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There was a pause. “This is not what I asked.”
Richard swallowed. Isabel knew the depth of his affair with Jo far more than any other person in the ballroom. And he was grateful for her interference. If only there was anything he could do about it. “I know,” he said, sounding defeated even to his own ears.
“We can weather any scandal, Richard, just… Please, be certain about this.” Isabel turned her pleading eyes to him. It was as if she was pleading for herself. Or perhaps she was pleading on Jo’s behalf.
Had they talked about him? And if so, what did Jo tell his sister that she hadn’t told him?
Did she despise him now or did she still have hope in her heart that everything would work out?
How could it? Even if he stopped the proceedings now and didn’t announce the betrothal, what would their future be like?
He was still a viscount. He still needed a respectable wife. He needed to beget heirs.
He tugged on his cravat once again and gave a sharp nod. “I am certain.”
Thick chestnut hair caught his eyes, and he turned, watching as Jo danced with Lord FitzWalter. Richard gritted his teeth. Soon he’d be a married man. And once he was, he would never be able to dance with Jo again. Not without courting a scandal. And Jo would be forever out of his reach.
Well, he wasn’t a married man yet.
As soon as the music ceased, he elbowed his way to Jo’s side.
She was smiling widely at one of the gentlemen when Richard unceremoniously stepped between them.
She raised her worried eyes to his. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
Richard extended his hand. “Asking you for a dance.”
Jo looked around, her teeth gritted. “Everybody’s watching.”
Richard sketched a bow. “Yes, and they will note upon it if you decline.”
Jo pursed her lips but slowly put her hand in his. She smiled at the people around them as they made their way to the dance floor. The first bars of a waltz sounded, and Richard swept her into his arms. Her hand fluttered on his shoulder as he pulled her closer to him. He could feel her racing pulse beneath his fingers as he held her hand.
Her chest was rising and falling frantically and her lips were slightly open. She was agitated in his arms, while he relished the feel of her under his touch.
He enjoyed the way they glided together around the room. She was an exceptional dancer. He effortlessly led her among other couples, and it was as though they were one. Without any communication, their bodies moved in unison.
Richard’s gaze slid down her face, glided toward her soft, silky neck, and then lower to her rounded breasts peeking out of her bodice. She was mesmerizing to look at, enchanting to witness smiling, and if they made love even just once with their bodies melding into one, he was certain he would never be able to come back from that mind-altering experience.
“Why did you ask me to dance?” she asked sharply.
Richard’s gaze snapped back to her deep, brown eyes. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Then why are you silent?” Her voice was even, emotionless.
Richard twirled her, then caught her against his chest. Her eyes fell closed at the contact, her lips parting. She forced herself to step away to a safer distance.
“Perhaps I’ve been catching my breath.”
“Well, the dance won’t last forever, my lord.”
My lord.He hated when she called him that. Richard’s fingers tightened on her hand. He never wanted to let go of her. “I know that you’re angry with me,” he started clumsily.
She shot him a fiery gaze. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“You knew in advance that this was temporary.”
“So did you. We agreed on the terms.”
