“Then accept me as your newest friend.”
She licked her lips.
He wanted to do the same.
“Done,” she said, and put out her hand. “Shall we dance now?”
He took her hand and led her to the center of the floor. For that minute, as they waited for others to take their places and for the orchestra to strike their first note, he was busy noting the height of her forehead, the hollow of her cheek, the tip of her nose, and the bow—the strong, pretty bow—of her upper lip.
He would kiss her soon. Take those lips again. Open her wide and make himself known as her fond admirer. She liked him. But she was torn. She did not want him as a lover, and in the same thought, she most assuredly did.Why, how, did he detect that?It did not matter. He had all the time in the world to discover all her objections, all her desires.
The music began, and he took her against him as the type of dance demanded. She was as lithe, her breasts as plush, as he remembered.
The caller declared this dance to be a placid walkabout.
Halsey rejoiced. He could have his hands on her for long minutes.
They began, and she followed him easily. She was full of a grace that spoke of years of understanding music. In the jaunty chords, he chased away the jealousy that she had danced with some other man in whose arms she had flowed like a swirling river to the sea. But she stared into his eyes for a moment or more, then closed them, afloat in his embrace. He took it as a sign she did feel safe with him. A good first step to have more of her. Serene, composed, self-possessed—she was a rare creature.
#
His hands on her told her he was a commanding man used to those who did his will. She could offer him her trust for the dance, for the moment. She wished she could appreciate his protection to its fullest, but years of denying any man power over her had created a habit of resistance.
“You like to dance,” he said, not as a question but a statement that brought out both of his dimples.
“I do and have not done enough of it. I note you dance well even with that persistent limp.”
“I was wounded last summer.”
“A hunting accident?” she asked.
“Definitely.”
“What did you catch?” In the summer, what game was sought here in England?
“A criminal.”
She was surprised he was so forthright. “You are in that business?”
“Aren’t we all?” he asked, and the question burned her with its truth.
She took to dancing.
When they parted to face the others in their set, then returned, he got in another question. “What else do you like besides dancing?”
“Riding. Billiards. Shooting.” She should not have said that last.
“Are you good at them?”
“As fine as can be when I am astride a horse like a man…” She watched his appreciation of that. “And when I have an opponent who is a novice at billiards.”
“And shooting?”
“I take proper aim.”When I must.
“I am not familiar with French practices about the hunt. Do ladies go out?”
“They do in the countryside.”
