“That is a nice thought.” She was blushing again, but she didn’t care. Just being in his arms had turned the night into something magical.
“It can become a reality if you would say yes.”
She couldn’t deal with this now and struggled to find a change of topic. “Charles seems rather like you.”
He widened his eyes. “You think so?”
“He has that devil-may-care air.”
Peyton grinned. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
She laughed and glanced over to where Charles flirted with a shy young debutante. “He seems to have recovered well from the disappointment over Miss Groton.”
“The young bounce back.” He tightened his clasp on her hand. “We older gentlemen do not.”
Despite his flippant words, he looked troubled, making her want to reach up to touch his cheek. Knowing she was the cause of it, she almost couldn’t bear it. “Peyton, I—”
“Shall we talk when there is no one to overhear us?” he asked, his deep, sensual voice sending tingles through her.
For a moment, she’d almost forgotten where they were. That they were surrounded by an interested audience who had not seen her dance for several years.
When the music died away, Peyton led her from the dance floor. “Will you come with me to the terrace?”
That was entirely too risky. She didn’t trust herself. “My parents will notice.”
“Does it matter? However, I have my doubts. My brother has just made a beeline for your sister.”
“Oh?” Helen laughed. “He will have to stand in line.”
“We Peytons are patient souls.”
“Are you? I don’t remember noticing that quality in you, sir.”
“Not always. Not when there is something we very much want.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Will you come?”
“I need to visit the supper room to make sure everything is going smoothly.”
“There’s no need.” He put a hand to his ear. “Listen.”
She grinned. “Listen to what?”
“The contented sounds emanating from that direction. It appears that no one is loudly complaining of starving to death.”
She conceded and with a laugh, allowed him to guide her out through the doors that led onto the stone terrace overlooking the park.
“We have it to ourselves,” Peyton said. “Arranged perfectly with orchestra taking a break and the guests in at supper.”
She shook her head. “And you are taking credit for that?”
“But of course. Timing is everything.”
“Ho! You are very good at turning an incident to your advantage, Peyton.”
“My sweet,” he said softly, “you have no idea.”
Her face grew hot, and her belly tightened under his passionate gaze. She loved to banter with him. She’d like to do it for the rest of her life. The soft evening breeze stirred the curls at her temple. What was she thinking? She pushed her hair back into place, the raised arch of scar a bitter reminder. Her chest tightened, and she felt slightly ill. The moment when she must tell him the truth was upon her. Then the enjoyment of the evening would be at an end. So soon. She wanted more time. More…of him.
“Peyton, I—”
