She shifted her gaze to the captain, feeling as though she were about to jump off a very steep precipice with nothing beneath her to break the fall. “You see, I’ve already promised the first dance to your brother.”
* * *
She chose me.
Dylan lifted his gaze, feeling off-kilter, as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him. He didn’t know how to react to Natalia’s unexpected pronouncement.
After weeks of obsessive pursuit, she was finally giving in. Now. When it was too late.
He shared a quick glance with Michael, who looked even more stunned than he was. Neither of them had anticipated this. But what the hell did Michael expect? Was he supposed to refuse her?Not bloody likely.
Giving his brother an apologetic shrug, Dylan turned the full force of his delighted smile on Natalia, enchanted by the look of tentative happiness in her beautiful emerald eyes. “Of course. Our dance. I’d almost forgotten.”
Ignoring Michael’s low mutter of dismay, Dylan took Natalia’s small gloved hand and led her onto the dance floor. It was only a dance, he told himself, pushing away a twinge of guilt. Just one dance, and it had nothing to do with that infernal bet.
He just wanted to hold this lovely unattainable girl in his arms for a few breathless minutes, secure in the knowledge that she’d chosen him over Michael. Then he would walk away, go to Aldabaran, and begin a new life. One that was far simpler than the chaotic, unhappy existence he been living here in London.
The music swirled around them as he led her into the simple steps of the waltz. Her hand was warm and welcoming on his shoulder, and he couldn’t remember ever being quite so enamored.
He caught sight of Jonathan, lurking behind Michael, and felt a moment of sweet dark triumph. It didn’t matter that he’d already promise Michael he would concede the bet. He’d always have the satisfaction of knowing he could have won, if he’d wanted to.
“Your brother has warned you off, hasn’t he?” Natalia stared at him, her wide bright eyes drinking him in, as though she wished to memorize this moment, and him, for all time. “Sherbourne told you he plans to offer for me. Or, more correctly, for my dowry.”
Dylan nodded, surprised by her accurate assessment of the situation. “The old man has given him strict orders to land you. And I’m supposed to slink off to my estate in Scotland, posthaste, before I tarnish your reputation.”
My estate.
He’d waited his entire life to say those two simple words, and the need to share his good news with her overwhelmed him. He longed for a quiet dark place where they could have a few moments alone. He wanted to tell someone about his amazing stroke of good fortune. He wanted to ask her what she thought he should do about the fact that his father had kept his inheritance from him for so long.
Such uncharacteristic thoughts alarmed him. It might be a good thing he’d just given up the right to share anything with her.
A flicker of unmistakable disappointment crossed her lovely features. “So, you’re just going to give up on me? Bow to their wishes? Run away with your tail between your legs?”
He frowned, shocked by her audacity, stunned by the cowardly picture she painted. “Why should I stay? You haven’t given me any encouragement. No reason to believe you care for me in the slightest.”
“Doesn’t this dance prove anything? I do care for you. I care for you very much.” She seemed surprised by her words, but she didn’t try to take them back. Instead, she squeezed his hand, her small fingers lost in his much larger ones. “You said you weren’t interested in my dowry.”
“I’m not.” At least not anymore, he reasoned to himself, once again feeling enormous guilt. He should never have used her weaknesses against her. He felt a sudden intense urge to make it up to her.
“You’re a very beautiful woman.” He wished she could see herself through his eyes, if only for an instant. “You shouldn’t worry that men only want you for the money you’ll bring.”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “You also said you wanted to make me laugh, to kiss me, and show me passion.”
He stumbled, the steps of the waltz forgotten as she repeated his own reckless words. Fear tempered the challenge in her eyes. He doubted she’d ever spoken so incautiously in all her life.
“What are you saying?” He forced himself to move back into the steps of the waltz, pretending nothing was amiss, even though she’d just turned his every expectation of her upside down. Natalia Sinclair had chosen him over his brother. That fact alone made him fall a little bit in love with her. “Are you telling me you want those things as well?” All thoughts of the bargain he’d struck with Michael fled his mind.
“I want to be with you,” she whispered, all in a rush, as though she couldn’t quite believe her own words. “Alone. Can you meet me in the rose garden in about an hour?”
He knew he should say no. He’d just promised his brother he’d quit pursuing her. But he couldn’t walk away without ever knowing if this thing between them was truly as powerful as it seemed. “Of course, I’ll be there.” How could he say no?
* * *
After dancing with the captain, Natalia waited fifteen endless minutes before approaching her father and Clarice. They were deep in conversation, and Clarice seemed upset. Torn, Natalia was about to turn away, but Clarice saw her hovering and beckoned her near.
“Natalia, darling. Are you having a nice time?” The duchess was obviously glad of the distraction, and Natalia felt terrible about her intended deception.
“Actually, I’m feeling rather ill. I think I’ll go up to my room and rest a bit.”
