“Valentine’s Day is painful for you too, then,” he said. “I married in January. Anna-Marie died before the end of March.”
“Ah,” she said.
Lady Barbara had never married her lover, he thought, but she had conceived his child. He had married Anna-Marie, but their marriage had never been consummated. She had been too ill. He had made the decision not to distress her by trying to take his conjugal rights. He had shown his love by abstaining.
He got to his feet and held out a hand to Barbara. “Dance with me now,” he said.
She looked up at him in astonishment and laughed. “Dance?” she said. “Here? Now?” She looked about her foolishly. “But there is no music.
“Do you not sing?” he asked. “I can do tolerably well myself.”
She laughed again. But somehow she was on her feet, and her hand was reaching out toward his.
“You will never have waltzed,” he said. “Have you seen it done? Have you heard of it?”
“The vicar’s wife says it is a very improper dance,” she said.
He grinned. “You may judge for yourself in a short while,” he said. “You place a hand on my shoulder, thus.” He raised the hand he held and placed it on his shoulder. “And my hand rests at your waist, as so. I take your other hand in mine like this.”
“This is absurd,” she said, suddenly embarrassed and aware of the emptiness of the room and the closeness of her guest.
“Very,” he said. “All dancing is, if you really think about it. But you want to dance again. You have said so.”
“I would like a star in my pocket too,” she said. “But I never expect to find one there.”
“And just as well too,” he said. “It would doubtless be a mite heavy.”
It was more than absurd, she thought several minutes later after he had taught her the steps and was dancing with her, humming a tune at the same time. It was ridiculous. It was thoroughly improper. It was exhilarating and wonderful.
She stepped on his foot and heard herself giggle.
“Ouch!” he said, and his blue eyes twinkled down into hers as he stopped humming and lost the beat. “If this were a fairy tale, I would be able to snap my fingers and a full orchestra would appear. Alas, this is not a fairy tale.”
“Oh, yes, it is,” she said, not at all realizing what she was saying until she heard the words. They had stopped dancing.
“Yes,” he said, “it is.” And he bent his head and kissed her on the lips.
He had meant it to be just a light gesture of affection. She realized that afterward. Of course that was all he had meant. He had called on her, coversed with her, danced with her. He was about to take his leave. He had kissed her, much as a brother might kiss a sister or one dear friend another.
But she lost her head and immediately pressed her lips closer to his. And then her body was against his and her arms up about his neck, the fingers of one hand in his hair. And his arms came all about her as they had two days before at the lake and his head angled against hers and his mouth opened over hers and he was licking at her lips with his tongue.
She heard herself moan as her mouth opened and his tongue explored its way inside.
And then his mouth was moving away from hers and down over her chin and along her throat. His hands were finding her breasts.
Poor starving fool.Her own thoughts came back to her and she pushed hard against his shoulders and turned her back on him.
“Barbara,” he said after a moment’s silence. “I am so sorry. I had no intention of allowing that to happen. Please believe me. That is not why I came here. I am so sorry.”
She was so ashamed. She hid her face in her hands and closed her eyes tightly. She had not known a man in eight years, had had no dealings with any in all that time. And now she had met a young and good-looking man—the man who would be betrothed to Eve before the week was out—and she had grabbed for him as if there were nothing more important in life than being touched by a man, than lying with him. For a few moments she had behaved exactly as she had behaved eight years before in the pavilion. Except that then she had been eighteen years old and she had been with someone she had known all her life and loved for all of two years.
She thought she would surely die of shame.
“Please leave,” she said.
“Barbara . . .”
“Please leave.”
