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“Stay with me, Soph,” Marcus urged. He squeezed her hand so tightly that it almost hurt, but it snapped her back to the present.
“I’m here,” she muttered. “Under protest.” She took a deep breath and looked up at Marcus from under heavy-lidded lashes. “Why do you think he’s here?” Sophia asked as they separated.
“You know why he’s here,” Marcus said under his breath as the music brought them back together.
She hoped she did, but it would be nice to hear someone say it. “You think he’s here for me?” Her voice quavered a little. She looked around the room, but Ashley’s dark suit was nowhere to be seen.
Marcus circled around a grinning girl and came back to her. “I think he’s here for you. We should probably get you out of harm’s way.”
Sophia tripped over his toe. Out of harm’s way? “Not on your life,” she breathed.
“Soph,” he warned, his voice a low growl.
The music slowed to a halt, and Marcus led her off the dance floor. He stood with her on the outskirts of the room and looked down at her dance card. The rest of her dances were filled. And her next partner should be coming to greet her any moment. She looked around. Captain Perkins was a red-haired man with a kind smile. He stood over six feet tall and was lean and lanky. She saw him approach from across the room to collect her. He had a swagger to his step that was almost cockish. He had none of Ashley’s grace.
Would she compare every man she met to Ashley? Probably. For the rest of her life.
But Captain Perkins stepped up to her side at the same time Ashley did. One on her right and the other on her left. Ashley looked somber as he raised her dance card to see what was next. He looked up at the captain and arched a brow. “You won’t mind if I take your dance, will you, Perky?”
Sophia never would have assumed the red-haired captain’s face could grow any redder, but it did. “Perkins,” he corrected. “And, actually, I believe my name is written in for this dance.” He squared his shoulders and stared Ashley down.
Ashley took the card in his hands and tore it in half. He handed the other half to Captain Perkins. “There, that should do it.” Then he held out his elbow to Sophia as though daring her to take it.
She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and let him lead her onto the floor. It wasn’t until his hand landed on her waist that she realized his power over her. The music held no power at all. Ashley commanded every second of her attention.
***
It was all Ashley could do not to grin like a bacon-brained ninnyhammer. However, since every eye in the room was upon him, he couldn’t possibly tell her how damn happy he was to see her. He settled his hand at her waist and squeezed gently.
“How are you?” he asked softly enough that only she could hear him.
Her gaze didn’t rise above his cravat when she spoke. “I’m well.”
The soft sound of her voice hit him like a bolt of lightning. He had Sophia Thorne in his arms. In a crowded ballroom, he reminded himself. He forced his feet to move. It had been years since he’d waltzed. Since he’d graced a ballroom.
“How is Lady Anne?” she asked, her voice rolling across him like silk. He fought a shiver.
“She’s well.”
He turned with her in his arms, tugging her closer than was allowed, but he couldn’t help it. She still smelled like the bluebells of summer, a smell he would have in his mind forever. He’d missed her. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her from the room. To set his lips upon hers and taste her. To be with her. He supposed he would have to settle for what he could get.
“She asked about you.”
A heavy sigh left her lips. “Why are you here?” she asked. Her hand trembled within his.
“For you.” He didn’t say more than that. Just those two words.
She inhaled deeply, causing her bodice to swell, and the fullness of her breasts teased his chest. Walking, much less dancing, would soon become impossible. Ashley waltzed her to the edge of the room and out the side entrance, down a long corridor, and into a small parlor. He closed the door behind them. Then he opened it again. “For propriety’s sake,” he said with a grin.
The lilting sound of the music was little more than a memory. But Sophi
a Thorne was real. Flesh and blood in front of him.
“Propriety?” Sophia scoffed. “You should know by now that I don’t give a rat’s arse about propriety.” She turned her back to him and walked slowly toward the window.
“A rat’s arse,” he repeated with a chuckle. God, she was delightful.
“Why are you here, Ashley?”
