Carstairs watched her with a warm smile curling the corners of his mouth. He was handsome, his features noble. In another context she might have found him disconcertingly attractive. But this was the man who had bought her virgin night. All she felt was fear. No, no that wasn’t quite true. Underneath that was another emotion she couldn’t quite identify. A tingling sort of awareness. Her heart was still beating too fast, and as she drew in deep, shuddering breaths she suddenly found she could smell a fresh, masculine scent of sandalwood and male that must surely be him. The tension built higher and higher as he held her gaze. She felt heat rising to her cheeks. She wanted to press her chilly fingertips to them yet she held still, captivated. She stopped breathing altogether. What could she say? Was there anything one could say in such a situation? Finally it was he who looked away, out at the passing street.
