It was only her and Bran now.
As if following a dance of their own choreography, they each took a step forward. Then another and another, only stopping once they’d come within reaching distance. The discipline it took to stop there … Had they ever?
She searched his golden eyes for a sign—a clue how the conversation would proceed. Determination shone out at her. Uncertainty, too. And something else … something she wasn’t brave enough to hope for—not yet.
“You came,” she said.
“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
A trembly smile pulled at her mouth. “I didn’t take you for one who would enjoy the frivolity of a fancy-dress ball.”
It was a leading statement, even a slightly manipulative one, but necessary. She needed to know if deeper motives were at play on his part—or if she was the only one. The couples waltzing around the ballroom weren’t the only ones engaged in a dance.
“It wasn’t the ball I didn’t want to miss,” he said, his voice deep, crushed velvet. “Or the pleasure of Sir Abstrupus’s company.”
A too-attractive smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
Heat flared through her to the tips of her ears.Oh.A couple on the dancing floor caught the edge of her eye. If she wasn’t misremembering her historical characters, they were dressed as Antony and Cleopatra. Her brow wrinkled. “Is that Lady Gwyneth?”
“Aye.”
“With her young baron?” At least, Artemis hoped so. One couldn’t mistake the besotted expression on Lady Gwyneth’s face as she gazed up at her beloved.
Bran nodded. “They are betrothed.”
“Good.” A thought came to her. “Do you suppose he was the first man she ever danced with?”
She felt the heat of Bran’s gaze on the side of her face. “I suppose.”
Though his words weren’t phrased as a question, a question hung within.
“Perhaps …” Artemis wasn’t best pleased where her thought was leading this conversation. “Perhaps it isn’t a good idea for a young lady to fall in love with the first man she ever dances with.”
The air between them went still and tense with the words she’d left unspoken.
Bran was the first man she’d ever danced with—and she’d fallen in love with him.
And perhaps that hadn’t been a good idea.
Still, she felt the burn of his gaze on the side of her face. “Do you believe that?” he asked—demanded.
She angled her head so she could meet his eye. She realized she had something to say. “Fast, impetuous love barely has time to delve beneath the surface of a person. It’s attraction based on perception—the flash of a wicked smile … the strong line of a jaw … a scent one finds beguiling … a quick wit … Fast, impetuous love is infatuation.” She hesitated. “It’s lust.”
He’d moved closer as she’d given her little speech, so she now caught his beguiling scent of sandalwood andBran,and a glint in his eye—one that strummed a resonant chord through her. And the subtle smile that curved his mouth …
It was wicked.
And it delved deep below her surface.
“You know this from experience?” he asked, his voice that captivating crushed-velvet rumble.
Familiar places inside her awakened, and she went breathless with sudden, blinding desire. “I do.”
He reached out, and strong, masculine fingers threaded through hers. Without another word, his hand firm around hers—his touch sending tiny flashes of lightning through her veins—they edged around the periphery of the crowd until they were stepping through the double doors open to cooling air. Having caught a scent that demanded exploring, Bathsheba nosed around them and raced into the night.
Other couples meandered about the terrace, enjoying a respite from the crowded humidity of the ballroom. The urgent need to be alone kept them moving, for the madness they inspired in one another chased them and demanded its due. Down a short set of stairs and around one corner and then another—their hands tightly clutched—they found it—a place where the music was muted and it was only them … and their madness for one another.
He backed her against the stone wall and gently took her face in his large hand, his golden eyes so intense upon hers. Then he kissed her, and all the pent-up emotion of the last few weeks released between them as their bodies stretched along the length of each other … his hard, hers yielding … her fingers twined through the hair that curled at the nape of his neck … his other hand upon the indent of her waist, holding firm.
