Chapter 5
“You’ve a deuced odd look on your face.”
Adam Duke did not even turn to Tony. Instead, he lifted his chin and declared, “I’m waiting.”
Tony stood beside him in the crush of people, wine glass in hand. Their backs were to the wall, large palm fronds on either side. He followed Adam’s line of vision as he prompted, “For?”
“To see if my rudeness has resulted in reward.”
Tony stopped, glass aloft, then turned to stare at him agog. “What have you done?”
Adam still avoided Tony’s gaze. In truth, he was concerned he’d gone too far. And he’d no idea why he’d done it. Adam glanced again to the double doors leading out to the garden which, at this moment, were providing a welcome breath of air in the hot gathering. He willed her to appear. Willed her to take up his gauntlet.
My God, he’d been surprised by the crackling defiance in her stance. The way she’d gripped that cane, brandishing it at him with great vigor had been the most. . . Glorious thing. She was not a woman to be trifled with. And weren’t those the best kind?
Still, he’d pushed. Hell, he’d shoved. Demanding she dance with him. What if she couldn’t? What if he’d been cruel? She was a woman who had suffered no uncommon loss, and she’d been of delicate birth, likely having her way all her life. What had he done?
He winced.
No. He refused to believe he’d been wrong. Because one couldn’t let hell swallow one up. Only bitterness resulted in that. And Lady Beatrix didn’t deserve a life leached of living. No, she deserved to blossom, like a flower drinking its first drops of rain after a long drought. She owed it to herself.
So, he stared again at those open doors. Desperately hoping she would come in and teach him a thing or two.
Adam said from the corner of his mouth, “Let’s just say, I’ve prodded the tiger.”
“Oh God,” Tony groaned, knocking back his glass of wine then plunking it on a passing tray. “You met her. Didn’t you?”
He gave a succinct nod. Clearly, being specific about who the her was, was completely unnecessary.
Tony snatched a glass of champagne from another tray being wielded about by a liveried servant. “Well, at least tonight won’t be boring.”
With that, as if summoned by his hopes, Lady Beatrix poked her head through the doors, gazed around and blanched. If someone so pale could blanch.
No one had spotted her yet, but he could see it on her face. The weighing of decisions. Her face tensed, her lips tensed. What would she decide? Would she decide to come and show him or would she retreat to seeming safety? Except there was nothing safe to isolation.
He knew it all too well.
Isolation was the death knell of hope. Isolation was the beginning of another sort of internal death.
“You can do it,” he found himself whispering, longing to cross the room and yank her in. But she had to do this herself.
“What are you nattering about?” Tony asked. “You didn’t drink that much gin. And I—”
Tony broke off, as did half the company, as the young man gazed across the room.
Without fail, the vast majority of the gilded ton turned to the figure of Lady Beatrix entering the long hall. She did not stride but hobbled, her slippers peeking out from under her simple, white muslin gown. However, her stance, her presence? They were as arrogant as a queen.
It did not matter that she was not in an evening gown. Somehow, in the candlelight, the simplicity of her thin, white gown, with its small capped, embroidered lace sleeves, was stunning and seductive. The light of the candles danced upon her, showing every curve of her beautiful body beneath the light fabric.
Her icy gaze swept over the hoard of aristocracy as if she thought them all muck beneath her toes. A brow arched as if ready to defy any who might gainsay her or offer her pity.
He groaned. It was, of course, one way to deal with people who gaped. Disdain was a familiar animal to him. Yet, it would bring her no relief. If anything, it would drive people away which, of course, was what she wanted. But loneliness would eventually creep in and that was a cruel knife.
Her chin lifted and she searched the bejeweled, silk-wearing crowd.
Searched for him. So, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he stepped forward and strode across the highly-polished wood floor. His steps seemed to echo in his own ears, impossible of course, at the strange silence of the room. Even the music had fallen silent between the sets of dances.
Those glorious blue eyes narrowed as she spotted him. She did not move. Beautiful, still, regal. She resembled a living Grecian goddess. Not Aphrodite, but Diana perhaps, goddess of war. Goddess of the moon.
As soon as he stood before her, he bowed slightly.
She arched that brow even higher and tilted her head to the side. Her dark, undressed hair was a wild riot of curls against her neck. “Well, here I am. Are you prepared for us to make fools of ourselves.”
“I’d like nothing better,” he replied and he meant it with every damned fiber of his being.
“Let’s get on with it,” she said with forced confidence.
“They need something to talk about, after all.”
