Page 46 of The Duke Says I Do
This morning, when they’d discussed the ball, Portia had promised the first waltz to Alaric. But she hadn’t caught sight of him. Although it was safer not to be seen together, she’d had to swallow bitter disappointment. The last few days of brief meetings in the park had whetted her appetite for his company.
“I’m sure you’d rather dance with Kate,” Portia said. “She deserves it, after putting this wonderful party together.”
“In any case, Lady Portia has promised me this dance,” a beloved voice said from behind her.
Portia told herself that on no account must she light up like a Roman candle. Especially when the Shelburns knew her well enough to be curious about her reaction to a man she’d always disliked.
But dear Lord, it was difficult not to smile as if Alaric filled the whole world with sunlight. Struggling to keep her expression blank, she bobbed into a curtsy. “Your Grace.”
The orchestra played the waltz’s introduction and couples gathered to begin the dance. Alaric offered a brief bow to the Shelburns. “My lady. My lord.”
“Your Grace. Thank you for coming to my ball.” Kate’s voice didn’t give much away.
Alaric’s expression remained serious, almost stern, as if that flibbertigibbet Portia Frain was beneath his lofty notice. Once that expression had made her want to kick him. Tonight, it made her want to laugh. And kiss him.
Wouldn’t that set the cat among the pigeons at Kate’s first ball?
“Shall we?” When he extended his gloved hand, Portia took it without thinking. The surge of connection made her jump. His grip tightening, he drew her onto the dance floor.
“Oh, dear.” Portia turned to him. “I’m not sure how well that went.”
She’d avoided meeting his eyes. She didn’t trust him to maintain his sangfroid if she gazed up at him like a lovestruck ninny. But his faint snort of amusement made her take a peek. The somber air lingered, but the line of his mouth hinted that he was having trouble not laughing. If Portia Frain made the famously austere Duke of Granville laugh, the game would be up in a second.
“Leaping about like a frog on a lily pad when I take your hand doesn’t help.” He didn’t sound annoyed. He sounded as if he liked her. The warmth in his tone made her silly heart caper with joy.
He slid his arm around her waist. Since her debut, she’d waltzed hundreds of times. This was the first time that setting her hand on a man’s broad shoulder made her heart kick with excitement. She hoped to heaven that she wasn’t blushing. “Perhaps Kate and Leighton will blame my edginess on dislike.”
“Try and look as apathetic as usual.” The waltz began, and Alaric swept her into a dizzying turn that had her clutching at him to keep her balance. His nearness always had the most calamitous effect on her knees. “That might help.”
She’d danced with Alaric often in the past, although not this season after last summer’s scandal. Never before had the dancebecome a flight through the heavens. She had a sharp word to herself. Too much was at stake for her to surrender to tipsy wonder. The world must never speculate about whether the Duke of Granville had turned his attention to the younger Frain sister.
Around them, couples spun in time with the music, but for Portia only one person in this glittering ballroom mattered. Only one person seemed real. “We’ve never danced like this before.”
His expression turned long-suffering. “You’ve always been as stiff as a board.”
Portia muffled a laugh. She couldn’t reveal how much fun she was having. Which was plaguey difficult when her heart danced faster than her feet. “Now I want to drape myself over you like a silk scarf.”
“Stop it, Portia.” That telltale muscle flickered in his cheek. “I’m having enough trouble as it is, not dragging you into the gardens to get you to myself.”
She liked hearing that. She liked even more hearing the agonized frustration in his voice. If she had to behave herself in public, he could suffer as well. “It’s pouring out there.”
“I don’t care. I want to kiss you.”
“Soon you can kiss me as often as you like.” She chanced a quick glance up into burning eyes. The heat lit a fire inside her, and she bit back a murmur of longing.
“Tuesday seems an eon away.”
It did. Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “Oh, Alaric…”
His grip on her waist firmed, bringing her nearer. “This is torture,” he snapped out through straight white teeth.
It was. It was also the most glorious pleasure. Her feet flew across the floor, and her body responded to his subtlest signals. Soon her body would respond to his signals in a bed. The carnal thought made her sight dim, and she’d have stumbled if Alaric wasn’t holding her so securely.
“Portia…” he growled. He didn’t need to say any more.
“You’re holding me too close,” she said in a strangled voice. That seemed like a foul lie. She wanted him to hold her closer still. So close that she felt his heart beating with the same excitement that made her feel like she was ready to burst into flame.
She sensed his reluctance, as he loosened his grip. With difficulty, she schooled her features into what she prayed was a lack of interest. She glanced around the room as if desperate for the waltz to end.
