Was it her, or did a tremor run through him? No, certainly not. It must be the flicker of the lantern light.
Finally he reached out, took her fingers in a tentative grip.
Immediate heat shot through her, so intense she nearly gasped. His fingers tightened on hers. When she looked up at him, the flames from the lanterns burned in his eyes, doubling, until it appeared he was burning from the inside.
She swallowed hard, for a moment unable to speak. The darkness beyond their small pool of light made it feel as though they were the only two people in existence, nearly overwhelming in its intimacy.
Squaring her shoulders, determined to get this over and done with, she began her instructions. She ignored as best she could the urge to lean in closer as they linked hands for the double-handed promenade, tamped down on the desire to drag in the scent of him when they passed one another.
They ran through the dance several times, then shifted to a cotillion. At the end of nearly two exhausting hours, she guided him through the last steps of a minuet and stepped back, grateful for the distance between them. “That dance is quite old-fashioned, but the master of ceremonies likes to do things right and start the ball with it.” She moved toward her lantern, trying to keep her steps slow so she wouldn’t betray her desperate desire to get away from him. “But it grows late, and I’m sure Lady Tesh will like us all to get into town bright and early tomorrow. Good night.” Relief coursed through her as she curtsied and made to turn for the door. She was almost free, would be able to breathe again.
“What of the waltz?”
She froze, the lantern swinging in a wild arc as her feet skid to an abrupt halt. Without turning to face him, she said, her voice low, “You don’t wish to learn the waltz.”
“I assure you, I do.”
There was something intimate in his tone. It worked over her skin, pimpling it with awareness. There went that tugging again, that invisible string that seemed to pull her to him no matter that her head didn’t want to go. Desperate to escape before she lost the will to, she straightened her shoulders and tried once more, hoping that by imparting stiffness to her tone, he would understand that there would be no closeness between them—and that she would as well.
“I’m tired, sir, and it’s late. I assure you, you’ll do just fine with the dances I’ve taught you tonight.”
“I wish to learn it.”
But she was gaining control over herself now, tucking those errant, traitorous emotions back in their box. She took a deep breath, determined to leave.
Until…
“Please.”
She could no more ignore that one word than she could stop the sun from rising in the morn.
As if in a trance, she turned to face him, moved toward him. In a few steps, she was before him again.
But though she longed to fall into his arms, there was still one small part of her that held on to logic, one bit that had not completely let go of all good sense.
“I don’t know if this is wise,” she whispered.
He stared down at her like a starving man, the fire in his eyes so much brighter than before, seeming to have been dredged up from the very depths of his soul. “To hell with wise,” he rasped.
She drew in a shuddering breath as the last of her will evaporated like mist. But she couldn’t move that last step, couldn’t step off the edge and leap.
He did it for her, moving so close she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. “Teach me.”
She didn’t know how the words came, her mouth was so dry. “Put your left hand at my waist.”
He did as she instructed. His palm burned through the layers of her clothes.
“Now take my hand in your right.”
In a moment, her fingers were in his grasp. “Like this?” he breathed.
She nodded, unable to look away from his face. “Yes.”
His fingers flexed on her waist, tightened on her hand. He took a step closer.
She breathed in a deep, shuddering breath. His own scent of spice filled her, made her dizzy with longing. “That’s a bit too close for this dance,” she managed.
He moved even closer. “And this?”
