“I’ll take your word for it.”
With a chuckle, James rotated her about with a deep sweeping turn. His knee dipping between her thighs, the friction of her petticoats against silk stockings sending a sizzle of pleasure down her legs. His grin turned devilish as if he could sense her surprise and he did it again, the breadth of his hard thigh between hers.
“James,” she hissed, “I don’t believe that is at all proper.”
“Sometimes a man has to follow his instincts instead of opera singers,” he said, a hint of a dimple slashing his cheek. He drew her closer through another turn and her breasts grazed his chest.
It was difficult not to be exhilarated by his attentions. To not have those fantasies she’d pushed aside earlier reignite and enflame her all over. Prim silently reminded herself again and again. James wasn’t courting her, merely playing at it. He might toy with her and tease her but he would never marry a woman like her.
His reaction when she’d so awkwardly made her proposal of courtship and he’d thought her in earnest showed the truth in that.
Which was fine with her. She didn’t want marriage.
But there were those other fantasies encroaching into her thoughts as well. Ones not so proper. What might it be like to have a man like James in her arms? In her bed?
In her heart?
Her heart beat hard against her chest, the jolt set her atremble. She knew he noticed it, too. His arms tightened around her. His eyes no longer amused, but glittering intensely.
Afraid she was making a fool of herself, Prim stepped out of his arms when the waltz ended. She dropped a proper curtsy. “Thank you for the dance.”
“Dismissing me already?” he asked. “We’ve only just begun.”
Taking her hand, he tucked it into the crook of his arm. He turned her away from her entourage and led her toward the far end of the ballroom.
His attentiveness garnered notice, even more since he didn’t abandon her after the dance. Prim could see the speculative looks here and there as they passed among the throng surrounding the dance floor. The raised fans concealing murmured gossip as he kept her by his side, or guided her with a solicitous hand rested on the small of her back.
She’d never been subjected to such scrutiny. Even when Fletcher had wooed her a decade before. The attention was disconcerting, but Prim squared her shoulders, reminding herself she had nothing to be ashamed of. For his part, James was a perfect gentleman. There was nothing furtive about him, nothing that cried out an illicit entanglement.
But every brush of his hand on her arm, on her back…every whisper tickling her ear when he leaned in to murmur teasing commentary in her ear, set her nerves on edge. Some part of her told her she was treading where she ought not go. An awareness like an explorer might have climbing a volcano that was about to blow.
Primal instinct told her to take what she wanted.
Another pleaded with her to run.
Like startled prey. She’d sensed the danger before. questioned the prudence of taking up with someone like James.
While he tempted her to do so much she longed to, he also lured her into so much more. But admitting she might want him wasn’t so large a step as making it so. So much more than her reputation was at stake.
They worked their way across the room, stopping along every so often. They made small talk here and there. James introduced her to a few businessmen she didn’t know. She presented him to some of her friends.
He charmed them as easily as he’d charmed her. But his focus never wavered from her. All his warm looks, his smiles were for her, appearing for all the world like a man besotted.
Someone like him with his seductive words of praise and encouragement would be so easy to love.
As easy as it would be to end up heartbroken when he grew bored by her dilemma and went on his way once more.
“Are you all right?” His breath brushed against her ear. “You’ve grown quiet.”
“I’m quite all right,” she croaked. “A tad thirsty, I think.”
James excused them from the ladies they were talking to and led her out of the crowded ballroom. Only stopping to snatch up a pair of champagne flutes from a passing waiter’s tray, he ushered her through a series of open reception rooms. The crush lessened with each one until they reached the conservatory at the rear of the mansion. Only a few couples wandered here, in and out of the stone pathways winding around the profuse greenery. The air cooled with only the ornate stained glass of the walls and ceiling between them and the cold December night.
“Better?” James asked kindly, handing her a glass of the bubbly. “Harkness is a fool to have so many of the fireplaces lit with such a crowd here.”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Good.” He clinked his glass lightly on the edge of hers. “To our courtship. Things appear to be going well, I think.”
