Page 21 of One Night of Temptation
“Well, we’ll see if waltzing with me trying to hum a tune is truly more entertaining—I’m not convinced.” Her lips curled into a half smile. “Ready?”
“No!” He laughed. “I’ve no idea what to do.”
She was completely distracted by him. “There are a few variations. You can either clasp my waist with one hand or both.”
“If I only use one hand, what do I do with the other?”
“We clasp hands,” she said. “As we are already.”
He squeezed her hand again. “Since we’re already halfway there…” He placed his free hand on her waist. “What do you do with your hand?”
“I place it on your shoulder.” She rested her hand on his coat. The fabric wasn’t as fine as the garments worn by the gentlemen she typically danced with, but the fit was superb, and he was every bit as handsome. No, he was more so. In fact, he was the handsomest man she’d ever met. And it wasn’t due to his alluring eyes or charming smile or athletic frame. Well, not entirely. His confidence and strength—and kindness—made him incomparable.
“Now, I’m ready,” he said.
She thought of a tune and began to hum, then abruptly stopped. “I forgot to tell you what to do next. Mostly, you just guide me around the dance floor in a sweeping circle in time to the music. Sometimes, it’s actually quite dizzying.”
He glanced about the small chamber. “I’ll need to be careful not to steer us into the chair. Or the bed.”
His mention of the bed sent a flush of heat through her, and she lowered her gaze to his cravat.
She began to hum again, and he started to move. He led them toward the fireplace and past it into the corner. With nowhere to go, he stopped and pivoted. “This doesn’t seem quite right.”
Another giggle threatened, but she kept humming. He recovered, guiding them back toward the table. “The sweeping circle you described sounds elegant and intoxicating. I’m guessing this is much less so.”
She couldn’t contain her laugh this time. “Stop. I’m supposed to be humming.”
“And you’re quite good at it. I have no musical skill whatsoever. If you’d asked me to hum, it might have sounded like an animal dying.”
She laughed again and stepped on his toe. Her gaze flew to his, her eyes widening. “Sorry!”
“I deserved it. I shouldn’t keep provoking your laughter.”
“Please don’t stop.” She grinned up at him, unable to recall the last time she’d had so much fun. In fact, she wasn’t sure she recalled a time ever. Certainly not like this. In the arms of a man who made her feel special.
“I want to try to make this a bit more dignified. Please continue with the music.”
She started to hum once more, and he began to sweep her in small circles about the room. They couldn’t move as quickly as on a wide dance floor, but that was better, for she didn’t become dizzy at all. Or maybe that was because her gaze was locked with his, and she was utterly lost in his embrace.
After some time, he slowed. “You stopped humming,” he said softly, drawing her closer.
Her chest lightly grazed his. The contact made her want to weep with joy. She’d had very little human contact—no touching or hugging. The poor cat who lived in the mews was the sole recipient of Penelope’s physical attention because she was the only one who allowed it.
But this was something different. Something more. She longed to slide her hand up his neck and clasp the back of his head. There, she could feel his warmth. And if she moved her fingers forward along his neck, she could feel the beat of his heart.
His hand curled around her waist, pulling her closer, his hand splaying against her lower back. She let her hand do as she wanted, finding the heat of his neck and the curl of his hair above the collar of his shirt.
He pulled her hand against his shoulder, then let go. But only so he could touch her cheek, his fingertips grazing her flesh.
She parted her lips, desperate to feel his mouth on hers. She’d never been kissed, never wanted to. Right now, however, she feared if he didn’t kiss her, she might die.
The sharp knock at the door pushed them apart, and once again they were saved by an interruption. Strange, but she didn’t feel saved. She felt disappointed and frustrated.
“I’m here for the dishes,” the feminine voice called through the door.
Mr. Tarleton unlocked the door and stood there while the young woman who’d propositioned him earlier gathered their plates onto a tray. She left the wine bottle and glasses.
With a lingering stare at Mr. Tarleton, she quit the room, and he closed the door firmly behind her.
