Page 49 of The Bachelor

It looked like a Christmas gift wrapped in white paper and sealed with gold ribbon, where all one had to do was undo the ribbon to have the present open like a flower and reveal all sorts of good things inside. That was what he wished to do: unwrap every inch of her to see what lay beneath.

“Shall we begin?” she asked, her throaty tone merely enhancing his pleasant fantasy.

She’s talking about the dancing,you fool, not fulfilling your fantasy. Get your mind out of the gutter.

“I warn you,” he said as she came toward him, “this may not work.”

“All we can do is try,” she said lightly.

There was a white wicker settee piled with cushions next to where he stood, so she took his cane and propped it there. Then she paused to gaze down at it. “That’s a new cane.”

He was surprised she’d noticed. “A friend gave it to me after I broke mine earlier today.”

She caught her breath. “What friend?”

“The Undersecretary of War.”

“Oh, right. I forgot you had an appointment there today. Did it go well?”

“Well enough.”

He certainly couldn’t complain about the sword cane he’d found ready-made at Bennett & Lacy, along with the pair of travelers’ pistols that would serve him better than the duke’s ornate one. And the gunsmith was making him a cane with a pistol to hide in the handle, too, although it wouldn’t be ready for a week.

“This cane seems quite a bit stouter than your other one,” she said. “Does it have a sword in it, too?”

“It does. Why? Are you wanting lessons in swordplay now?” When delight leaped in her eyes, he said hastily, “That was a joke.”

“We could trade lessons,” she said with a minxish smile. “I’ll teach you to waltz and you can teach me to use a sword.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m not even sure Icanwaltz.”

“Right.” She came up to him. “For the first position—”

“Wait a minute.” He already felt unsteady without his cane. “How many positions are there?”

She avoided his gaze as she removed her gloves, then tossed them onto the cushions. “Only nine.”

“Nine!Are you daft?”

“Just try the first one, all right?”

“If you insist.” But if she was taking off her gloves, he was removing his, too.

Moving to stand next to him, she put her left arm across his back and his right arm across hers. That steadied him a bit. Perhaps hecoulddo this.

Then she said, “Now you keep your left foot facing forward while you put your right one perpendicular to it. Like this.”

He stared at the perfect V her feet made and felt defeat swamp him. “I’m sorry, dearling, but my right calf and foot won’t move that way.”

“Of course they will, if you just—” She caught herself. “Oh. You mean theycan’tmove that way.”

“Exactly. They’re pretty much frozen in their present position.”

She lifted her gaze to him, her cheeks stained scarlet. “I didn’t realize . . . that is, practically every step of the waltz requires both the man and the woman to put their feet like that or point them or some such. So the waltz definitely won’t work. I am so very sorry.”

“I’m not.” Relieved that he hadn’t had to fall flat on his face to prove he couldn’t dance, he pivoted to pull her fully into his arms. “It allows me to hold you without having to watch my step and count off the beat.”

“We could try . . . another dance,” she breathed, though she readily put her arms about his waist.