Page 69 of My Hellion, My Heart
Henry slid his palm across the ruched ivory chiffon along her back and felt her swift intake of breath. Every touch felt amplified, underscored by a subtle awareness that left his skin inflamed and tingling. Irina’s muscles leaped beneath his fingertips as his palm shifted to the curve of her waist, his little finger flirting with the rise of her hip. He suppressed the instant urge to slide his hand downward to curve over her bottom and crush her hips to his.
They had danced the waltz before, but something seemed different between them this time. The space between them was charged as if a lightning bolt was suspended in the middle of their bodies. It was to be expected, of course, after the intimacy that had occurred between them. The human body had a tendency to remember things that incited pain or pleasure. Henry ached to give her that pleasure again, to see and feel her shuddering in his arms.
After they completed the first turn, she exhaled and lifted her gaze to his. “My lord, I wish to apologize for what happened in the arbor.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
Her eyes searched his. “You must have overheard…”
“That Lord Remi, or Remisov, or whatever his name is, intended to propose?” Henry said stiffly. “I’m not sure what I did hear, but surely you are not considering accepting him?”
“I’ve had no better offers.” Irina studied the knot in his cravat. “Every man here is interested in a game…the thrill of the prize. At least I know that Max cares for me.”
“Does he?”
Irina nodded. “Yes, I believe he does.”
Henry’s palm shifted at her waist, his fingers moving restlessly. He knew if he said the wrong thing that she would shut him out. Clearly, she was blind to her friend’s faults. “And what if there are others who wish to make their interest known, but may be deterred by your obvious favor of Lord Remi?”
“Are there others?” Her voice was a whisper.
Henry made a split-second decision as they spun past one of the many open balcony doors. He’d wanted to eradicate them before, but now he was grateful for the escape and the privacy they offered. He intended to say his piece.
“What are you doing?” Irina asked, gasping as he drew her in the shadow of a lush treillage.
“What I’ve wanted to do since I saw you in this dress.” Irina blinked in surprise as he plucked a fragrant purple blossom from the nearby vines and tucked it into her hair above her ear. “There, now you are truly the goddess of spring.”
“You think me a goddess?” she asked, blushing.
Henry’s fingers brushed the soft skin of her nape, his knuckles skimming across the modest bodice of her gown and down her arm. He lifted her hand to his mouth, his intended words slipping away. “I think you are more beautiful than any goddess.”
Though her violet eyes held his gaze, he saw them begin to shutter. “You should not say such things. Lady Carmichael—”
“Has left,” he said, with a rough breath. “She has broken our betrothal.”
“She has?” Henry heard the shock in her voice. “But…why?”
“Because it was a farce.”
Irina bit her lips. “What about your title?”
“I don’t give a damn about it.” Henry drew a deep breath, his eyes flicking to a tall blond gentleman who had just appeared on the far side of the ballroom, his gaze searching the throng of dancers.
“You can’t mean that. You don’t plan to marry at all?”
“No,” he said, distracted. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” she repeated very slowly and very softly.
“Yes, you know it’s complicated, Irina,” he said, scrubbing a frustrated hand through his hair. Henry knew he did not have much time before Remi discovered them on the terrace, and all he could think of was warning Irina away. Save her from making a terrible mistake. “Irina, you cannot accept Remi.”
“Why not?”
“He is not good for you,” Henry said, noting the suddenly brittle tone of her voice and the pinched slant of her features.“He is not worthy of you.”
Irina’s reply was quiet, her gaze following his through the paned glass of the French doors. Her face hardened with understanding. “You are the last person to judge who is or isn’t worthy.” Her voice broke on the last word. “It’s not that complicated, after all. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, is that it?”
“No, Irina—”
