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The little sprite had done nothing but tempt him since the day he’d met her. She smelled like a meadow in summer mixed with the sweetest lemonade. The scent of her reached up to tickle his nose as the pulse at the base of her throat began to jump. Finn already knew that she was a sight to behold when she was in a temper. Or in the throes of passion. He had a feeling he wouldn’t see the latter again anytime soon. But a man could hope, couldn’t he?
Finn held out his hand to her as a waltz began to play. “Come and dance with me.”
“Why should I? A blink ago, you were behind the potted palms with Miss Horse Teeth.”
“Miss Horse Teeth?” Was she really jealous?
“She could eat corn through a picket fence.”
He pasted a grin on his face. “You should dance with me because people are beginning to stare.” He took her gloved hand in his and dragged her onto the dance floor. “You do know how to dance, don’t you?” he asked. Her face flushed slightly. “Don’t worry. Just let me lead.”
She nodded tightly as he raised her
hand to his side and placed one of his hands on her waist. She flinched at the intimate crawl of his fingertips as he readied himself and nudged the hand at her waist a bit higher.
That was odd, he thought. He shook the thought of how good she felt in his arms from his mind. Lusting after Claire Thorne was not in his best interest. Making her fall in love with him was. He forced himself to concentrate and took a step.
Miss Thorne took one at the same time, but it was the wrong one, and she trod upon his toes. He winced and steadied her in his arms. “I said, ‘Let me lead,’” he warned with a quirk of his brow. She nodded quickly, her face flooding with color. “Can you give up control for a moment? Just for one simple little dance?”
She nodded again and he took a step. This time, she followed and stepped back. He began to lead her in the steps of the waltz, her hand quivering in his. Her uncertainty was almost enough to tug at a man’s heartstrings. But he couldn’t think about his heartstrings, not tonight.
Her strawberry blond hair hung in wisps around her slender neck, the majority artfully arranged in an upswept style that looked destined to tumble. God, he could just imagine pulling the pins from her hair and letting it fall across his body while she rode him. Such thoughts would get him nowhere, aside from on Robin’s bad side. Claire Thorne was to be protected, and from the moment she’d tumbled into his bedchamber, she’d been on his mind.
“You’re doing well,” he encouraged. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
Finn knew of every breath she took, because her breasts grazed his chest with the intimacy of the waltz. Her skirts swished around his legs, and he felt her every movement in his… entire body.
“Who is that man there in the corner?” Claire asked. “The one with the brunette on his arm.”
Finn held back an oath. “That’s the Earl of Mayden.” Robin would not be happy that the earl was there. Not at all. It must have been an oversight on the guest list for him to have been invited.
“He’s the one you think killed Robinsworth’s wife?”
“I don’t think it,” Finn clarified. “I know it. I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”
“What would it take to prove it?” Claire asked.
“A confession, probably. Anything else would be circumstantial. Only the late duchess knows what really happened. And the truth went to the grave along with her.”
“Is there anything he loves? Something you could hold over his head? His mother? A relative?”
God, he liked the way she thought. She was brilliant. But Finn had exhausted that avenue of thought. The earl had no one he cared about more than himself. “No.”
“What are his wants and desires?”
“Money, money, and money. And revenge against our family.”
“What does he have against you? What makes him covet what you have?”
“He’s a greedy man,” Finn murmured, more to himself than to her.
The waltz stopped finally, and Finn couldn’t think of any other reason to keep her with him. Not without ruining her with his attention. He delivered her back to her family, which waited on the skirts of the room. “Miss Thorne,” he said with a bow. “Thank you for the dance.” Then he turned and strode into the crowd.
It wasn’t until moments later that he realized she was dancing again. And she was in the arms of the Earl of Mayden.
