“Didyou know who I was that night at the inn, Rosalinde?” he asked with a frown.
She huffed out her breath. “You asked me that already.”
“And this is the last time I will do so. Did you know?”
“No,” she said, not blinking, not breaking her gaze, all but willing him to see the truth. His face relaxed, as if he was relieved to believe her. “Didyou?”
“No,” he said, with just as much certainty and honesty as she had. He leaned a little closer as they danced. “But I will tell you, Rosalinde, even if I had known your identity, I might have done the same thing. Because I wanted you. And God help me, I still do.”
Chapter Nine
Gray had tried to talk himself out of this wild plan of seduction. He’d tried to find some other way to deal not only with his brother, but also with the rapidly escalating desire he felt for Rosalinde. But nothing had changed in the past few days, no matter what he did.
He avoided Rosalinde, and he still dreamed of her. He tried to distract himself and she was still in the corners of his mind. And now he was here and there was no going back.
She blinked as she stared up at him. He expression was one of surprise at his admission, but not disregard or disappointment. The woman was off kilter if the way she stumbled in her steps was any indication.
And that’s what he wanted. To keep her off her game so that he could obtain both what he desired and needed.
She licked her lips and his groin clenched. Goddamn, but she was beautiful.
“Do you still want me, Rosalinde?” he asked, softer, more seductive.
She opened and shut her mouth, then turned her face. “This is—we shouldn’t talk about this here,” she gasped out.
“Then where?” he asked, sliding his fingers across the swell of her hip in what he knew was an entirely inappropriate way. But she shivered at the intimacy, known only to her. “Your bedroom?”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t respond.
“Oh, that’s right,” he continued. “You share a bedroom with Celia. Then mine.”
Her lashes kept fluttering wildly against her cheeks, like she was searching for purchase. “I—Gray…”
He could hardly contain himself when she said his name. Especially in that breathless tone that sounded so much like she’d sounded in his bed less than a week before.
“Tell me you don’t want that, Rosalinde,” he pressed, ignoring all semblance of propriety and any boundaries that should have stopped him. “That you haven’t dreamed of our night together since we parted.”
“I—” Her voice broke, almost on a sob. “I can’t tell you that.”
The admission was like a gunshot, cutting through all other sound, breaking off any attention he might have been paying to those around them. He reveled in the fact that she wanted him. In that moment, nothing else on heaven or earth mattered.
“The song has ended,” she whispered.
He froze and realized she was correct. The other dancers were beginning to bow to each other and make their way from the floor. He released her from the embrace of the waltz and instead slid her hand into the crook of his arm. He had to take her back to her grandfather now. It was twenty paces there, give or take.
He was running out of time.
“What if we could do it again?”
Her body stiffened. “Again?”
“Oh yes,” he groaned, wishing he couldn’t picture that exchange so perfectly. “Would you do something sowild, Mrs. Wilde?”
Her grandfather was now ten paces before them. He had a scowl on his face that he seemed to reserve especially for Rosalinde. Gray could feel her grow even more tense as they approached him.
“Gray—”
“Don’t answer now,” he interrupted. “Just think about it.”
