A Reckless Encounter

“You don’t really want me to do that.”

“Yes, I do!”

He pressed it even lower and she took a jerky step away from him. Not releasing her hand, he turned her in the steps, at last moving his hand up her back again.

She was stiff, unyielding, her face a set mask of white fury and blazing green eyes that narrowed up at him like a cat, spitting fury and uncertainty. Her tawny hair was piled atop her head in an intricate style, fastened with some kind of comb made of gold wire and stars. It glittered in the reflected light of crystal chandeliers.

What would she look like with her hair tumbled across a pillow, those lips parted and her eyes half-closed…A tempting thought.

“You move most agilely for a marionette,” he observed when she resisted his effort to turn her.

“Your meaning escapes me, my lord.”

“Does it? You move as stiff and wooden as a puppet jerked by strings.” He swung her about before she could pull away. “Relax. I don’t intend to eat you.”

Her head tilted back smoothly, so that her eyes met his in a steady gaze. “If you find me unresponsive to your charms, my lord, I can only assume that you wish to charm me. Is that the case?”

Amused, he deliberately studied her upturned face until she looked away. “Are all Americans as direct as you, Miss St. Clair?”

“I have no idea. Do you find me too forthright in my replies?”

“To the point of rudeness.” He smiled at her angry gasp. “Perhaps it’s the custom in America.”

“No,” she said after a moment. “It’s not the custom. I have behaved badly, my lord, and I apologize.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. Her apology was too ready and too glib; he didn’t believe it for an instant.

“Apologies are easy, Miss St. Clair. What restitution do you offer?”

“Restitution? You expect too much, my lord.”

“I disagree.”

The waltz would be ending soon. He steered her toward the far end of the ballroom, a subtle curve that she had not yet noticed. She arched her head to look up at him.

“Your arrogance is outrageous, my lord. It’s easy to see that you have earned your wicked reputation.”

“May I ask why you took a sudden dislike to me?”

For a moment he thought she would not answer, then she said, “Perhaps I do not wish my name added to your long list of conquests.”

“A list that is long in supposition and short in actuality.”

“Nonetheless, your attentions can both elevate and ruin a lady’s reputation. Discretion, it is said, is everything.”

“And so it is. Then it would be indiscreet to dance with you again.”

Her upward glance was oblique. “More than four dances in an evening and my reputation will be in tatters.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll dance with Lady Jersey five times. That would set tongues wagging and add to my wicked reputation.”

“You jest, my lord!”

“Yes, Miss St. Clair, I jest.” She was light on his arm, tall enough that her eyes were level with his jaw, taller than most women of his acquaintance. A faint smile curved her mouth and laughter gleamed in her eyes.

They had reached the far end of the ballroom where a chill breeze filtered in through doors that led onto a wide terrace. Two steps took them through it, and they were outside. She didn’t seem surprised.

“Why did you bring me out here, my lord?”