Page 23 of The Dream of Love
She hoped so.
She wanted to believe in dreams coming true.
But she gave up hope as the last of their guests arrived. The orchestra struck up a lively reel. Mr. Squibb’s son claimed her for the dance. He was as full of himself as his wealthy merchant father was. His hand kept drifting lower on her waist every time they swung around. How long before he accidentally planted his sweaty palm on her backside?
But she had to keep her spirits up, remain hopeful.
Dreams do come true.
Dreams do come true.
Dreams do—
She inhaled lightly when Adam appeared in the doorway.
Oh, my heavens.
He looked splendid.
She craned her neck to follow him as he moved through the crowd toward her. He was not smiling by the time he reached the dance floor. Had he seen Mr. Squibb’s odious son and the direction of his hand?
He must have, for his gaze turned surprisingly predatory.
Suddenly it was as though everything she’d read inThe Book of Lovewas coming true. Adam’s gaze turned dark and threatening. He began to prowl along the edges of the dance floor like a lion penned in its cage.
Was she mistaken or did his chest suddenly swell? Although she had no desire to have young Squibb’s clammy hand on her backside, it was almost worth it to see how Adam would respond. But Squibb had also taken notice of Adam. His hand no longer roamed downward. Indeed, he was almost afraid to touch her.
She cast Adam a beaming smile as they twirled past him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t very tall and quickly lost sight of her proud lion as she was drawn into the center of a circle of dancers.
Adam strode toward her as soon as the dance ended. Squibb the Younger had returned her to Lavinia’s side and quickly left. Her heart began to pound wildly, for Adam was coming toward her and his expression was not in the least bit tame. “It’s to be a waltz,” Lavinia whispered excitedly.
She tried to appear calm as Adam reached her side. “I believe this dance is mine, Lady Remington.”
“Yes, Vicar. I have you clearly written in my dance card.” She took his offered hand, never mind that she had no dance card or even a pencil with which to write his name down.
He placed his arm around her waist and took her hand in his. “Are ye ready, R-r-remi?” he asked in his delicious brogue, his voice a deep, seductive rumble.
“I’ve been ready for you all of my life.” This was no time to mince words. She loved him, and the only question remaining was whether he loved her.
The music started.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be guided by Adam’s steps and the gentle touch of his hand. He was a surprisingly good dancer, quite graceful on his feet. Was it so different from the twists and turns when fighting on a field of battle? Since he was cavalry, she imagined him upon his deep-chested gray, guiding the steed left or right, forward or back with the slightest motion of his thighs, rider and horse moving as one.
“Remi, you look lost in a dream. Will you keep your eyes closed the entire dance?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid to open them. Is this real? Am I truly in your arms?”
“Aye, lass.”
“You’re talking like a braw Scot again. I like that. Thank you for dancing with me.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Will you claim me for a second?”
“And set tongues wagging?” He grinned. “Of course.”
She inhaled lightly. “Adam, do you think…that is…will you–”
A commotion in the entry hall startled everyone. Someone was shouting and pushing his way through the crowd. The music trickled to a stop as the orchestra stopped playing. “Oh, no.” She recognized her father’s apoplectic bellow.
Adam drew her behind him as her father stormed toward them. “Remi, stay back.”