She thrust her cane out. What might have seemed a strange gesture suddenly made sense when a passing servant swept the cane up in his gloved hands as if he did such things every day.
Adam fought a smile at her determination. But then he spotted it; the slight fear in her eyes, and the ever so slight trembling of her gloveless hand as she reached out. He took her small hand in his, steadying it.
For one brief moment, the world stopped. Time stopped. And there was nothing but them and the feel of her ungloved hand in his gloved one. The shock of her bare hands would, no doubt, be on everyone’s lips tomorrow. But at this moment, he didn’t care about it. Not at all. His mind was consumed by other thoughts. Consumed by her and her courage.
In all his years, he’d felt nothing like this moment and it was damned tempting to let go of her fingers and end the sensation as quickly as possible. To shake the momentous feeling away. But he’d started this and he wasn’t about to leave her in the breach.
She made slow progress towards where other couples were waiting to dance, yet watching them. Adam slowed his own long stride, making as if it were the most wonderful thing but to take his time with her.
Her slippers patted over the polished wood floor. Once she was well onto the area reserved for dancing, she turned towards him.
The hem of her pale, light gown brushed over his evening shoes. The feel of her skirts brushing against his legs felt memorable, shocking even. Which was absurd because such an innocent gesture should have meant nothing.
Somehow, it did not.
Fortuitously, the orchestra began to play a slow, but seductive tune as he faced her squarely.
Fear. Fear shone in her defiant eyes.
“Trust me,” he whispered, a barely audible sound.
“I’d trust the devil first,” she hissed, defiance replacing the fear, but only for a moment.
Carefully, pointedly, he slid his arm to her waist and he lifted her ever so imperceptibly, leaving nothing but her toes on the floor.
Her stunning blue eyes flared with shock and then a glimmer of what he’d longed to see. Hope. Hope flashed there. And the triumph he felt in that moment, not for himself, but for her, burned through him like the most delicious wine and he knew without a doubt that he wanted to drink her to her full. And he was about to be in exceptionally dangerous waters.
Fortunately for himself, he was an excellent swimmer.
*
Terror throbbed through her as she headed onto the floor, surrounded by the gazes of the very people she usually avoided at all costs. Each step was slow, deliberate and she could not hide her limp. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, wondering how the devil she’d allowed him to goad her into his.
What was one meeting between strangers? Nothing. It should have been nothing. Something she could have easily brushed aside and never given another thought. Yet, here she was. In his arms, enfolded in his power and seductive presence.
Was it his wildness? That freedom she’d seen which had made her so determined to not let him think her a total prisoner of her circumstances?
Whatever it was, she wished she had not heeded it. For how was she going to manage this? Walking was painful. Dancing? Surely, it would be a travesty. Manage this? How she longed to let out a bitter laugh. She wasn’t going to be able to. This night would fall into all her painful memories which kept her such close companion.
Saliva filled her mouth as a scene flashed before her eyes. She envisioned herself tripping and falling to the floor, needing to be picked up in front of hundreds of voracious eyes, ready to gossip at her misfortune.
Still, it was far too late. She could not back down now.
As the music started, he took her hand. Her heart hammered in her chest as his big, gloved palm swallowed hers. It was so strong. So gentle as he led her.
Carefully, he placed his hand on her back and she could scarce countenance the sudden heat that raced through her. The power of it shoved a great deal of her fear to the back of her mind as she was suddenly faced with him.
He towered over her. More than six feet of a man with Herculean shoulders stood before her. Unlike so many of the gentlemen of her acquaintance, he was a behemoth and. . . Untamed.
That’s what it was. He did not fall into pleasantries or assurances. Instead, he simply acted.
His strong embrace lifted her off her feet and the pain in her leg abated as he took the pressure off of it.
She stepped to the first beat of the music and winced. It still hurt, but not nearly as much as she assumed it would. Soon, he was swirling her and helping her to make the turns. She barely had to do anything. And more, there was nothing awkward about it. His strength and confidence were so strong as the skirt of her gown belled about her legs.
A feeling of awe settled over her as she realized that this was truly happening. This was not some torturous dream wherein she was teased by a future she could never have.
Could she dance?
As he led her around the floor, picking her up and gently placing her beside him at every opportunity, she realized that, with him, yes she could.
With him, she traveled the floor with ease. It was tempting to look at the faces encircled about the floor. She longed to see their responses. But she could not tear her gaze from him. From the strength and confidence which seemed to be flowing straight from his body to hers.
And for the first time in months, she felt light. The burdens of the past lifted and she allowed herself to be transported by the music and his presence. It was absolutely terrifying.