“Bravo Mrs. Adare, I could not agree with you more,” Lady Collette said.
The music from the orchestra drifted throughout the long, rectangular room. Gentle strains that sent her toe to tapping.
Telling eyes met hers and a playful smirk drifted across Sophia’s lips. “Unfortunately, my other siblings possess the same winning attributes.”
“Then you’re to be envied your family,” Elizabeth said.
Sophia smiled and took her hand. She gave it an affectionate squeeze before releasing it. “And my new friend.”
Langdon returned with a servant holding a tray full of champagne. His very nearness sent Elizabeth into a tither all over again. She had long ago erected a wall around her heart, but every time he smiled at her, the bricks crumbled. Pathetic.
“Simon, we were just discussing you,” Sophia said, taking a glass and raising it to her smiling lips.
He lifted his own glass and studied the golden liquid before meeting Elizabeth’s questioning stare. “Was Mrs. Adare regaling you about my many skills she had inquired about earlier in the evening?”
“I seemed to recall admiring your skill at, um, navigation. Skill as in singular, not plural.” The flame in her face burned brighter at his veiled reference to their earlier conversation in the study. She wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re the one who bragged about your many accomplishments.”
It pained her to admit it, but he was very skilled at kissing. Even now, her breasts tingled at the mere thought of being held tight to his chest.
Curiosity over their politely worded argument showed in the faces of the other two members of their party and she forced herself to stay in the moment. There was a game of wits afoot, and she had no desire to lose.
Strong brow lifted, amusement lined his stunning eyes. He shrugged his shoulders. Far from put out by her rebuff, he was enjoying himself at her expense.
Well, two could play at the same game. “Actually, I was about to tell your mother about the ghost of Sanderson Keep.”
A scowl replaced his lingering smile.
Sophia stifled a giggle, hazel eyes, so much like her brother’s, lit up.
“Sanderson Keep is haunted,” Lady Collette said with a delightful laugh. “How very thrilling.”
“Mrs. Adare is teasing you mother, there is no ghost at Sanderson Keep.” He shifted from foot to foot and tugged at the cravat around his neck. His aggravation with her was palpable.
“How do you know?” Elizabeth challenged. She was tiring of him discounting her word. “Are you in possession of the third eye?”
Head tilted, he exhaled a visible breath. “I don’t need the third eye to know if the keep is haunted. It is not.”
Lady Collette placed a hand on his arm. “I believe the next dance is the waltz and Mrs. Adare has been tapping her toes since she joined us. Be a dear and take her for a spin about the dancefloor.”
She remembered well what happened the last time he held her tight, and her pulse hummed with anticipation. “I don’t wish to be any trouble.”
“You don’t wish to be any trouble?” he asked with a snort of laughter. Arm out, he waited for her to lay her hand on his sleeve. “I believe you’re too late for that.”
“Be careful what you ask for. You know my propensity for troublesome behavior.” Resigned to the inevitable, Elizabeth gave into the temptation. She placed her gloved hand on the black superfine jacket that fit him to perfection. The heat of his arm invaded her glove and the memory of his amorous embrace rooted itself into her private regions. If she continued her association with him, would they end up being lovers?
He maneuvered her through the throng of people, inquiring eyes watching them. Several women flipped up their fans and put their heads together. From the disapproving glances, it appeared that those gathered already suspected something was afoot. Had Randell not interrupted their tryst, would more have happened? She wasn’t averse to it by any stretch of the imagination. As a widow, she had the right to do what she wished. Under the yoke of responsibility at Waverly, she never considered her future past her father’s death. She was still young, although she felt ancient.
No sooner had they reached the dance floor than she was in his arms once more. What felt like a hundred sets of eyes watched their every move. Elizabeth counted off the steps in her mind.
He strengthened his grip on her waist. “Mrs. Adare, look at me.”
She raised reluctant eyes to his, and her breath caught, her legs wobbly, but not from any physical weakness. She quickly glanced over his shoulder and willed her heart to still its mad beating. Being held by him was as heavenly as she remembered, and she longed to step closer to feel the rise and fall of his breath.
Her nipples contracted at the thought, and an enticing sensation ignited in her womanly core. Her skin felt alive, her lips impossibly thick, and she resisted the urge to close her eyes against the onslaught of raw emotion welling up inside of her.
“Relax, Mrs. Adare,” he said, his low voice sending a thrill up her spine. “You are light of foot; a natural.”
“You won’t be so kind when I tread upon your toes,” she said, forcing the words out of dry lips. How could he be so unaffected, when she was burning with need? She knew he experienced some passion for her, she certainly felt his physical response with her own body. But staring at him now, she spied not a single trace of discomfort in his manner.
