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“Ah, I see.” Cameron lifted his champagne glass to his lips. “Damn, it’s empty.” He set it down loudly on the railing. “Money is the issue then, as well as blood.”
“Mr. Price,” Rose began, unable to look at him, “I fail to see what—”
“My lady,” Cameron
interrupted, “would you have danced with me, had I asked you?”
Rose turned. His silver eyes penetrated her flesh like daggers. She felt defenseless. All those heart-wrenching hours spent at the pianoforte with him, fighting her attraction to him and telling herself they had no future, flooded into her like a tidal wave. He had treated her with such disdain, never missing an opportunity to make a snide comment about their different stations. Was it possible he felt an attraction too?
“You’re foxed, Mr. Price,” Rose said, forcing herself not to stammer. “This conversation would be better served if we were both in our right minds.”
Cameron tentatively reached toward her arm and touched her lightly with his finger. A spark shot through Rose at the contact.
“I may have imbibed a bit more than usual, my lady,” he said. “But I assure you, I am in my right mind. I asked you a question. Would you have danced with me?”
“I…don’t know. It wouldn’t really be appropriate.”
Cameron snorted again. “Of course. What would the other peers have thought if you, the daughter of the Earl of Ashford, were seen dancing with a commoner? Pardon, not just a commoner, but a tenant on your brother-in-law’s land.” He turned away from her. “Good evening, my lady.”
Rose’s heart hurt. She had wanted to dance with him. She had dreamed of more than that. Of kissing him the way she kissed Evan. Of doing…more than kissing. “Wait, Mr. Price.”
He turned. “What is it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes, what?”
She gulped. “Yes. I would have danced with you.”
He walked back to her and brushed back a stray curl. Her skin burned where he touched her.
“Will you dance with me now?”
“It’s nearly time for the meal.” Rose swallowed. “The orchestra is taking a break. I…we should go in.”
“Please. Dance with me.”
Her heart hammered against her chest. “There’s no music.”
He cupped her cheek. “We don’t need music. You and I together have it in our souls.”
“Mr. Price…”
“Come with me.” He took her arm and led her to the stairs of the terrace.
Rose looked around quickly. They were alone. Completely alone. The other couples on the terrace must have gone in to be seated for the meal. Cameron pulled her down the stairs and out onto the soft grass of the lawn. He led her away from the torchlights to a dark crevice where only the light of the crescent moon veiled them in a lustrous cloak.
“Dance with me,” he said, taking her into her arms. He led her left hand to his shoulder and pulled her to him. “Look at me.”
She gazed up into his sterling eyes, the moonlight illuminating his handsome face and casting highlights into his coal-black hair. He looked like a pagan god come to earth to deflower an innocent maiden. Her heart raced and fear coursed through her, but she didn’t look away. He began moving in a slow waltz, leading her around the lawn in intricate steps that surprised her.
“You dance very well, Mr. Price,” she said.
“Yes, we common folk dance too,” he said, a bit sardonically.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Shhh.” He pulled her closer.
