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He blinked in surprise. What did that even mean?
“Make it right?”
“I’ll tell him the truth. I tricked you into dancing with me because I was curious. He’s used to me doing foolish things that go awry. He’ll forgive me. He always does.”
He stared down at her, realizing that she intended to make herself look like the jester in order to further his agenda.
His fingers spread wide on her back, wishing that he could pull her against his chest. “You shouldn’t—”
“It’s all right. I don’t mind.”
He grimaced down at her, not sure what to say. They continued their dance in silence as they twirled about the floor along with the other dancers.
Had he been out of step before? Ace was in step now. What was more, he’d ceased thinking about his problems and for this moment, this dance, he just felt.
Leaning down closer, he caught a whiff of Emily’s scent, softly fragrant and fresh as spring air after a rain, even the smell of her filled him with hope and a certain lightness.
And though he appreciated her offer to fall on the proverbial sword, Lord knew that he didn’t get those offers often.
The idea didn’t sit right.
Maybe it was her comment that her brother was used to her being the fool, what had she meant by that? And did the idea hurt her?
She was the sort of woman who should be protected, not ridiculed. He smiled to himself realizing that this was how he always ended up helping others rather than being helped. When it came right down to it, he was best suited to the role.
And that was why Ace would not allow Emily to tell her brother that she’d tricked him into the dance.
Instead, he’d tell the baron the rest of the truth. He was a bastard with a business proposition.
Emily sensed some sort of shift in Lord Smith.
He’d gone quiet and he’d stopped demanding a recounting of all her conversations with Mirabelle. That was the first change. But there was something different in the way he held her too.
His grip was nearly possessive. She was close, almost indecently so, and his palm was pressed flat against her back, his fingers wide.
The touch had her heart hammering in her chest.
Even his fingers and palm conveyed strength. He moved her across the floor with masterful grace that stole her breath and the thoughts from her mind.
All she could do was feel. And every feeling filled her with delight and a deeper yearning that she hardly understood.
But if she might put it to words, she’d call it…wanting.
She wished for more of him.
The dance ended and his hand slipped from her back, the loss of that contact filling her with disappointment even as she placed her hand into the crook of his elbow.
Now that he’d touched her like that, she understood that she’d always wished for a man to do so. Would he ever again? The idea made her pulse with that wanting once again.
Would another man? But she could hardly think of anyone else as she snuck another glance at his profile.
He led her away from the floor and toward a dark corner of the ballroom. For a moment her heart sped up. Was he once again searching for a quiet place for them to speak? An image of him leaning close, his body all around hers, tempting, protecting, rose in her mind.
She’d give so much to experience that sort of embrace with him again. Her pulse thrummed in her ears at the very idea and tightened her grip on his arm.
But Lord Smith was not leading her to an illicit rendezvous in a quiet corner of the ballroom. Instead, he was leading her back to her brother.
Her brother stood with both his friends, a few matrons, and several debutantes. Emily ducked her chin and smiled, momentarily forgetting the riot of emotions coursing through her body, as she realized that a few marriage-minded mothers had caught her brother in conversation, and it would be some time before he was able to extricate himself from their grips.
