She took a step back, and then another. Her eyes had widened. Her breath came fast.
“I must go... dance with George.”
Dom groaned. “Can I at least escort you?” It was a question he’d asked just a few hours ago, prompting an immediate refusal.
But not this time. She nodded, even reached for him, wrapping her arm around his as they had the night of her birthday, as if they were setting out on a chaperoned walk in a London park. But tonight she held onto him tighter than propriety would ever allow, as if he might steady her.
“Are you all right, Tess?” he whispered.
She shot him an odd look. “After I dance with George, I have a question for you.”
Dom dared to place his bare hand over hers where she held onto his arm. “Of course. You can ask me anything. I’ll look forward to it.” And grit his teeth while he watched her dance with that damned blighter, George.
Tess barely heard the music and all but forgot the steps as she danced around the bonfire with her hand clasped in George Faircross’s.
As they weaved and turned, she sought a sight of Dominic.
Every time she spotted him standing among those gathered to watch the dancers, his chiseled features gilded in fire glow,her body hummed with a wild hunger for him. Each glimpse of him sparked a warm fizz in her blood, a pulsing need in her core.
It was as if she’d plucked at a bit of ribbon, tugged ever so slightly, and now the whole knot of control she’d kept over herself—her passions and yearnings—had begun to unravel. And she remembered now how fierce and powerful that part of her was. She didn’t want to repress it anymore. She didn’t want to deny herself or the desire she felt for the first time in such a long while.
This isn’t the same.She repeated that to herself like a vow. If she gave in to her feelings for Dominic, it wouldn’t be the same. She was going into every moment of it with her eyes open. Not naive and gullible. She was older, wiser, and willing to set rules and boundaries.
It’s why she needed to speak to him. She needed to know what the parameters would be. If they could agree to expectations and outcomes, then she could give herself to this... hunger without fear that she’d lose herself again. Lose her heart again.
George pulled one way as Tess’s body tried to go the other, and she smiled apologetically at him.
Then, past his shoulder, she noticed Dominic and Priscilla Walcott standing next to each other. She smiled as she said something to him, but he only spared her a glance before turning his attention back to Tess.
That was heady. They’d shared nothing but one kiss and yet the attraction they shared was palpable, and she was thrilled at the proof that it was entirely mutual.
When the guitarist and flutist brought the song to an end, Tess offered George a dutiful thanks for the dance.
“Shall we go again?” he asked eagerly.
“No.” She tried for a soft tone. “I’m promised for the next dance.”
Like an arrow shot straight and true, he turned and pinned Dominic with a look.
“Hope he treats you right, Tess,” George told her, his voice tight, his gaze still locked on Dominic. Then he turned to her with a pitying look in his eyes. “Not like the other one.”
Tess gritted her teeth and suddenly felt very much like Tristan because suddenly all she could think about was punching George Faircross in the nose.
“Thank you for your concern.” She spun on her heel and beelined straight for Dominic.
Priscilla, standing at his elbow, offered Tess a smile in greeting. “Miss Hawthorne.”
“Miss Walcott,” Tess said with a smile and a nod, but all of her attention was truly on Dominic, as his was on her. He lifted his hand out as she approached.
“Ready for our dance?” he asked warmly.
“I am.” She slid her hand into his, and felt a shot of heat up her arm when he clasped it tight, stroking his thumb inside the cup of her palm. “Excuse us,” she told Priscilla.
“Enjoy your dance.” Priscilla shifted her glance between the two of them and strode off to the food stalls.
Tess led Dominic through the gaggle that had gathered for the bonfire. A few offered them cider, but Tess shook her head and kept moving farther into the field.
They were moving away from the dancing, away from the bonfire, but Dominic didn’t seem to mind.
