“We don’t?”
“When we touch, we always find a rhythm.”
He guided her into the first step, his hand settling at her waist with a familiarity that caught her breath.
Her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“And I thought you wore that exquisite gown to torment me.”
“Charlotte thought deep plum would suit me.”
“It does. A little too much.”
“You seem to like everything I wear.”
“It isn’t the clothes.”
His thumb shifted slightly against her waist, easing the knot in her chest. He wasn’t angry. Not distant or cold.
Yet she didn’t understand why he’d asked her to dance. And while she wanted nothing more than to lean into him, their differences still lay between them.
“I didn’t lie about my reasons for staying at Shadowmere. I was angry and afraid and had nowhere else to go.”
He breathed slowly through his nose. “You should have told me Charlotte offered you an incentive to stay. There would have been no misunderstanding between us then.”
“You said I could use the cottage until we’d caught my father’s killer. And I told you more than once I planned to leave. We spoke of Oxford and Bath.”
“I thought us being lovers changed that.”
Lovers. The word settled in a place reserved for him.
He held her so she could feel his hard body.
“I can’t read minds, Dominic.”
“Yet you live in mine.”
The admission sent a ripple of heat through her. She could not have this conversation—not now. Her emotions were too raw, and they had come here to find a killer.
She steadied herself. “Then perhaps we should focus on why we’re here tonight. Lord Templeton?—”
“I don’t give a damn about Templeton.” His voice cut across hers. “I told him I’d shoot him if I saw him again.”
His fingers gave a brief squeeze as they turned.
“Mrs Foster said my father arranged to meet Lord Templeton on the night he died. A man his size could throw a body over Blackfriars Bridge. And he had motive.”
She felt him stiffen.
“Yes. He wished to hide the deplorable way he treated my mother. Templeton knew I’d kill him if I found out. I still might.”
Her step faltered, but he firmed his grip on her waist.
“I’m quite sure your mother meant to save you, not see you hanged for ridding the world of a wastrel.”
Perhaps the wordmightwas important. Vengeance had been his only goal before … before them. Something had changed.
They turned slowly across the terrace, the lamps casting long shadows over the stone, a faint breeze lifting the hem of her gown. She was reluctant to say more, but he needed to hear the truth.
