Page 41 of Taming the Scot
“Would ye care to dance?” he asked, nodded at Esme, who positioned her hands on the piano, ready to play.
“Me? Perhaps one of your sisters would be a better choice.” Bronwen searched out Maggie, who nodded encouragingly.
“Nay, ye’re the governess,” Maggie said. “It should be ye.”
This was going to be a disaster. Bronwen didn’t know the steps to any of the dances Maggie might choose. Only those from the taverns and the types of dancing done there was not likely anything at all that she should be instructing a man seeking a wife in ballrooms.
“I…” She swallowed, trying to think of a good excuse and finding none.
Euan took her hand and leaned in close, whispering, “Follow my lead, lass. For I am confident in this of all lessons.”
Oh, he smelled so good, freshly clean and spicy. Why did he have to tempt her in the most mundane ways?
She licked her lips, drawing in a breath to protest, but then the music started, and Euan pulled her into his arms, and she could do nothing to stop him as her limbs seemed to have a mind of their own. He placed a warm hand on her lower back. The other hand held his pinky finger aloft, ever so slightly falling between her pinky and ring fingers. On the next note, he twirled her about, the skirt of her gown swaying around her legs with every step.
Euan’s blue gaze locked on hers, and the smile that reached from his lips to those soulful eyes contained a sensuous flame she’d never be able to douse. It only seemed to light the fire within her, making it hard to catch her breath.
Every line of his hard body pressed to hers. One thigh and then the other. A calf, brushing hers before stepping away. Her breasts pushed to his chest, her abdomen to his. Their hips… It was delicious and wicked, and yet there they were, pressed together in such an intimate embrace—as they had been in the alcove—only this time, they were whirling about the ballroom floor for everyone to see.
For Bronwen, dancing had never been so sensual. Every inch of her skin was alight with prickles, and she wanted the music to go on forever. Being in Euan’s arms again had her forgetting all the promises she’d made to herself the night before about that embrace being the last.
“What is this dance called?” she managed to ask, her throat tight, her gaze on his chin.
“The waltz,” he murmured low in his throat.
Even the name of it sounded exotic and carnal. The waltz…
“Do ye like it?” he asked.
Bronwen nodded, looking up into his gaze this time and wishing she hadn’t. Saints, but his eyes were so incredibly blue and mesmerizing. “I do.” Too much.
“What do ye like best?” His voice was low, seductive. A slight curl of his lips told her how much he enjoyed this—whether it was the obvious reaction she had to him or just being with her, she couldn’t know.
Bronwen swallowed, unable to form the words, her mind a jumble. If she opened her mouth, she was liable to blurt out just about anything, and she didn’t want his sisters to hear her true thoughts, even a garbled version of them.
“Tell me.” Euan whirled them to the far end of the ballroom, perhaps sensing her hesitation in being near his sisters.
“The touching.” Oh heavens, had she said that aloud?
At her honesty, his full mouth widened into a grin that could melt butter, and indeed her insides were threatening to do just that. Parts of her were tingling that had no business doing so. The parts that had pulsed with want when he kissed her.
“I like that part too,” he said with a slow wink that made her heart skip a beat. “Especially with ye. Dancing lets us do what we wanted to in the alcove, but out in the open.”
“No’ everything,” she countered, attempting a little seductive teasing of her own.
Euan’s lips twitched, as he appraised her. “Ah, does that mean ye wish to kiss me again?”
“Ye’re incorrigible.” But he was right, and hadn’t she tempted him into saying it anyway?
“Maybe.” His smile was wicked and tantalizing. The expression should have made her run, but she held on instead because she apparently enjoyed self-torture.
As the music came to a close, and so too did their dance, unfortunately. As they returned to the other side of the ballroom where his sisters waited in a circle, Bronwen was surprised to see the stunned looks on their faces. They were quick to recover themselves, clapping instead by the time they reached them.
“The two of ye were magic.” Raine’s hands fluttered to her chest, and she gave a long sigh that seemed to speak to what the rest of the Irvine sisters were thinking.
A flurry of, “Oh, aye,” came from the line of them.
Heat filled Bronwen’s face, and she smiled, mumbling her thanks and unsure of what to do next. She glanced toward the polished wood floor and wrung her hands.
