Page 82 of Her Heartless Duke

When the music ended, there was a burst of applause and Olivia smiled up at her husband. A few young ladies went up to Olivia to praise their performance, which she accepted graciously.

“You truly do the Dukedom of Langley an honor with your grace, elegance, and poise, my love,” Isaac whispered in her ear, his warm breath fanning against the sensitive skin of her neck and sending shivers tingling down her spine.

“If we had joined the last dance competition, I think we stood a fair chance of winning,” she laughingly replied.

Her husband grinned back at her. “Perhaps, but I prefer to think we got better with time precisely because I now have a greater and more intimate knowledge of how you move.”

Olivia felt her face heat up considerably at that remark. Truly, he never really cared a whit whether they were in a ballroom or in the privacy of their shared bedchamber—Isaac would never fail to fan that insatiable flame that burned between them.

“But we are not here to win this competition now,” she reminded him. “We are here to support Fiona and Miles, remember?”

“True. But I still like dancing with you, anyway.”

She laughed. “We do not need a dance competition to dance with each other.”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper, “Perhaps a more private performance later, then?”

She shook her head as he steered her away from the dance floor. In the past three years, she began to see more of his mischievous side, and she loved him all the more for it.

Actually, there was nothing about him she did not love. She loved Isaac Anderleigh—wholly and without reservation. It was her greatest fortune that he felt the same way for her.

The participants for that year’s competition began taking up their places. One of them was none other than her own cousin, Fiona, who looked absolutely radiant in a dusty rose-colored gown shot through with gold thread, her hair coiled artfully on top of her head. She was on the arm of Lord Westmore, and cast a nervous glance at Olivia, who smiled widely at her in encouragement.

Lady Willow’s dance competitions were well-attended for one particular reason—its participants somehow always managed to find their perfect match, even amongst those who did not win. It was the same thing for Olivia’s parents, the late Earl and Countess of Lancashire.

Three years ago, she sought to win that same competition, if only to achieve something before she finally succumbed to her illness.

Her resolve to win had led her to Isaac and even if they were not able to participate in the dance competition as they had initially intended, they found each other and a love that set the entire London abuzz.

Mother, you were right, she whispered in her heart.I found my match through the dance competition, although not in the way I expected.

She felt his large hand squeeze her own and she looked up to find Isaac smiling at her. For Olivia it did not matter if she won the dance competition anymore—she had Isaac and that was all that mattered.

“What are you thinking of, my love?” he asked her softly.

She smiled up at him. “I was thinking of how I won the competition two years ago without really joining.”

His eyes softened. “Wewon that competition, my love.”

She nodded. “We did.”

The path to happiness was neither straight nor smooth. It was convoluted, fraught with twists and turns, and rocky at times. It was not for the faint of heart to traverse.

But for those who were brave enough and audacious enough to risk it all, it was well worth it.

The End?