Page 8 of Tempting a Gentleman
He dropped his clothing on the settee, crouched by the embers, and blew. The flare of red told him the fire could be stoked back to life with a little encouragement. But could its mistress?
Once he had the fire roaring again, he turned back to see Emma intently staring into the flames.
She asked, “Do ye fink we could skip the lessons if I beg off sick the night of the ball?”
“You want me to lie to my brother?” He stood and commanded his feet to remain in place.
“No. Why would ye need to lie?”
“Because I’m expecting Landon to be waiting for me in my office at first light tomorrow. He’ll be expecting a full report on our progress.”
“Wotcha gonna tell him about this eve then?”
With a half-baked plan in mind, he replied, “The truth, of course. That we became acquainted, and that I intend to have directions with illustrations of the various positions sent over to you to study, and that we shall reconvene after work to practice.”
“Where’re ye getting these directions and pictures from?”
He puffed out his chest. “I’ll be drafting them myself.”
She let out a very unladylike guffaw. “Ye! I’m not sure stick figures will help me better understand yer long-winded explanations.”
“Long-winded?”
“Aye. That's wot I said.” She approached with a smirk that caught him off guard. Intrigued, he waited to see what she’d do next. Emma was beautiful when she let her guard down. She ran her hand along the outside of his arm. He slipped his hand into her small one and let her guide it to fall upon her waist. She looked straight into his eyes. “Ye didn’t flinch. I don’t bite either, but I heard ye might want to smile while ye dance.”
He let her take the lead as she positioned his other hand on the other side of her delicate waist. He grinned and said, “I thought you said you had no experience.”
“Is this how ye waltz?”
“Nay.”
“I didn’t fink so. But if yer not to be skittish about touchin’ me, I thought this might set ye at ease.”
Flinch? Skittish? Good lord, he wasn’t a colt to be tamed. He was here to guide her. She was to be the student and he the master. How did matters get so turned about?
When she rested her gloved hands upon his upper arms, she fitted him perfectly. He swayed slightly, and she froze.
“To dance, we must move in unison. Follow my lead.”
With the light pressure of his hands, he indicated which way she should move. Humming a melody, he pressed closer and led with his right leg forward, and within moments he found himself weaving her about the cramped room effortlessly. Never had he had a partner so in tune with his own body. Staring into her teal eyes, he spun her around for another two bars of the melody. His body vibrated in response to her closeness. Drawn by a magnetic pull, he lowered his head. Her lips were slightly parted, beckoning to him closer until their lips met. Her eyes closed at the soft pressure, and warmth blanketed his heart. For a split second, her features blurred with those of Arabelle’s, and he stumbled.
He righted himself. “Beg pardon, did I tread upon your toes?”
“Nay. But wot startled ye?”
He had been a fool to believe himself in love withi Arabelle. It wasn’t Arabelle’s sweet, innocent features that had his heart stuttering; it was this beautiful, enigmatic woman in his arms. At Emma’s tired but piercing look, he stepped back and released her. “It’s late.” He rushed to pick up his waistcoat and donned it like a shield to protect his heart that was pounding in the middle of his chest.
“If ye aren’t gonna be honest with me, ye better tell yer brother in the morn that there will be no more lessons.”
By god, this woman was fearless and direct. “For a moment, I lost my mind.”
“How?”
Honesty was the best policy. “I was confused.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her right forefinger.
“I briefly thought you were someone else.”
