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‘Miss Linton?’
That voice…
I swallowed, my heart giving another agonising pang.
‘Mr Ambrose.’
Slowly, I turned to face him. I thought I had prepared myself for the sight of him - but I’d been wrong. He was magnificent. The flickering light of the candles accentuated every hard line of his chiselled face, giving him a golden shine that somehow made him look like an angel descended from heaven. Only…the guardian or the avenging kind?
‘What do you want?’
Taking a step towards me, he leaned forward and pinned me with his arctic eyes. Those unfathomable eyes, pools of dark, stormy water, drew me in, destroying any chance I had at resistance before I’d even begun to try.
‘This is a ball, is it not?’ Bowing just deep enough for our eyes to be on one level, he hit me with the full force of his commanding gaze. ‘Miss Lillian Linton, will you grant me the honour of your hand for the last dance?’
Silence Broken, Words Spoken
I stared at him.
And then I stared at him some more.
Finally, Mr Ambrose cocked his head. ‘An answer, Miss Linton?’
‘Now?’ My voice was half-growl, half-whisper. ‘You’ve had the whole evening to ask me to dance, and you choose to do it now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes? Yes? That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?’
‘Yes.’
And before I could think of a comeback to that magnificent statement, he had captured my arm with his and was leading me off to the dancefloor.
‘Hey!’ I protested. ‘I haven’t said yes, yet!’
Mr Ambrose gave me a cold look that told me he read more into my words than just one dance. ‘I know.’
Oh dear…
He was angry. The kind of arctic anger which only Mr Ambrose and a Canadian blizzard were capable of. And in his anger, he was only more beautiful.
‘The last dance, My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen!’ The liveried servant in front of the musicians clapped his hands and stepped into the shadows.
Mr Ambrose held out his hand to me. Before I could think about it, my fingers had already closed around his.
What is happening? He’s been an arse to me! Why should I do this? Why should I…
The remainder of that question slipped out of my mind when I was whirled around with consummate skill, and dipped back. A strong arm came up behind me to catch me just before I fell. Breathing hard, I gazed up into the stunningly perfect face of Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
‘Shall we?’
I felt as if I were dreaming. Only…was this a dream or a nightmare? Was he only doing this to humiliate me further? To get his revenge for my refusal?
But it wasn’t revenge I saw burning in his eyes. It was the cold fire of desire.
‘I feel that I am making an objectively true statement,’ he whispered, ‘when I say that you look beautiful.’ His eyes slid up and down my form, caressing every curve, and I shivered under his scrutiny. ‘Especially in that dress.’
Ah yes. The dress.
