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Chapter Four
Throughout the rest of the evening, Lydia dreaded her second set with Michael. She found herself distracted during her other sets, barely able to pretend to pay attention to her partners’ prattling. She felt him looming from across the room, gazing at her with such a desirous look that she thought he might eat her if she let him. When he returned to claim her hand, she found herself trembling. He let his thumb rest on the top of her hand as he took it, pulling her toward the dance floor.
“The waltz is my favorite dance,” he told her, putting his arm around her waist. She swallowed, feeling his hand heavy against her. In waltzing with other partners, they had always had a light, polite touch. Michael meant to be bold.
“Why do you say that?” she asked, politely.
In response, he slowly moved his hand against the small of her back and grinned at her.
“Oh, I think it is a wonderful way to get to know your partner,” he said. “An excuse to get very close.”
She placed her hand on his upper arm, carrying herself as tall and politely as she could. Once the music started, though, he pulled her closer, leaning in to whisper in her ear. The warmth of him near her was intoxicating and she found herself closing her eyes.
“Tell me, my lady,” he asked, “If it were not my good looks, perhaps my reputation enticed you?”
His bold question broke the spell.
“Your reputation to never marry?” she asked innocently. “How would that have been logical in my plan?”
“Not that reputation,” he chuckled and said in a low voice that sent vibrations through her, “I mean my reputation as a rake.”
“I do not know what you speak of,” she replied coyly, trying to turn her head away from the warmth of his breath on her neck.
“I think you do,” he assured her. “I know the rumors that float around about me. I’ve seen the stories in the papers, which makes me think that you have, too.”
“We both know that the papers contain more falsehoods than truths.”
“But how are you to say which are the truths? You just pick which ones you prefer?”
“Perhaps I just believe them all to be lies.”
He chuckled. “If you thought them all lies, you would not have betted on them to perpetuate this sham of an engagement. Tell me again, why me?”
As he peered into her face, searching for her reaction, she felt exposed and bare. She blushed, embarrassed, wishing she could run away.
“I did not think we would actually meet, face to face,” she replied, breathlessly.
“Oh?” he asked. “Was this not some devious plan of yours to entrap me? You didn’t hope to marry me after all?”
“I meant nothing of the sort,” she said.
He grabbed her more firmly. “Tell me, then. What did you hope to accomplish?”
“You wouldn’t understand!” she nearly cried, choking to keep the words soft.
He stared down at her mouth for a moment, such that she could not help but to lick her lips self-consciously. His lips parted, ever so slightly, as he exhaled softly.
“Would you have me taste your lips, then?” he whispered, not taking her eyes away from her mouth.
“You are too bold,” she whispered back, shocked.
“Am I?” he asked, unashamed. “Because, to me, it looks as though you are begging to be kissed.”
She felt a fire building up in her body, a sensation she had never felt before. Her heart was racing, and her hands trembled where she touched his arm and hand. Having danced with countless men before, she was surprised by her own reaction. His fingers were minutely caressing her back, as though he knew just the smallest motion needed to cause a reaction without drawing attention of the other guests. For a fleeting moment she wanted his hands to explore her further.
“If you want to keep up this farce, you may have to put up with my boldness,” he threatened.
Finding it hard to breathe, she needed to be very far away from him. She felt if she let him get too much bolder, she might let him cross a line she did not intend to cross. The song was coming to an end, though each beat seemed to drag more slowly than the last. Once the dance had finished, she curtsied briefly.
