“A few country dances, and a reel.”
She tapped her lip with a finger.“Then you should learn the quadrille, perhaps the cotillion.And the newest dance, although not included at the more formal balls, is the waltz.”
“Why would certain dances be excluded?”
“The waltz has not been accepted by the society matrons.They consider it very risqué.”She widened her eyes in mock horror.
“Why?”he asked with a head tilt.
“I assume because the dance partners remain in one pair the whole dance, and they dance rather close.”
He grimaced.“Given that I don’t know it, that sounds somewhat dangerous to my partner.”
She chuckled.“If you can dance the livelier dances and weave between partners, you’ll be fine with the new dance.”Stepping toward him, she said, “Let us practice without music for a moment.This one follows three-quarter time and has a basic box step.”
He sidled closer, uncertain.His trousers went tight as his shaft showed no such uncertainty in wanting to brush against her.
She raised her right hand out at almost shoulder height.“There are several hand positions, but for now, we’ll start with one.Give me your hand here, with the other at the same height, bent elbow, hand near my shoulder.”
His brows rose, but he did as she said, his cock continuing to lengthen and harden in his trousers.
She sucked in a breath at the touch of his hand on her arm.
That touch—so close to a lady’s torso and possibly on skin depending on the length of her gloves—must be the reason the dance was deemed inappropriate for polite company.As he stood, her skin warm under his hand through her dress and her small fingers wrapping around his other hand, he understood why.Any closer and she’d feel his body’s reaction.
Her left hand came to his bent arm, and both their gazes followed it.Her hand appeared tiny against his sleeve.His biceps flexed in reaction to her touch, and he saw and felt her fingers clench in an infinitesimal squeeze as they dug into his hard muscle.
She shifted a half inch closer to set her feet in line with his and he nearly reared back, worried his cock might poke her.
Nodding to him, she seemed oblivious when she said, “Watch my feet and follow them with yours.”
Taking him through the basic waltz steps, she kept their “boxes” of steps all facing one direction for several counts.Then she showed him a basic quarter turn.After a few circles and squares, she stopped them and dropped her hands.
Cool air wafted over him.He blinked, missing her smiling face so near, her skin against his roughened hand, the hot brand of her other hand on his arm.
She said, “Generally, of course, you shall lead.However, I can lead the first few times if you’d prefer.”
“I’m willing to try.I might as well start as I mean to go on.”
She called to the musicians to play something in three-fourths time, keeping it slow.They nodded and conferred, then set their bows to their instruments.
Stepping back to him as the first notes rang out, she curtsied.He caught on quickly and bowed.She raised her arms.
He met her frame, relishing the return of the contact.Damn, he loved her hair, even scraped back into a severe knot.Stepping forward and into the dance, he tried to keep her gaze, only glancing down when he made the quarter turns to rotate them and move around the floor.
She smiled.“You’re doing so well, Rutland.You are a quick study in this, as with everything.”
His hand had a mind of its own and began to stray along her back, creating a subtle but inexorable draw toward him.Feeling the knobs of her spine, he rubbed his first two fingers along them.If only she was wearing a proper ballgown and not a simple maid’s dress.Then he’d be able to caress her skin and pull her closer, proper frame be damned.
Her mouth opened on an inhale and her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.After a long moment, she admonished him, “Your hand should remain on my upper arm, your elbow out, so I can cling to your biceps…”
He thought she murmured, “…not that I can find purchase.”
However, the music prevented him from being sure.Smiling, he lifted his arm.The scent of lemon verbena used in the cleaning products she worked with daily rose to his nostrils.Her thick hair the color of oiled mahogany begged for him to rub his face along the shiny tresses, bury his nose in it, and wrap it around his fingers to tug on it.
She gasped.
Without conscious thought, he’d tightened their stance further, his hand now pressing into her back and his feet offset with hers.Their hips brushed with each step, her skirts swaying against his legs when she followed him in a step.When they turned, his cock rubbed along her, urging him to lower her to the floor.
