Page 5 of An Enchanting Dare

“Except it wasn’t a cleverly thought-out scheme, but simply your abrasive personality that had the desired effect,” Aisling muttered.

He laughed then, a warm, rich sound that wrapped about her and made a frisson of pleasure skitter down her spine. Aisling shot him a glance, disturbed to discover she liked that she had made him laugh. Some people had a knack for it, like Evie, who was funny and clever with words without ever resorting to cruelty or sarcasm. Aisling had always rather envied her quick wit.

“Come. Won’t you dance with me?” he asked again, his voice gentler now, holding out his hand to her. “I’ll not persist if you refuse me again, but I truly should like to waltz with you.”

Aisling hesitated. Waltzing with him was a bad idea, but if he would leave her be afterwards, perhaps it was worth it.

“If you promise not to ask me for another tonight and let me hide in peace. Your word on it,” she said, studying his face for a hint of deception. She had long since realised that, for many men, their word was a worthless item and their honour nothing more than a façade.

“My word,” he said gravely.

Aisling took the hand he offered. She was unconvinced he meant what he said, but it would be as well to test him. They strolled the edges of the ballroom as the dance in progress ended, and people took their places for the next.

“Thank you,” Mr Cootes said, as he took her in hold for the waltz.

Aisling frowned up at him, her nerves skittering at the feel of his hand on her waist. His touch was light, but the sensation burned through her gown and her insides felt all muddled and stirred up.

“For granting me a dance,” he said in response to her glower, before easing her into the waltz.

“Oh,” she said, knowing she was being ungracious but too on edge to stop. Besides, if he didn’t want a partner who was rude to him, there were dozens of other young ladies to choose from. Which begged the question, why her? “Why aren’t you dancing with one of the more engaging young ladies here?”

He sent her an amused glance. “I have been dancing with the more engaging young ladies.”

Well, she’d asked for that.

“I had to do something whilst I was looking for you,” he added, his tone softer, as if easing her hurt feelings… which was ridiculous, because she had none. She didn’t give a tinker’s cuss who he danced with.

“Next time, I suggest you don’t waste your evening looking for me. Find someone more agreeable.”

“All the ladies are agreeable,” he replied with a soft laugh. “It’s very trying.”

Aisling wondered what the devil he meant by that, and her perplexity must have shown, for he spoke again.

“I much prefer arguing with you. It’s very dull when ladies agree with everything you say.”

“What mad article agreed with you?” she asked in blank astonishment, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think better of them.

He threw back his head and laughed, causing several people to turn and look at them. Aisling blushed and wished she’d never agreed to dance with him.

“Not everyone finds me as objectionable as you do, my lady,” he replied, his voice oddly gentle, as if he was trying to reassure her. “And stop worrying about what everyone else thinks. They are only jealous of the wonderful time I am having in such charming company.”

To Aisling’s everlasting relief, the dance ended, and she dropped his hand as if it had scalded her, stepping away from him.

“Stop it,” she said, though the words she had meant to sound angry were edged with fear. “Stop trying to charm me. I don’t know why you insist on doing so, but it won’t work.”

Mr Cootes stared at her, the concern in his eyes too easy to read. “What is it you are afraid of?”

“Nothing,” she said, her voice cold and hard now as she stiffened her resolve. “I am afraid of nothing, and you would do well to stay away from me. You are right about one thing, Mr Cootes. I am not as fragile as I appear, not a damsel in distress, so go and rescue someone else. I don’t want or need your help, or your trust.”

Aisling hurried away, her nails digging into her palms to give herself something to focus on, so she would not cry. Her chest was tight, and her stomach twisted into a knot. A warm hand grasping hers made her spin around in shock and she had a bare moment to school her features as she realised her brother had come after her.

“Conor! Oh, you made me jump,” she said, clutching at her chest and forcing out a startled laugh.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, glowering at her. “Did Cootes upset you?”

“What? Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head, though he had upset her, only not in the way Conor meant. He had tried to be kind or pretended to be kind. “No, he’s annoying, but he was quite the gentleman.”

“Then why do you look so out of sorts?”