“Dance with me?” He reached out a hand.
And then she laughed, sending something light and warm and wonderful flowing through his veins. “Of course, you fool.”
“Take my elbow and it will look as though I’m escorting you to the floor, when in fact you’ll be keeping us both from falling.”
And again, she laughed. But she took his elbow and he managed to lead both of them to the center of the parquet dance floor. And it was not his imagination. The room fell nearly silent.
“Everyone is watching,” she whispered when he turned her into his arms. “Is it because you never dance?”
If she only knew. “It is because everyone is wondering how I am lucky enough to be holding the most beautiful woman here tonight.” Oh, his sweet Olivia.
When she lifted her lashes, tears swam in her eyes. Her exquisitely wonderful eyes. “Please, Gabriel. Don’t say something you don’t really mean.”
But he would be deadly serious with her. The orchestra poised to play but he needed to say this. “I’ve only ever lied to you when I pushed you away. And I’ve lied to myself to imagine I could spend the remainder of my days without you.”
The musicians lifted their bows, drew them across the strings of their instruments and a lilting melody ebbed into the room.
Gabriel lifted his left foot and led her into the steps. Halting at first, but with her assistance, he managed to get them halfway around the floor without incident.
Why had he thought he could do this? What ought to be something romantic and elegant, he feared he’d turned into a bumbling stumble.
“You are counting.” She tilted back her head and smiled.
A smile that had him renewing all his efforts.
“You were saying?”
He grumbled under his breath but gathered the thoughts he’d lost as soon as the orchestra struck up.
“This isn’t all about me. What I want. What I need,” he managed while avoiding a potted plant that seemed to have jumped into their path. “What I love.”
Her breath hitched at his last words.
“It’s all been about me. Up until now.” He cleared his throat but at least had not crushed her toes yet. Toes encased in the most feminine of slippers, he’d noticed earlier.
She tilted her head. “But—”
“What do you want, Olivia? Not what you expect, but what do you want?”
And thank heavens, his feet seemed to be catching on, because at that moment, holding her in his arms, he was terrified to look away from her eyes.
What if she—?
“You,” she said. “Just you.” And then she shyly dropped her stare so that she was examining his cravat.
And he ought to have waited until they were alone. But he could not.
Just as the music ended, he purposefully drew her to a halt, dropped his arms so that he could take her hands in his, and painfully lowered himself onto one knee.
“Miss Olivia Redfield,” His voice sounded surer than it had in over a year. “Will you make me the happiest of men by consenting to be my countess? Will you be my wife, Olivia?” And knowing he was making an utter spectacle of himself, of both of them, gazed up, hoping…
She searched his eyes, both of hers intent upon only him. “You are not afraid?”
“Only that you will say no.” Ah, there it was, that smile again. And he would be the happiest of men if he awoke every morning to it. “Are you afraid?”
She shook her head. “No.” And then, “Yes.” She nodded firmly, laughter dancing in her gaze. “I will marry you, Gabriel Fellowes!”
He would not stay kneeling on the floor like this a second longer. Not when all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms.
