Eoin managed a quirk of the mouth at that. His friend was right. That’s what he should be focusing on. But he would have his chance to impress Bruce tomorrow. The hunt would be an opportunity to prove himself.
He turned back to the ladies just in time to hear his sister’s snide remark about Lady Margaret’s dancing.
His mouth flattened with distaste. The not-so-nice comments that he’d forgiven as girlish insensitivity when Marjory was six and ten, three years later were beginning to sound spiteful and mean. His sister needed to learn to curb that acid tongue of hers.
Unfortunately, Marjory’s was not the only unflattering remark he’d heard about Lady Margaret over the past week. He felt bad, knowing that he was partly to blame for providing the fodder. She might have laughed off his unfortunate choice of words, but the rest of court had not. The gossip didn’t seem to bother her though, and he couldn’t help but admire the way she smiled in the face of their rudeness. His sister would be in tears were she subject to half the unkind words he’d heard spoken about Lady Margaret.
He was just about to admonish his sister when he noticed the lady in question moving toward them. The heightened color on her cheeks left him no doubt that Lady Margaret had heard what his sister had said, and from the determination in her expression, he sensed she was no longer of the mind to laugh it off.
Whether he was trying to protect his sister or Lady Margaret he didn’t know, but without thinking he stepped in front of her. “Would you honor me with the first dance, my lady?”
He could hear his sister’s gasp of surprise behind him. He hated dancing, and thus far had avoided it.
Lady Margaret stared at him, her sphinxlike golden eyes burning into his. For a moment he thought she might refuse. Clearly she wanted to give his sister a tongue-lashing. And though it was deserved, it wouldn’t do for either of them.
The last thing Lady Margaret needed was more negative attention to fuel the fires of the court gossip. Maybe she realized it as well. After a long, uncomfortable pause, she nodded.
His sister could thank him later, for he knew without a doubt that he’d saved her from a setting down she would not soon forget.
But the instant Lady Margaret’s soft hand slid into his, Eoin knew he’d made a mistake. He should have let his sister take the public flogging. Instead, he’d opened Pandora’s box, releasing something that would never be contained again.
The shock that ran through him at the contact was akin to a bolt of lightning. Amagneticbolt of lightning. It drew them together in a way that could not be denied.
Something jammed in his chest. His lungs seemed to have stopped working. But his heart made up for it with the frantic pounding. He was riveted—utterly spellbound. Eoin forgot that he was dancing—forgot that he didn’t even like dancing—forgot the music, and forgot the other people around him. As he led her through the steps of the reel, he couldn’t look away from her face. The delicate sweep of her cheek, the soft point of her chin, the slightly turned up nose.
The sensual curve of her mouth.
Damn it, she was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. Parts of his bodydidhurt. His chest, for one, and another part that had swelled with heat and was hard as a rock, oblivious to the fact that they were in a crowded ballroom.
But he was beyond all reason, caught up in an almost dreamlike trance. Ahot, dreamlike trance of powerful attraction that sent fire racing through his veins.
Their bodies moved together as one. There was no need to talk. What was being said between them was in every glance, every touch, every heartbeat.
The bond held them together until the music stopped.
The music stopped. Damn it. He released her so suddenly she gave a small, startled gasp.
She stepped back, staring at him with a look on her face that was every bit as stunned as he was feeling. “Th-thank you,” she whispered, her breath falling unevenly from beneath her softly parted lips.
God, they were so red and sweet looking. A fierce swell of desire rose inside him. The urge to cover them with his was so powerful—so elemental—he could think of nothing else. He lowered his head a few inches before a split second of sanity recalled his surroundings, and he stopped himself.
Bloody hell. He might have said it aloud. What had just happened? It wasn’t a question the man who was supposed to be the smartest in the room found himself asking very often. But he couldn’t think straight—or in any other direction, for that matter. His mind was reeling.
With a nod that was sharper than he intended, he walked away.
While he still could.
Margaret’s heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath or stop shaking.
What had just happened?
Other than feel as if every one her senses had just come alive, she didn’t know. It had left her rattled—almost panicked.
Needing to collect herself, she fled the Hall.
She felt close to tears, as if she’d just gone through a tremendous emotional upheaval. Which maybe she had. What she’d just experienced hadn’t been a gentle awakening of emotion, it had been like a giant church bell going off in a small ambry. Loud, clamoring, reverberating... devastating.
The feelings had been so intense. So powerful. So overwhelming. She’d felt bound to him. Connected. As if they were the only two people in the world.
