“Now for some music.”
His hooded gaze turned skeptical.
Honoria pressed her lips together and hummed a melody. She kept the pace slow, her eyes watchful for any sign of strain, even a single drop of moisture.
A sly grin slowly spread across her face. “Admit it, you enjoy dancing beneath the blackened sky.”
He grunted in response.
“That’s all right,” she said. “I know the truth.”
“I’m not even sure why I’m indulging you.”
“Perhaps you like me.” Honoria batted her lashes up at him.
He sent her an amused glance. “I do notdislikeyou.”
“Marvelous! I do not dislike you either. We are both equally in like with one another.”
“Madness has surely seized you,” he muttered, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “That’s why you insisted on dancing.”
Och, Honoria was seized by something, all right. But she wasn’t so certain it was madness. In fact, her head had never been clearer. “I have not danced in ages, truth be told, and I miss it.”
“You don’t dance with your brothers?”
“I’d rather box their ears most of the time,” she confessed.
He reached out to smooth her brow. “You’re scowling.”
“I’m not scowling.”
“No?” He angled his head to the side, examining her. “That must be your usual countenance then.”
He stepped forward, smiling down into her eyes. She felt his arms circle her waist and his fingers flex on her back as he pulled her closer, the reel forgotten. A little thrill shot up her spine.
Her goal, her plans, all fled her mind. At that moment, all she wanted was to keep on dancing in his arms. He felt like all the dreams she’d been yearning for.
Focus, Honoria.
“What if I said I preferred this proximity?” he asked. His eyes kindled in a way that set her blood on fire.
Honoria swallowed. “I’d have to change my hum.”And demand you step closer still.
He chuckled, twirling her around.
“You seem at ease with dancing.”
“I am a man; I am supposed to be good at everything.” He whirled her around again to prove a point. “Besides, Rom love dancing, though Highland Reels are deeply rooted in tradition and not commonly practiced elsewhere.”
“True,” Honoria admitted. He twirled her again. “What is your best-loved dance? Other than spinning me in circles?”
His gaze swept over the gardens, lips curving. “The Flamenco.”
“I’ve never heard of such a dance.”
“It’s a form of dance I learned in Spain.”
“It sounds beyond exotic.”
