Page 69 of Enticing the Devil

As the people closest to him began to part and create a pathway to the dance floor, Beynon realized he had no choice but to do as the countess requested.

He reached the open dance floor first and crossed it slowly to where Lady Anne was stepping away from her friends to join him. Her approach was slow but not hesitant. And her gaze found his readily. She appeared composed and as proud and graceful as she ever was, but there was still a hint of something different in her manner. He couldn’t quite place it.

His heart thudded heavily against his ribs as she came to a stop in front of him, and though he knew he was likely glowering quite fiercely, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. At least Lady Anne didn’t appear to be affected by his dark countenance. There was just a subtle flicker of her lashes as she slid her fingers into his outstretched palm and stepped into proper position.

Beynon had learned the waltz and other social dances only a few months earlier. The steps hadn’t come naturally to him and he still felt stiff and awkward any time he tried it. But when he looked into Anne’s vivid eyes and the first notes of the song drifted around them, the necessary movements came easily. Soon, other couples joined them on the dance floor and he found himself relaxing into the steps and turns as his body moved in an instinctive rhythm with the woman in his arms.

With a sharp stab of desire, he suddenly wished he could make love to her like this. All languid and soft and unhurried. Their first time together had been a rush of feelings and sensations too powerful to regulate. It had been frantic and passionate and desperate. Fire and need.

Though his body was already responding with the same deep hunger and restless desire he’d felt then, he imagined a gentler scene. A slow, deliberate exploration. A quiet, unending feast of the senses—of pleasure in all its forms.

“You need to stop.”

Anne’s quiet admonishment interrupted his lurid musings but barely had an effect on his physical ardor. He met her gaze with a heavy frown. “Stop what?” His voice was unnaturally rough. “The dance just started.”

She glanced to the side then flicked her gaze back to his. “Not the dance. You must stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking. Surely you know how much you reveal in your expression.”

Her tone didn’t sound berating or offended. If anything, there was a gentle amusement running through the words. And her eyes, as she gazed up at him, sparkled with life.

He lowered his head toward hers, allowing himself to sink into her soft and verdant stare. “And what is my expression telling you now?”

Her lips parted yet her gaze sparked. “That you’d like to find the nearest closet.”

His heart stuttered and his brow twitched at her unexpected boldness. His fingers tensed against the curve of her spine as he glanced about them. But no one seemed to be watching them. He didn’t know what had caused this shift in her usually staid demeanor but he found himself responding in kind.

“Right now,” he murmured, “I’d prefer a feather bed, covered in velvet and silk.”

Her indrawn breath was quiet but still audible. The sigh that followed carried a rich undertone of...whisky?

His chin came up as he peered more intently at her. “Lady Anne, have you been indulging in spirits?”

She gave a quick little shrug. “Only a little.”

So that’s what she and the other ladies had been doing. It certainly explained her unusual manner. His brows drew low over his gaze. “You’re foxed.”

Tipping her head, she met his sudden glare with amiable defiance. “I don’t think so. I’m simply feeling far less tense and angry than I was an hour ago. I quite like it,” she added with a nod. Then her lashes lowered a bit over her gaze. Her next words were soft and husky. “Now, tell me more about this bed you were imagining.”

Beynon nearly groaned.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Thomas?” Her tone was distinctly challenging. “If we’re to be married despite my wishes to the contrary, I’d at least like to have something pleasant to look forward to.”

Right. Because nothing else about their union was likely to bring anything enjoyable.

“I’ll do my duty as a husband,” he muttered darkly.

It was clearly not what she wanted to hear. Her features immediately tightened as her chin came up and her gaze sharpened. “Your duty. How lovely. On second thought, Mr. Thomas,” she said curtly as she stiffened and slowed them both to a stop, “I believe this dance is finished.”

Then she pulled free of his arms and strode gracefully away, leaving him standing awkwardly at the edge of the dance floor.

He was tempted to follow her but he had no desire to make more of an arse of himself than he had already. So, he turned on his heel and headed in the opposite direction, his chest aching with a weight he feared he’d be carrying the rest of his life.

He should have known better than to indulge in fantasies that could never be between them. It was best to keep sight of reality.

She didn’t want to marry him.

Just because they’d allowed passion to reign once did not mean it could be expected to continue into their new circumstances. Lady Anne might still feel some thread of desire for him, but it was clear she hated him for forcing her into matrimony.

Very soon, she’d become his wife and return with him to Denbighshire, where her life would never be the same again. They both had to accept that. And everything that came with it.

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