Page 19 of The Marquess's Scandalous Game
Emma cringed because her father was trying so hard to please.
“Thank you, Buckden. Miss Corbett, may I say how delightful you look this evening.”
He smiled, revealing even white teeth. Why in heaven’s name was she only just noticing his white smile?
“It is kind of you to say so, my lord,” Emma replied, forcing the corners of her mouth to raise in a smile.
He inclined his head as he asked, “May I have this dance?”
He was arrogant, titled, and overconfident. She would have loved to refuse, but alas, she could not. “It would be my pleasure, my lord.”
They walked through the crowds to the dance floor, and Emma heard the whispers.
“Was that not the very same Miss Corbett who refused to dance with Lord Adlington at the Livingston’s ball?” one of the ladies remarked.
“Indeed, but he has been making a very public show of courting her. I daresay, a lovely couple. Do you not think?” her companion replied.
Emma and the marquess were now out of earshot, so she did not hear the lady’s reply. She did not care. The song started and it was a waltz. He slipped his arm around her waist, which settled on her back. She felt a slight shiver but ignored it as she rested her hand on his arm. She could not pretend she did not feel his muscles flexing beneath the light touch of her fingers. Her breath caught in her throat.
He held her with strong hands and swirled her around the dance floor. She could feel his strength in every movement and every touch. A light flutter erupted in her belly. Despite her reservations, Emma liked the feeling of being in his arms. He created an aura of security and protection. She wanted that.
“You are a lovely dance partner with such refined talent,” she said. It was not flattery.
“Thank you, Miss Corbett,” he replied graciously.
She was ever so conscious of Lord Adlington’s firm build and the sinews of muscle roping his solid chest. She wonderedwhat it would be like to touch his skin. Would it feel as smooth as it appeared? She closed her eyes briefly and willed herself to concentrate on her steps. She would not risk an embarrassing fall. When she reopened her eyes, couples were twirling on the dance floor all around them, but they faded into a blur.
Emma glanced up, and his eyes gazed down at her, reflecting humor and a proprietary glint. Her heart pounded even more. She thought his gaze was far too intimate for the dance floor. She breathed in his scent of sandalwood, and it stirred her senses. She felt the heat on her cheeks.
“You appear flushed. Are you well?”
His tone was teasing and did not hold any genuine concern. Now she realized he knew what she was feeling.
“I am quite well, thank you,” she replied, pleased there was no tremor in her voice.
“Would you tell me if you were not?”
His voice was barely above a whisper, but it had such an effect.
“It depends on the nature of my complaint, my lord,” Emma replied sweetly.
“I would happily tell you about my complaint so you could use your healing powers to save me. You could give me a sponge bath if I have a fever.”
Emma gasped. He was wicked.
“I am an expert at sponge baths, which are quite effective,” Emma drawled. She could be wicked too.
Her gaze momentarily dropped from his eyes to his lips. Perfectly shaped. He opened his mouth but said nothing before he closed it again. At that very moment, the air in the room altered. Emma felt she could not get enough of it. She exhaled slowly.
Lord Adlington smiled. “I am beginning to realize that you are much more than I bargained for, Miss Corbett. You have a mind of your own, and I respect that. You will challenge me.”
“I am happy that I meet your approval, my lord,” she said tartly.
There was something about him tonight that kept quickening her heartbeat. She was aware of everything about him. Emma was sure she felt heat emanating from his body, traveling through her fingers, although she was wearing gloves. She wondered if he felt it too.
At the fading notes of the song, he twirled her around one last time, and Emma felt a pang of regret. She never wanted the dance to end and liked the feel of his hands on her. When the dance ended, Lord Adlington bowed to her and escorted her to the dance floor’s perimeter.
Emma watched him leave, although she wanted him to stay. Her father was engrossed in conversation with the Duke of Dudley, so Emma went for refreshments before taking a turn in the garden. She went through the crowd, the terrace doors, and down the stairs. She drank in the cool air, pleased to leave the muggy room behind. Emma walked until she came upon a bench tucked away behind a hedge and sat down. The smell of roses filled her nostrils, which made the respite even more pleasant.
