“I’ll depart and not return,” she replied, her stomach roiling at her boldness.
His eyes narrowed. “That would be rather dishonorable of ye, considering our original agreement was that ye would allow me to teach ye to dance if I offered Rutledge a position and suggested he marry Lady Fanny.”
“No,” she said, thinking quickly. “We never agreedhow longI would allow you to teach me to dance. I am here now, and you have all day to instruct me, but if we have no agreement in regard to our friends, then you only have today to attempt your seduction.”
“I better start immediately,” he replied, pulling her to him so that their chests brushed. The unrelenting hardness of his body sent a shiver through her and almost made her forget that she had just wagered and lost. It seemed he would not agree to her proposed bargain—that he would rather lose the guarantee of her returning here than attempt to persuade his friend to marry a woman Simon thought deceitful. Anne was both glad and disappointed at once, but there was no time to think of either feeling as Simon began to talk to her, his Scottish accent like a whisper of allurement causing gooseflesh to cover her arms.
He slid one of his hands to the small of her back, where he gently pressed it against her while his other hand held hers up as he gave directions. “When I move forward, ye need only move back in the same way. Do ye understand?”
She nodded, believing she did, but the minute Simon stepped forward with his right foot, she did the same with hers, her slipper landing squarely on top of his hessian. “I’m so sorry!” she gasped, clumsily moving off his foot. Heat burned her cheeks and her neck.
“What for? I did not feel a thing. Let us go again,” he said in a kind, reassuring voice.
For the next half hour, she tried and failed to follow his lead, stepping on his toes more times than she cared to count. He was endlessly patient, and she was mortified, so much so that she finally shoved him away and turned from him. She crossed her arms in front of her, all the frustration with herself from the past—not being able to run, skip, or even hop properly as the other children had done—threatening to drown her. Self-pity rose in her chest.
“I cannot dance. I’ll never be able to dance. You are an excellent teacher, but I—” She swallowed hard, shame clogging her throat. She was a young child once more, wishing so hard to be like the other girls when it would never be so. And she was afraid to try, afraid she would look foolish as she so often had, and then what would Simon think of her? Would he inwardly laugh? Suddenly, she was tugged around to face Simon, and he captured her chin in his hand while staring into her eyes.
“Ye need only to trust me and to let go of yer fear of what I might think.”
“How am I supposed to—” Before she could complete her sentence, Simon gripped her waist, lifted her, and set her feet on top of his. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
He grinned at her. “Seducing ye, remember?”
And then he did the most amazing thing: he started humming to her as he danced her around the room. He twirled her around once, twice, a dozen times. He leaned close to her, his stubbly cheek brushing hers, and whispered, “Close yer eyes.”
She complied without hesitation, feeling no fear at all, only a sense of exhilaration.
“After I put ye on yer own two feet, when I step forward, ye will step back. We’ll go right, then left, aye?”
“Aye,” she teased, attempting a Scottish accent.
The sound and feel of his chuckle tightened her belly as he twirled her around the room again and again. He paused and was lifting her, but this time he set her on her feet. Slowly, she opened her eyes and found him smiling at her. “Shall we dance?”
She nodded, praying she would not misstep. He waltzed her very slowly the first time, and when they completed the turn about the room, he said, “Ye are the most beautiful dancer I have ever had the pleasure of partnering.”
She looked up into his beguiling face. Desire for this man made her tingle all over. “And you are the most persuasive rogue I have ever had the pleasure of dancing with. Shall we continue?”
“By all means, Anne,” Simon said, his words sliding over her like silk. “Yer wish is my command.”
He took her once more in his arms, but this time the waltz was effortless, and she laughed at the feeling of joy it brought her. They waltzed for so long that the light filtering into the ballroom from the tall windows began to fade and her foot, which sometimes pained her a bit from the way the rise in her shoe chafed at her heel, started to bother her. Even with the dull ache in her foot, though, she was reluctant to stop. So when Simon suggested he also teach her a country dance, she agreed enthusiastically.
This dance was much livelier, and after she had learned the steps and they went through the dance twice, uncontrollably laughing together, she realized that her foot was now aching too much to continue. “I must stop,” she said breathlessly. She came to a staggering halt as a shaft of pain shot through her bad leg. Quite suddenly, her knee buckled, and she let out a shocked gasp as she fell.
But she did not hit the floor. Simon caught her, scooped his arm under her legs, and brought her up against his chest, her feet dangling in the air. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his concern warming her.
She tapped her bad leg. “It’s my leg.” She glanced down, embarrassed. “I must have overtaxed it.”
“Why did ye not say anything?” he scolded. He strode across the room to a chair and set her in it. Then he surprised her by coming to kneel before her. “Well?” His incensement at her overtaxing herself made her want to laugh.
“I didn’t want the dance to end,” she admitted.
“I’m pleased to hear it, but ye must heed yer body’s warnings. Where did the pain start?”
“In my foot. My grandfather had a special shoe made for me not long after I came to live with him, and it has been wonderfully helpful. It… Well, it evens my gait.” She could feel the heat of her mortification to the tips of her toes.
“Anne,” Simon said, taking her hands in his. “None of us are perfect. Our imperfections are what make us interesting, and it is in overcoming them that we grow and develop good character.”
She gaped at him for a moment. “Who told you that?”
