"You may," she said, placing her gloved hand in his. "But I make no promises about the state of your feet when we finish."
He smiled as he led her onto the floor. "I accept the risk."
The music began, a stately waltz with swelling violins and a soft heartbeat of percussion.
They moved together, fluid and effortless. Alexandra, despite her threat, found herself enjoying the dance. He was an excellent partner. Confident, capable, and maddeningly in sync with her every step.
"You did not try to step on my foot," Lord Langley observed halfway through.
"I haven’t ruled it out."
"You know, if you truly wished to frighten me off, you might try snarling. Or carrying a parasol tipped with poison."
"I was considering a blunt object,” she said.
He chuckled. "How refreshing you are."
"Is that your idea of flirtation? Comparing me to a spring breeze or a cool draught?"
"I was thinking more of a lightning strike. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Beautiful."
She blinked.
Damn him.
Worse, she smiled.
It was brief. Just a flicker of amusement. But he saw it.
"Aha," he said triumphantly.
"You imagined that.” She averted her gaze.
"No, no. That was a smile."
"A twitch,” she said, her gaze returning to his.
"A delightful one."
“Do not make too much of it, Langley. I have smiled at footmen before."
"Were they as devastatingly handsome as I am?"
"They had the benefit of proper instruction."
He laughed, and the sound settled far too close to her heart.
The music drew to a close, and he guided her off the dance floor with infuriating care.
"Another round?" he asked.
"Of what? Sarcasm or torment?"
“Dancing." He offered a rebellious grin.
"Not a chance,” she said.
"Then may I fetch you punch?"
