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did fit, he thought, regarding her over the rim of his glass. There was a natural freshness about her that spoke of spring breezes. Yet her coloring belonged to fall—rich, warm, vibrant . Her hair was long and thick, with a few tousled curls framing her face, and the russet shade contrasted enchantingly with her apricot complexion. He was reminded of the red maples he had seen in America during an Indian summer. . . . Where the hell had Denviile found her?
    "I find it odd that Julian never mentioned you before," Dominic said casually. "Where is Julian, by the way? I expected him to be here."
    "He is still in London, I imagine." That was all the information Brie intended to divulge. There was no reason to tell the arrogant Lord Stanton just why Julian was still in the city. It was none of his business, after all.
    "Perhaps he decided to wait out the storm," Dominic commented, taking another sip of brandy.
    Brie met his gaze deliberately. "That is indeed possible. Some people are sensible enough not to travel in a blizzard."
    Dominic's eyes glimmered with something other than amusement. "You have a very sharp tongue, chérie . I wonder that Denviile tolerates it."
    Brie flushed and lowered her gaze. She frequently spoke her mind too freely, but she had no call to be rude. Yet, Lord Stanton's remark had been just as cutting. It was clear that he thought she was here at Julian's invitation—and she could hardly set him straight without revealing who she really was. It was irritating, though, having to bite her tongue when she would have liked to tell Stanton to go to the devil. Lord, but this situation was becoming more complicated by the minute.
    Dominic's reflections were running along different lines. He had a much more pleasurable occupation in mind than exchanging sharp words with Brie. She looked utterly enticing, he thought, sitting there curled on the chaise longue. That absurdly large dressing gown had fallen open at the neck, revealing a smooth, creamy throat and hinting at womanly curves. How very much he wanted to explore the hidden delights of her slender body. His gaze went to the bearskin rug before the hearth. He could easily imagine her lying there naked, her glorious hair spread beneath them like a carpet of liquid fire. And he would have her there soon, Dominic promised himself. Unless Julian had a prior claim. . . .
    "Actually, I pressed on for a reason," Dominic remarked. "I thought Denville's hunting lodge, however remote, would provide superior entertainment than a wayside inn if I should happen to be stranded by the snow. I admit I expected to find better accommodations, or at least a few servants about the place. But I could forgive Julian if I thought he truly was thinking of my comfort. Did he arrange for you to be here for a purpose, by any chance?"
    Brie didn't answer. She couldn't seem to think straight when Stanton was looking at her with those penetrating gray eyes of his. His assessing gaze was doing strange things to her pulse again, while his voice was sending shivers up her spine. In an unconsciously defensive gesture, Brie pulled the edges of her robe together. When Dominic rose from his chair with a lazy grace, she tensed, watching him warily.
    He trapped her gaze as he slowly walked toward her. When he stood before her, Brie stared up at him, hypnotized. She was keenly aware of his proximity, of what his nearness was doing to her, yet it wasn't the raw hunger she could feel in him that shocked her. It was the primitive, entirely feminine response of her own body. A tingling, treacherous heat was snaking along her skin and gathering in places that, until now, she had hardly known existed.
    He was regarding her intently, his gray eyes holding a strange glow as one of his dark brows rose slightly in question. He reached down to touch her cheek, then languidly trailed an index finger down her throat.
    Brie jumped as if she had been scalded, suddenly realizing what his quizzical look meant. He