AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Do not worry about things not yet expressed.
But worry she did, all the more, the more he scowled.
“If you have no desire to further our acquaintance because of how Harriet—or I—behaved, could you not simply state it outright? Why make me suffer through a dance—”
“Suffer? Is that what a turn with me would be?”
“If you only seek to do so in order to sever any future interaction, then aye.” What had her in such a ruffle? “Cruel indeed.”
“And if I seek to further our association?”
“Then why the devil not just blasted ask me?” She indicated the throng now bowing and curtsying as the song came to an end. “Did your mother say something?”
“Mother? Whatever do you mean?”
“Why cause me no small amount of angst?”
“Anne.” He gripped her flailing arm, tightened his fingers around her wrist till the pressure stifled her words. “You gravely misunderstand. I want nothing more than to contemplate a union between us, but—damn it, woman—I claim no inkling of how the devil to dance”—just then, as though to vex him beyond measure, the musicians began a vivacious waltz—“much less waltz with you when I have no notion of what to do with this.”
He waved the shortened arm, covered in his best tailcoat, quickly folded and sewn that afternoon when he’d gone by Redford Manor, thinking that his destination for the party. “How in blazes do I complete the steps? Clasp your hand with this?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Is that truly what has been bothering you? I thought you were about to cry off.”
“What gave you that notion? And you call me a noddy-head?”
Capable Anne took charge, the one who had so impressed him on the Spierton grounds; wrapping one arm around the side of his waist and tugged him toward her, her other hand—the one in an ideal world he would be grasping overhead with his, she slid just beneath his arm, bringing hers up until his shortened appendage rested gently along it. “Like this, you imbecile.”
No matter that it should have been the opposite, missing one, he braced his hand firmly against the middle of her back and found that guiding her where he wanted them to go was a relatively simple matter of exerting the lightest amount of pressure. She followed him wonderfully.
The memory of learning the dance—all the various parts of it—thanks to Warrick one drunken night in Portugal, threatened to addle him. Warrick, the most accomplished dancer among them, who could no longer walk, much less aspire to dance…
But on the next spin, a glance toward the French windows showed his seated friend near one, engaged in an animated conversation with Anne’s Intelligent Friend as frowning Frost looked on, which kept the sorrow at bay. Most of it, at least. For they had all three made it home, not something he could say for everyone who had reveled that fun and boozy night.
When the tempo changed, alerting them to assume the next hold as they added a hop to their spinning steps, the transition went smoother than he’d feared. Both her hands now firmly curved over his shoulders. And though both of his should have been upon either side of her waist, he gripped her warm flesh with only his left hand and simply brought his shortened arm up beneath hers.
She nodded her approval, eyes brimming with joy, as they hopped and spun, circling the dance floor along with every other pair daring enough to join in.
Staring into Anne’s face, memorizing every imperfect, alluring feature, every exquisite inch that beckoned him to kiss and touch and look a thousand years more, brought the fiercest sense of rightness he had known in years.
“Last time I did this—hell, the only time—beg pardon, I partnered Warrick and we were both so cupshot we were seeing double.” After several jaunty turns, holding her gaze all the while, he was finally able to relax sufficiently to savor partnering her. “Not sure I realized how much better this would be with someone other than a bosky soldier. With you.” His fingers flexed against her waist. “How close we would be.”
“I know. It’s practically indecent,” she said smugly. “I quite like it.”
“I quite…like you.” The exertion filched his breath.
“Even when I am foolish?”
He swung her around in an exhilarating turn, one that lifted his feet—along with his heart.
The music changed yet again, each pair expected to add a skip-hop, a little kick, to the already brisk effort. “You, my dear, are never foolish. Though on occasion…I admit you might attempt foolish things.”
“Hurrumph.”
Another vigorous turn and his knee buckled, leg crumpled, hurtled them both toward the floor.
His arms released her and wheeled about. His feet stuttered but couldn’t keep up.
Down he went, his knee heading toward a burning collision with—
