Page 57 of A Daring Desire

He grinned as he correctly interpreted the scowl on her face.

“The wind will change, and you’ll stay looking like that,” he observed, a mocking glint in his eyes.

Rose gave an infuriated huff of indignation and turned on her heel, stalking off in the opposite direction.

“The ballroom is that way,” said a deep voice in her ear.

“Yes, but so are you,” she pointed out, the words sweetly venomous.

He chuckled, which to her irritation was an agreeable sound, as rich and sinful as dark chocolate.

“I’ll do you a deal,” he offered her, and she looked up into eyes as dark as chocolate, too.

“What kind of deal?” she demanded, not trusting him an inch.

“Dance with me, and I’ll go away and not speak another word to you all night.”

She considered this. “But if I get rid of you, I won’t have to speak to you anyway,” she countered.

“Try it,” he dared her, his eyes alight with amusement.

Rose glowered, knowing he was more than capable of sticking to her like a damned burr if she didn’t escape him.

“How about if I just tell you to go away?” she demanded, folding her arms.

He considered this for a moment. “No.”

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” she observed.

Lord Marlowe shrugged, and then his expression softened. “Don’t be cruel, sweet Rose. Is one dance really so much to ask? I’ll leave you in peace, I swear it.”

“You could just ask like any other gentleman,” she retorted, unsettled by this more coaxing tone, by the odd sensation that squirmed in her belly when he spoke gently to her.

“And would you have pretended your dance card was entirely full?”

She flushed, putting her chin up. “Perhaps it is,” she said crossly.

He smiled at that, shaking her head. “I don’t mean you’re not short of offers, but you never dance every dance and always keep some free.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about me,” she said, flustered now.

“I make it my business to know about the things that interest me, and you interest me a great deal, my lady.”

“I could wish I were a good deal duller,” she replied with dignity.

“That’s the spirit,” he said with approval, his eyes twinkling irrepressibly. “Please, my lady. Won’t you dance with me?”

Rose reflected ominously, that it was a good thing he did not often bestir himself to be charming, for he might be dangerous indeed. “Oh, very well. Though I wonder you did not just ask me nicely in the first place,” she replied with an indignant sniff. “You must realise a nicely worded request is far harder to refuse.”

“Yes, but I do not wish to offer a pig’s ear in the guise of a silk purse. It would be wrong of me to court you with the charming manners of a man with the soul of a poet—which I could do, if I had a mind to—when underneath I am impatient and abrupt and have little time for the inanity of polite society. My wife ought to know what she’s getting, and you’ll agree I’m honest, at least.”

Rose stared at him in blank astonishment. “C-Court me…?” she stammered. “Your wife?”

“Yes, you little goose. You surely did not think I was plaguing you for no purpose? I knew you were the one the moment I saw you, for you are quite the loveliest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, but you’ve got spirit, and you’re clever and bold enough to spar with me and give me a good set down. I like that,” he said, regarding her with frank admiration. “I like that very much.”

For a moment, Rose was lost for words, a state that did not last long. A barrage of cutting comments jostled for supremacy in her outraged brain, only to be forgotten as they reached the dance floor, and he took her in his arms. Until that moment, she had not truly appreciated how large he was, and quite how delicate it made her feel to be held so carefully in his gentle embrace.

“I have longed for this moment all night,” he said, and with such a look of reverence in his eyes, her heart did an odd little leap in her chest.