Page 57 of Honeythorn
Jason waved him away. “Not at all. Only worried.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s quite all right. Lord Ledford, it’s good to see you.”
“Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met,” Raphael said.
“Mister Jason,” he said, as informal as ever.
“A pleasure,” Raphael said.
Jason turned back to look at Milan. “I still have that book I mentioned last time.”
“Yes, of course—we’ll have to meet soon.” Milan smiled.
“I’ll send you a note—hopefully responded to, this time,” he teased.
Milan laughed uncomfortably. “I’m sorry,” he said again. Jason shook his head.
“I’m only jesting. However, how about a dance to make up for it?”
Milan’s eyes widened. Surely,thatwas a bit bold. He felt Raphael stiffen beside him, although he said nothing of the invitation.
Milan cleared his throat. “I would be delighted, but I offered the first dance to my husband.” He looked up at Raphael, who was already staring back at him with a strange expression. “Shall we?” Milan suggested.
“Of course,” Raphael said. “Mister Jason. Miss Rosewood.”
They left their drinks on a nearby table before Raphael led Milan towards where other couples were dancing, even though it was the middle of a song.
Hand in hand, Raphael’s other on Milan’s waist, Milan’s on Raphael’s shoulder, they began moving.
“I met Jason during the last ball,” Milan felt the need to explain. “He has a book on an author I’m interested in that he offered to lend me.”
“That’s very generous of him,” he said, eyes not leaving Milan’s face.
“Yes, well…” He didn’t know why Jason’s offer to dance had shaken him so much. He just…things were going so well between Raphael and him. Milan didn’t want anything to spoil it.
The first dance finished, but Raphael didn’t make a move to step away. Milan smiled at him as they kept going.
“You’re a good dancer,” Milan said, his voice coming out soft for some reason.
“You are as well.”
There was something there in Raphael’s eyes. Something intense, like a coming storm. For the first time since they lay together, a familiar heat coiled in Milan’s stomach at Raphael’s presence. He was so warm, so solid in his hands. Milan felt his heart picking up the pace, and it had nothing to do with the exertion of dancing.
For three more songs, they danced together. They said nothing, just looking at each other, each moment more intimate than the last. Milan was almost trembling by the time they stopped, mouth dry.
“Something to drink?” Raphael suggested. Milan could only hope he had been as affected. By his dark eyes, Milan thought he just might have been.
“Please.”
Once they had their drinks, they stood side-by-side against a wall, sipping slowly.
“I’m guessing you accept fewer invitations to balls than you receive,” Milan ventured.
Raphael snorted. “Many.”
“You do not like them?”
