Martin saw Amanda the instant he entered Helen Hennessy's drawing room. She was standing to one side of the hearth; the light from a candelabra on the mantelpiece fell full on her, bathing her in golden light.

The effect of seeing her surprised him-the sudden clench of possessiveness, the unexpected visceral tug. He shook the sensations aside; his cynically amused mask in place, he strolled forward to greet his hostess.

Helen was delighted to see him. She chatted, drawing his attention to three separate experienced ladies who were attending that night. "They'd each and every one be delighted to make your acquaintance."

She glanced at him, one brow raised. Martin barely glanced at the ladies in question. "Not tonight."

Helen sighed. "I don't know whether to applaud or pout-your reticence only heightens their interest, as you well know, but continued refusals to engage… well, it does call into question my ability to deliver."

"You always deliver in the end, my dear, as I'm quite sure your ladies know. But tonight they'll have to make do with someone else's talents. I…"-Martin considered Amanda, a golden angel dispensing smiles and laughter upon her captives-"have other fish to fry."

He looked at Helen before, intrigued, she could follow his gaze. "And no, you needn't wonder. I suspect the role I'm scripted to play is that of knight-protector, not demon lover."

"How fascinating." Helen opened her eyes wide, then smiled. "Very well. You have my permission to dispense your favors as you wish-not that you'd listen to any edicts otherwise. But beware!" She slanted him an arch glance as she turned to greet another guest. "You know what they say of rakehells visited by a sudden urge to reform."

He didn't know and didn't need to. The warning faded from his mind as he ambled through the crowd, ostensibly looking the ladies over, in truth watching just one.