“Don’t say that. We need to talk. If we both want it, there must be a way. Let’s get out of here. Come home with me, please.”
“I can’t leave the ball with you. Quite the scandal that would create. Especially after the scene you caused, alienating everyone to claim a dance you had not requested.”
“To hell with that. All your dances are mine. You are mine.”
“I don’t belong to anyone, my lord. I believe that’s the crux of our problems.”
Just then, the music ended, and they stopped. But he didn’t release her, just stood there in the middle of the ballroom, still holding her by the waist, her hand trapped in his.
“Release me. You’re creating a scene,” she hissed.
Her next dance partner arrived. An amiable gentleman from the north called Mr Granville.
“Lady Thalia, I believe this is my dance.”
“No, it’s not. Go away,” Liam almost snarled at the man.
“Excuse me, my lord?”
“Lord Ashford is joking, Mr Granville. The next dance is, indeed, yours.” She turned to Liam. “You’re welcome to pencil in your name for my next available set, my lord.”
Their eyes met, clashing in a battle of wills. He was trying to dictate to her once again. Take control of her life and her choices. She would not allow it.
“I’d be honored, Lady Thalia,” he said at last, taking the pencil and dancing card hanging from her wrist to write his name with forceful, almost angry, strokes.
And then he turned and marched off the dance floor. Leaving her with Mr Granville, who smiled congenially and offered his arm to lead her into the next dance.
She danced five more dances before it was Liam’s turn again. He had watched her the entire time from the edges of the room. Standing all by himself, no one talked to him, and he seemed not to care. He’d just stood there, looking at her with a possessive gaze. But when he came to claim his dance, instead of dancing, he offered her his arm and led her out of the ballroom. She didn’t object, for she was happy for the respite.
“If your aim is to make amends, this is the exact opposite of what you should do. You are behaving like a boor.”
He took a deep sigh as he led her onto the balcony. “I’m sorry, Thalia. It drives me crazy to see you dance with other men. To watch them put their covetous hands on you. They all want you, but none of them deserves you.”
“And you do?” she asked with a raised brow.
“Maybe not. But I saw you first,” he growled.
“Excuse me, but I’m not a prize to be claimed by the first to arrive.”
“What I meant is that Isawyou. The real you, before any of these fools. They had you right before their eyes for years, and none of them could see past your ghastly gowns. Much less perceive the beauty of your soul.”
“And you did?” This time, the question was soft. Breathless.
He snorted, looking into her eyes. “I saw your external beauty at once. And got a glimpse into your heart during our first conversation.”
“Oh.” Why had he never told her that?
“Let’s go talk in private, please,” he asked as other couples spilled onto the lamp-lit balcony. “Otherwise, I may do something rash, like kissing you here, in front of people.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Wouldn’t I?” he asked softly, his gaze focusing on her lips. They throbbed with the memory of his kisses, as if he were touching them now. “I’m desperate for you, my muse. Let’s go home together, please. Put me out of my misery.”
“I’m not going home with you,” she said firmly, resisting the desire to melt into him. They had things to resolve, and this conversation was too important to allow it to be clouded by passion. “But I guess we can take a stroll in the gardens.”
CHAPTER 25
THANK GOODNESS SHEhad agreed to come out into the gardens with him. As soon as they were out of sight of the glittering ballroom, he pulled her into his arms and crushed her mouth with his. He had spoken the truth. He was desperate for her. The days since he last saw her had been a hell of deprivation.
