longed to be back at Kingfisher House, beside the River Thames, her home for the past few years. She glanced at her watch, wondering how soon she could slip away from the party, and gave a startled gasp when a figure stepped out of the shadows.
‘I thought you’d gone.’ Shock lent a sharp edge to her voice, and Vadim Aleksandrov’s dark brows rose quizzically.
‘I am flattered that you noticed my absence, Lady Eleanor.’
His deep, accented voice was so innately sexy that she could not restrain the little shiver of reaction that ran through her. The only light in the orangery came from the silver moonbeams slanting through the glass, and she hoped he could not see the flush of colour that surged into her cheeks.
‘Please don’t call me that,’ she said tautly. ‘I never use my title.’
‘You would prefer for me to call you Ella, as your friends do?’ In the pearly grey half-light Vadim’s smile revealed a set of perfect white teeth which reminded Ella of a predatory wolf. ‘I am delighted that you regard me as a friend,’ he drawled. ‘It marks a major step forward in our relationship.’#p#分页标题#e#
She froze, infuriated by his mocking tone, and aware of an underlying serious note in his voice that warned her to be on her guard. ‘We don’t have a relationship to move forward, backward, or anywhere else,’ she snapped.
‘An unsatisfactory situation that can easily be remedied. I have two tickets for Madame Butterfly at the Royal Opera House for Thursday evening. Would you care to join me? We could have dinner after the performance.’
‘I’m flying to Cologne to play at the Opernhaus on Wednesday,’ Ella told him truthfully, assuring herself that the faint twinge of regret she felt was only because Puccini’s famous opera was one of her favourites.
Vadim shrugged, drawing her attention to the formidable width of his shoulders, and she felt a curious tugging sensation low in her stomach. ‘I’ll rearrange the tickets for another night.’
His supreme self-confidence was that of a man who was used to getting his own way, and his arrogant smile made Ella’s hackles rise. Clearly he expected women to fall at his feet, and no doubt there were plenty who would leap at the chance to spend an evening with him-and then probably leap into his bed with the same eagerness-but she wasn’t one of them. She had tried to rebuff him politely, but obviously blunter tactics were needed. ‘Which part of no don’t you understand?’ she queried icily.