Page 22 of The Lady Was Lying (Greydon #3)

James glanced briefly at Sebastian, as if he hadn’t been the one to suggest they dance together in the first place. The peculiar expression on her brother’s face didn’t give any indication of whether he regretted the suggestion. “Apologies. In that case, it would be my pleasure to dance with you.”

Frowning slightly, she wondered why he was so hesitant. Annoyed with herself for even considering his feelings, let alone caring about them, she asked, “Shall we?”

He nodded and held out his arm. “We shall.”

Placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, she allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.

Instead of barreling into the middle as most men of her acquaintance tended to do, he halted on the outskirts.

Part of her liked that he didn’t need to be in the center of the room.

The other part wondered whether he was trying to avoid drawing attention.

Did he not want to be noticed while dancing with her?

He halted, his expression somber when he pivoted to face her.

One of his hands floated into the air and the other landed just above her hip.

Her hand rose to fit into his as she settled into the loose embrace.

To an outsider, they probably appeared the same as everyone else.

Formal evening wear that was tailored to fit perfectly and appropriate space between their torsos, but something was different.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to step closer.

More contact was completely unnecessary during a waltz. Not only would it be scandalous, but they also wouldn’t be able to adequately perform the steps if they were pressed tightly together.

Or would they?

She’d never seen anyone dance wrapped around each other, but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed possible. If they were close enough, perhaps they would move as one.

The first notes of the waltz rose above the din, and James swept her into the dance.

It had been an age since she had danced with anyone other than her brothers, but it was surprisingly easy for her to follow his lead.

He was sure-footed and moved confidently, swirling around the other dancers as if he could sense exactly how they were going to shift.

There was a fluidity to his dancing that was entirely unexpected, and a grace that could only be natural.

Rarely did she allow herself the luxury of closing her eyes and letting herself become absorbed, but after a few rotations, she was so assured by his ability to lead that she allowed her lids to slide closed.

If she’d taken the time to realize how relaxed she had become, she probably would have opened them again for no reason other than to break the aura of intimacy that had settled around them.

As it was, she found herself uncharacteristically lost in the moment.

They spun around and around the crowded dance floor, and the world shrank until it seemed as if they were the only two people who existed.

The flickering candlelight.

The heavy perfume.

Everything faded away except for the lilting music and the sweeping motion of their bodies.

After several minutes of bliss, the music tapered off, and they glided to a slow stop on the opposite side of the ballroom from where they had begun.

Her lids slid open and the unusual intensity in his gaze held her captive.

Entranced by the amber depths, she might have remained in his arms for the rest of the evening if she hadn’t been jostled from behind.

He tightened his grip and kept her from falling, but the spell she was under shattered when their bodies collided, chest to chest, thigh to thigh.

With one of his hands still resting on her hip and the other clutching her fingers, he was able to smoothly separate them so they only remained pressed together for the merest of seconds, but the damage had been done.

He was warm and firm and strong, and the feeling of his body against hers had inspired something she’d never experienced before.

Was the sensation that spread through her attraction? And if it was, what on earth should she do about it?

For years, she had operated under the assumption that if she ever felt the stirrings of a true connection, she would innately know how to respond. How wrong she had been.

Nothing made sense.

Not in her head.

Or in her heart.

The ballroom was a blur as he escorted her back to her brother. Tingling warmth lingered in every spot they had touched, as awareness that they were in a crowded room surrounded by other aristocrats slowly returned.

When they halted next to her family, the conversation swirled around her, but she paid little attention to what was said. James conversed with Jane, who had returned from the retiring room, and with Sebastian and Emmeline.

Before Belinda had managed to gather her thoughts, James bowed and then, with a fleeting glance in her direction, disappeared into the crowd.

A moment later, a young man who barely looked old enough to shave bowed over Jane’s hand and led her toward the dance floor.

Relatively confident that Jane’s newest dance partner would not lead her astray, Belinda took the opportunity to slip away.

The hallway that abutted the ballroom did not offer the quiet she craved, so she wound her way through the crowd.

As unobtrusively as possible, she disappeared into a shadowed hallway that was probably meant to remain deserted.

