Page 48 of Gabriela and His Grace

“We can look foolish together, then,” she proclaimed, extending him a hand.

The duke stared down at her hand for a moment and then slid his pale blue eyes up to meet hers. Her palm already prickled with awareness, and he’d yet to touch her.

Whitfield slid his fingers around hers. “Let’s be fools together.”

• • •

Sebastian had no idea what he was doing, but he was very happy to be doing it.

How could he not be when Gabriela looked at him like that? With that radiant expression she had never directed his way because he’d ruined any goodwill she may have felt toward him by acting with his cock and not his head.

He didn’t have a chance to contemplate the thawing of their animosity because the dance’s steps required all his concentration. They were unlike anything Sebastian had ever danced before, and involved a dramatic stomping, tapping, and spinning. Everything about dancing the waltz was stately and refined, but el jarabe tapatío was infused with life. With vitality. It was a dance that was made for Gabriela, who was the most vibrant person Sebastian had ever met.

Even now, as she twirled her bulky skirts as best she could and kicked her slippered feet in a close approximation of the steps the other couples were engaged in, she glowed. Gone was the brokenhearted young woman he’d watched flee the Ortizes’ opulent home, and in her place was this vivacious beauty who was beaming her brightest smile at him. At Sebastian, who had only ever earned her scowls. He wanted to hold his breath, afraid that, like a bubble, her esteem would not last.

Yanking his gaze away from her spirited face, Sebastian studied the other dancers, determined to mimic their movements. The man and woman next to them moved toward each other on the beat, their heads angled as if to kiss. They danced one, two beats, and then twirled apart.

Sebastian rotated until he faced Gabriela again, and she seemed to read the intention on his face because she arched a brow. When the tempo swelled, he moved close to her, his eyes fixed on hers while he tilted his chin. His heart skipped a beat when she did the same, her face so close he could count the smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose. Without conscious thought, Sebastian glanced down at her mouth. He’d noticed it before—of course he had, he was no monk—but never had her lips looked so perfectly kissable. It would be just a move of inches to claim her mouth, as his mind and body had been begging him to do since…forever.

Christ. Sebastian somehow managed to use the movements of the dance to save him from making a fool of himself in front of every resident of San Luis Potosí in attendance, for he knew Gabriela would not take kindly to being kissed against her will. Wasn’t that why she was in Mexico now? Because another supposed gentleman had thought to take advantage of her? He refused to be so boorish.

Thankfully, Sebastian was not required to touch her. If they had danced a waltz together, he would be free to rest his hand on her waist. To touch her palm to his. To feel her body step and sway in harmony with the music. But the damn el jarabe tapatío required him to have his hands knotted behind his back. To have her so temptingly close but so far away made it the most frustrating dance Sebastian had ever engaged in.

They moved together again, and this time Gabriela positioned her chin so that her mouth was at the right height and angle to be kissed. He clamped his eyes shut to block out the temptation, but Sebastian could not stop her violet and amber perfume from filling his lungs. Her luscious scent seemed to settle on his tongue and twirl about his mouth.

Sebastian almost groaned aloud at the taste.

His eyes shot open in time to catch the playful light that flashed in her hazel gaze before she pivoted away. What had he gotten himself into? Sebastian had managed to spend three weeks with Gabriela Luna, and a single dance, one that prohibited him from touching her, threatened to be his undoing. As it was, his wild attraction to her was making itself inconveniently known, and Sebastian prayed the dance would end soon before he embarrassed himself.

For once Providence heard his plea, and the last strums of the string instruments reverberated through the air. With a dramatic flourish, Gabriela grasped her skirts and sank into a graceful curtsy.

“That was…” She peered about them before meeting his gaze. “Fun.”

Widening his stance, and hoping to relieve his straining cock, Sebastian said, “Once again, you sound surprised.”

“Because you’re making a habit of surprising me, Your Grace.” She shook out the fall of her dress and adjusted the fit of her gloves. “I thought perhaps we’d be so concerned with the correct footwork and movements that we wouldn’t enjoy the dance itself. But after a while, I didn’t even care if I was doing it right.”

“Neither did I,” Sebastian chuckled. “As I’m sure you could tell.”

“I thought you were very elegant.”

He went still, even as he battled a grin. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Gabriela cut him a sharp look. “We both know you heard me.”

“I beg to differ,” Sebastian pushed, daring to move closer. “Would you be so kind as to repeat it?”

Raising her hand, Gabriela poked him in the center of his chest. “I said you’re an arse.”

In a flash, Sebastian grabbed her wrist and reeled her against his chest. He expected her to be surprised, maybe pull back and attempt to step away from him. But instead, Gabriela’s eyes dropped to his mouth for an electric instant, and then slowly rose to meet his.

God damn this woman.

Wetting his lips, he whispered, “You always have the prettiest compliments to share with others but never with me, and I find myself hungry for them.”

As double entendres went, his was heavy-handed. But this seemed to delight Gabby, because she giggled.

“I am very generous with my praise.” Her voice dropped further when she said, “But compliments taste much sweeter when they’ve been earned.”