He would have to dance with her.
“Of course,” he replied with a tight grin. He took hold of her hand, ignoring the low howls of protest from the others.
Julian led Caroline onto the dance floor as a waltz was beginning, and in one deftly timed move, pulled her roughly into his arms. He ignored her squeal of protest. As far as he was concerned, she had not made her stipulations about the dance clear enough.
“Lord Newhall, don’t hold me so tightly,” she said.
“Shut up and dance,” he replied.
Her other muttered protests were fortunately drowned out by the orchestra. When a frustrated Caroline attempted to stomp on his foot, Julian nipped the side of her evening slipper with his boot. He felt a wicked sense of satisfaction as his boot connected with her delicate foot. “Mind your feet, Miss Saunders. You could do yourself some harm.”
He spun her into a tight turn, and her arms flayed about as she struggled to hold onto him. Of course, he knew exactly what he was doing; his grip was sure. He was more than content to insult her on the dance floor, but he would not stoop to actually letting her fall.
At the next turn she managed to stay with him, while also avoiding getting her feet under Julian’s large boots. He raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. She was a skilled dancer. And a fighter.
Caroline refused to meet his gaze. Instead she smiled at all the other couples that they passed by. While she had a smile plastered firmly on her face, he was certain he heard her mutter “blackguard” as he swept her into another turn of the waltz.
When the music finally came to an end a short time later, Julian slowed through the final turn and set Caroline safely back on her feet. They applauded the orchestra. He then looked down at her and took in the expression of anger which was locked on her face. Her jaw was set hard and her lips tightly held together. She was furious.
Julian, silently enjoying his moment of triumph, simply smiled back at her.
As the other guests wandered from the dance floor, Caroline stood where she was. Julian waited for the customary curtsey from his lady partner, but her hands were locked tight in fists of rage. “You. You fool of a man,” she stammered.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, I have several degrees from the University of Edinburgh, so I am no one’s fool, least of all yours, Miss Saunders. You demanded that I dance with you, and that is exactly what I did. Nothing more and nothing less.”
Her cheeks turned from a soft pale pink to bright red. He could hear her breathing heavily, the air sucking in through her nose and out through her mouth. “How dare you? You brute of a man. I shall never speak to you again.”
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“One can only live in hope of such pleasure,” he replied.
The gasp which came from her lips made Julian’s night complete. He wished someone would hand him a glass of champagne and a medal for his efforts.
“You are the rudest man I have ever met. You flung me around the dance floor like a wet dishrag. I shall never ever speak to you again,” she bit back.
“And yet, your lips are still moving. Really, Miss Saunders, you should make up your mind,” he replied.
At this, his last and most satisfying retort, Julian stepped back and began to walk away. Hell would freeze over before he bowed to the Ice Queen again.
As he headed toward the supper room in search of a sweet cake, he turned one last time and watched with disgust as Caroline’s group of admirers all rushed across the floor and gathered around her.
“Fools,” he muttered.
But just as the last of her court stepped in close, and Caroline was lost from his sight, Julian could have sworn that she was still staring at him. And was that a soft grin he saw on her lips?
No. He must have imagined it.
