Page 41 of An Enchanting Dare

“You look exquisite tonight, Evie.”

She glanced up at him and smiled, dimples flashing. “You always say that,” she said, as though he was just offering her the usual polite words.

“Because it is always true.” He tried to hold her gaze, to get her to understand he did not say such things lightly, but she glanced away from him, refusing to take his words seriously.

“If I am, it’s because of the beautiful dresses you design for me.”

“I never said I designed them,” he retorted, irritated that she would not heed him.

“You never said you didn’t, either,” she shot back, an amused glint in her eyes.

They found their place on the dance floor, and Louis took her in his arms. He saw Mr Hadley-Smythe watching as Evie put her hand on his shoulder, and did not like the look in the fellow’s eyes. Barnaby was right. Whether or not Evie was ready to consider marriage, there were men enough here who would not wait for her. They would pursue her, persuade her, and if he was not careful, they might find their place in her heart before he could convince her to accept him. There was a fine balance between patience and respect and foolishness. Something must be done.

Evie glanced up at Louis as he led her into the dance. There was an odd tension about him this evening, a sense of restless impatience. Perhaps he was meeting someone here tonight, though if he had taken a new mistress she was at a loss to discover who it was, which was strange. No matter how discreet Louis was, the women always preened and whispered their secret behind fans and in quiet corners, eager to be the envy of their friends. Yet she had not heard so much as a murmur for months now. It was very odd. Perhaps he had finally met someone who respected his privacy, someone special. The notion niggled at her, an uncomfortable sensation like realising you had grit in your shoe and no opportunity to remove it. Probably just because he hadn’t told her, and his secrecy vexed her. He always used to confide in her, but he had not done so for a long time, and that bothered her more than she liked to admit. Did he not want to be her friend any longer? Anxiety skittered down her spine and she gripped his hand tighter before she could think better of it.

His brilliant blue gaze settled on her, a question lingering there. Are you well, ma petite? She could hear the words without him even saying them. She smiled in response, telling herself she was being foolish. He still sought her out, didn’t he? He still wrote to her several times a week, still scolded her if she didn’t save him at least one dance. Of course he was still her friend.

“Evie?”

“Yes?”

“You are beautiful.”

There was a look in his eyes that made her heart thud and she glanced away, giving a nervous laugh.

“You’re very kind, monsieur.”

“Non.” He sounded annoyed now. “Non, I am not kind. You always say that, like it is in my nature to say meaningless things just to make people happy. Do you not know me at all? I am neither nice nor kind. I am the very devil, Evie, and I find you beautiful.”

Evie’s gaze snapped back to his, staring at him in shock. Whatever had got into him tonight?

He held her gaze and then let out a breath of frustration and looked away. The music swelled around them, and Louis spun her into a series of fast turns, leaving her breathless. His hold tightened upon her when she might have stumbled, guiding her effortlessly in the direction he wished her to go. For a shocking moment, her breasts pressed against his chest, the contact electrifying. Evie gasped. He loosened his grasp a little but was still holding her too close, heat blazing from his hard body. It lasted only seconds, but left her giddy, flushed, and bewildered.

Their waltz seemed to take forever, with her suddenly too aware of his masculine physique, of the scent of him, subtle and spicy and wildly expensive, of the unsettling look in his blue eyes. But the dance ended, thank heavens, and she curtsied to him, needing to get away and… and just breathe.

“Thank you for the dance,” she said, forcing a smile, and was about to scurry away when he grasped her hand, setting it on his arm to escort her from the floor.

“You are angry with me,” he observed.

Evie shook her head. She wasn’t angry. She… she didn’t know what she was, but it was disconcerting and frightening, which was why she needed to get away from him. Then perhaps she could puzzle it out.

He guided her from the dancefloor, out of the ballroom and onto the terrace. It was well lit and there were plenty of people out taking the air, but it was quieter than inside. Louis walked to the balustrade, and she let go of his arm, wanting to put distance between them, but he took her hand again. Evie glanced around, praying no one was observing them. What was he doing?

“Evie,” he said, keeping his voice low. His thumb rubbed a slow circle against her palm, and despite them both wearing gloves, it elicited the most peculiar sensation beneath her skin. Her heart thudded uncertainly, and she glanced up at him, even though she was afraid to. Lord, but his eyes were so blue. Could an ocean really be that extraordinary colour? Oceans were treacherous places, weren’t they? Oceans were full of wild storms that could pull you down, fathoms deep and she did not want to drown. Evie had always been afraid of risky situations, of doing anything reckless. She did not wish for an adventure but to stay safe at home and read about it in books.

“Don’t you trust me, love?”

There was something in his voice, an aching sadness that she longed to soothe, but this version of Louis was unfamiliar and too dangerous. This was the voice of the man who could seduce any woman he wanted, and then walk away from her without a backward glance.

“Of course,” she said lightly.

She had always trusted him, more than she trusted anyone in the world besides her family. Evie had told him her secrets, had put her faith in him, and yet there was a panicky sensation building inside her that told her things were changing and she did not want them to change. She did not want to lose her friend. Not ever. If she lost Louis….

Anxiety made her breath catch, and she pulled her hand free of his.

“The next dance is beginning. I am promised to Mr Price. Excuse me, monsieur. I will see you later.”

She fled back to the ballroom, not understanding why she wanted to run from Louis when she could not bear the thought of not being with him. But the evening was too hot and noisy, and she was all in a muddle, and… and there was Mr Price and she owed him a dance. With relief, she allowed him to lead her onto the dancefloor and did not look back.