Aware that its proximity to the public rooms would make it ideal for a rendezvous, she kept going until she was so far away, she couldn’t hear anything except the quiet swish of her skirt and the near silent press of her slippers on the carpet.

An empty alcove beckoned, and her eyes slid closed as she sank against the window, relishing the chill that seeped through the delicate material of her gown. The ballroom had been warm, the dancing had made her warmer, and the sudden splash of cold helped to ground her.

“You are so blasted beautiful.”

Her eyes shot open and locked on the man leering at her. “Lord Edwin. I did not invite you to follow me.” She hadn’t even seen him that evening.

He ignored the warning in her tone. “I feared I’d never have the opportunity to get you alone.

” He advanced until his toes brushed her skirts.

“It is difficult to get close enough to arrange a rendezvous when you glare at every man who looks in your direction.” He huffed.

“You aren’t nearly as sociable as you once were. ”

“’Tis not an accident. I do not wish to rendezvous.”

“Nonsense.” His lips curled upward. “A chit like you can’t resist.”

His certainty stung, but the fact that she hadn’t resisted in the past didn’t mean she couldn’t resist now. Shifting her weight, she drew herself up to her full height. “I assure you, I can refuse whenever I want.”

“But why would you?” He laughed like he was uproariously funny. “We’ve been circling each other for years, waiting for the right time.”

“This isn’t the right time.” There would never be a right time, because she didn’t want to kiss him.

It was a startling revelation.

Perhaps the control she had exhibited that evening was not only for her sister. Had something inside of her changed?

“Let me taste you.” His lips puckered and his hand darted toward her hip.

She swatted it away as she lifted her other hand and, with unerring accuracy, smacked it across his cheek. The crack of her palm echoed in the quiet. The sting of heat that lingered from the contact emboldened her. “Do. Not. Touch. Me.”

His jaw flexed as he reached up to finger the place where she’d struck him. “You hit me.”

“I’ll do it again if you don’t step away.”

He stumbled several paces backward. “You like kissing.”

“Do I?”

“Y-y-yes,” he stuttered. “Kissing and a bit of fondling. You never raise your skirts like your mother, but you never turn a bloke away either.”

“I’m turning you away.”

His brows drew together, and his shoulders slumped. “What is wrong with me?”

“I’m no longer engaging in stolen kisses.”

“Ever?”

“ Ever .”

Her heart pounded, its rhythm unsteady as she darted around him.

It seemed unlikely that Lord Edwin would follow, but she didn’t want to encourage him, so she flew around the corner and ran straight into the hard wall of a well-dressed man.

His hands reached out to steady her and it only took a second for her to recognize her brother.

“Sebastian.” She clutched his forearms. “I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell you I was stepping away.”

He searched her face. “What is amiss?”

“Nothing.” The lie fell from her lips. Her brother didn’t need to know about Lord Edwin or her rebuff of him.

“Why were you running?” he asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Because I realized you must be searching for me, and I wanted to return as soon as possible. I gave you my word I’d not sneak away, and then I sneaked away.”

“You needed a moment.”

He was too understanding sometimes. “I suppose so.”

“Is it because I practically forced you to dance with Avondale? I wanted to kick myself as soon as I said it.”

“Not at all. He’s an able dancer,” she lied.

“His ability is hardly relevant. You asked me to help you keep your distance, and instead I thrust you together.”

“It was only a dance.”

“When I saw him leave the ballroom, I feared you had disappeared because you had planned a tryst with him while you danced.”

“I haven’t seen him since he walked away.”

Thankfully .

She couldn’t imagine what she would have done if she’d run into him instead of her brother.

Sebastian sighed with obvious relief. “The evening is winding down. Jane only has one more dance before we can make our farewells. Shall we return together?”

Grateful that he had accepted her version of events, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her back to the ballroom.

As they walked, they discussed whether Arianna would be asleep when they returned to the townhouse. Sebastian was convinced that his daughter had a sixth sense because no matter the hour, she nearly always appeared at the top of the stairs to demand kisses when they returned.

The mundane conversation gave Belinda something to focus on other than the events of the evening. At some point, she’d have to examine her tumultuous emotions, but the crowded ballroom was not the place to do it.