“I need to practice with a partner,” he said simply when she showed every intention of stepping away from him again. She huffed, as if it was the greatest inconvenience to her. “Ye seemed to like my dancin’ last night, lass.”
“Let us not talk about that.”
“If I dinnae ken any better, I’d say there are lots of thing ye daenae want to talk about today.”
“Can we just dance, please?” she huffed.
“Aye, as ye wish.” He bowed to her, opening the dance, and she curtsied.
“Do not look at me as you bow.”
“Why nae?”
“Because…” she stood straight, biting her lip for a second before she found the words. “It’s not –”
“The done thing,” he finished for her, and she nodded. He bowed to her again, this time not looking her in the eye as he did so. It felt cold and impersonal, lacking the intimacy that the last bow had had. When he stood up straight, he offered his hand to her.
She looked behind her to the open doorway of the drawing room.
“We do not have a chaperone,” she murmured in a hurry.
“Mrs. Philips has work to do today, but I have kept the door open so the staff will see us and we arenae alone. Do ye nae trust ye are safe with me by now, lass?” he asked, his voice as gentle as he could possibly make it.
She turned to face him, a pleasant blush reaching up her cheeks. She nodded, wordlessly.
“Then trust me now,” he pleaded and beckoned with his hand again.
She moved forward, ready to take hold of him. Her hand touched his more tentatively than it had done before in either of their dances. He took hold of her waist, watching as she flinched.
“Did I do somethin’ wrong?”
“No, no,” she muttered hurriedly. “Now, begin.”
He did as she instructed, beginning the dance but being careful to take a smaller step as he did so. She didn’t look him in the eye, but steadfastly stared into the middle of his chest instead. He escorted her around the room, waltzing for a few bars before she stopped him, her hand tightening on his shoulder to give him the instruction.
“The rest of your dancing is fine,” she whispered, her voice very quiet indeed. “Just take that small step and don’t stare at your partner when you bow, and you should be fine. You are tall and strong enough to escort your partner safely around the floor.”
“Safely? I would never let any harm come to ye as we dance, Charlotte.” He said the words most particularly, wanting her to know how true they were. She nodded, but still didn’t look him in the eye.
They hadn’t released one another. He inhaled, feeling a shuddery breath that was taking hold of him.
Aye, we should have let go of one another by now.
He couldn’t though. Strangely, she wasn’t letting go of him either.
“Lass?” he whispered, uncertain what to say next. Should he talk of this intimacy between them, that neither of them were in a hurry to let go? Should he talk instead of the jealousy that had consumed him the night before when Mr. Withers had wanted to dance with her? To at least explain his rude behavior when he had demanded that dance?
“Yes?” She lifted her chin at last and looked him in the eye.
He grew distracted, staring at those blue eyes and the storminess within them. They were quite mesmeric, and she seemed to have no notion of their power over him. He moved his head toward her an inch, not thinking about what he was doing, and acting on instinct.
Then she gasped and released him.
“Erm, yes, yes, that dance was fine –” She stumbled straight into the nearest armchair.
“Charlotte? Are ye well?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear and walked around the armchair, using her hands on the back to steady herself. “I… I need to go.”
