“But it’s your father’s title,” she finished.
He dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“We’ll just have to give you a nickname then,” she said, nudging his arm playfully. “I’ll call you…North. And everyone else will follow suit, just you wait.”
He laughed. “You seem awfully certain.”
“I can be quite convincing when I want to be.”
He grinned. “Of that I have no doubt. Now, how can I help you to survive this party with your sanity intact? Shall I leave a window open for you to slip away or—”
He trailed off at the sound of her laughter. “My mother would never forgive me. And besides, I cannot run from my awful dancing.”
He stared at her in surprise. “Your awful dancing?”
Her wince was comically exaggerated. “I bet you wish you’d thought to dance with me before you proposed, don’t you? But it’s too late now. You’re stuck with a terrible dancer for a wife.”
His laughter came far too easily. After so many years of barely laughing at all, it was odd how quickly he’d fallen back in the habit.
He held his arms out and nearly laughed again when she eyed him in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He stepped closer and pulled her into his arms.
Her gasp made his muscles tighten and awareness made his head cloudy. Her scent wrapped around him and the feel of her warm body in his arms was nearly his undoing.
He almost forgot his vow not to rush her as his gaze dipped to her lips before coming back up to find her wide eyes blinking rapidly in shock.
“You forget that I know you, Jane,” he said as he tugged her a little closer. “I’ve seen you climb over wet rocks, ride a stallion at a breakneck pace, climb out a window, and wade through mud.”
Her laughter filled the air between them and made his heart swell in his chest.
“If you are not the most graceful and elegant dancer in all of England, it is surely the fault of a horrible instructor,” he finished.
Her voice was still filled with laughter when she said, “I’ll be sure to tell Mr. Bouvier you said so.”
He arched a brow. “Dance with me?”
She hesitated only briefly before she nodded.
He loved that she did not point out that there was no music. They had no need, not with the wind and the crickets and the lapping of the lake against the shore.
She was perfection in his arms. The feel of her moving in time with him so delicious and so right, he knew without a doubt that he’d remember this feeling until the moment of his last breath.
“I knew it,” he said when the air was thick with tension and the world seemed to swim with the emotions that he couldn’t begin to put into words.
“Knew what?” She sounded distracted, and her eyes were dazed and dreamy.
His hand on her back pressed against her, the need to protect and take care of her so strong he wasn’t sure how he’d let her go tonight.
“You dance like a dream,” he said at last. “So I was right. You just didn’t have the right instructor.”
“Or maybe,” she said softly, her gaze flitting up to meet his. “I just didn’t have the right partner.”
He bit back a groan and his arms tightened, pulling her closer still until he could feel her body pressing against his, her skirts tangling between his legs, her breath a warm whisper against his open collar.
He’d lost his cravat and all sense of decency hours ago.
“You didn’t have the right partner,” he agreed. He held her gaze for a long while before adding, “And neither did I.”
