A challenge.
Test the waters and experience exhilaration—but risk being dashed to flinders on the jagged rocks.
“Oh, I suppose that’s because I’ve had a lot of practice lately,” she replied airily, after they had spun through a breathless turn.
Was she deliberately trying to provoke him?
Narrowing his gaze, Alec searched her expression for any hint of mockery in her expression. But Caro kept her face at precisely the right angle to hide her eyes. A clever, sophisticated ploy, no doubt, learned in the fancy Mayfair ballrooms.
As for her lovely mouth, and the delectable little curl playing at its left corner…
He masked the sudden urge to touch his tongue to the spot with a brusque cough. “With all your elegant footwork, I imagine you’ve twirled out a number of marriage offers, if not from Andover, then from a host of other besotted swains.” His own steps seemed to turn more leaden, though why was not something he could explain. “Is that why you are rusticating in Bath? To mull over which tulip of the ton to accept?”
Her mouth thinned, and he could almost feel the prickles sprouting from her smooth skin. “I am here in Bath because my mother has been feeling poorly and she wished to take the waters.” Her spin through the next turn was not quite so smooth as before. “As for my gaggle of offers—or lack of them—I cannot imagine that is of any interest to you, Lord Strathcona.”
Alec gave himself a mental kick for spoiling the moment of harmony between them. “I am sorry,” he said stiffly. “I do hope your mother will fully recover her health.”
“You are acquainted with my mother,” she replied, a hint of humor returning to her voice. “She would be quite unhappy if she had nothing to grouse about.”
Alec noted that Caro tactfully omitted the fact that Lady Trumbull was not overly fond of him. She preferred gentlemen with polished manners and prestigious titles. A lowly Scottish baron was not the sort of suitor she wanted sniffing around her daughters.
Not that he had been sniffing—it had been more snorts. And growls. Lady Trumbull had misjudged the dangers swirling around Dunbar Castle. The threats to her daughters had not come from him.
“But that said,” went on Caro, “we are hoping the thermal hot springs will help ease the creaking in her knees.”
Another sliver of silence, this one sharp with regret for having ruined the interlude. But it was best, he reminded himself, to keep a distance, keep a detachment.
Danger lurked all around him and in far more sinister shapes than a spitfire beauty. Shadows and secrets were swirling like a poisonous mist, and the thought of the nameless, faceless threat sent fear slithering down his spine. Isobel was so very vulnerable, as was…
It took him a moment to realize the music had ended and the sensation was half-caused by Caro surreptitiously squeezing his shoulder.
“We can stop now,” she whispered. “You ne
ed not keeping counting the seconds until the ordeal is over.”
He blinked, trying to clear the last fugue of brooding from his head. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she countered.
“For asking you to dance,” he replied without thinking—then realized he had just put his foot in his mouth.
“Oh, I haven’t had such fun in ages,” said Caro. “Though clearly the same can’t be said for you.” In contrast to the coolness of her voice, the intensity of her gaze nearly scorched his skin. “In the future, you need not feel compelled to heed your sister’s commands.”
He drew in a deep breath, but to his relief, Isobel and Andover chose that moment to reappear.
“Oh, the waltz looks like such fun,” gushed his sister. “But Lord Andover warned me that a young lady may not dance it in Bath without having been approved by the Assembly’s Master of Ceremonies. Otherwise she runs the risk of being considered ‘fast’ by Polite Society.” A sigh punctuated the explanation. “So we had to sit out and watch.”
“Silly strictures, I know,” murmured Andover, shooting him an apologetic look. “But it seemed prudent to err on the side of caution and not stir needless gossip.” Caro’s friend then looked back at Isobel and smiled. “By next week’s Assembly, Miss Urquehart, you will certainly have permission through the proper procedures.”
“My thanks to you, Andover,” said Alec, saved from the ticklish task of having to respond to Caro. “I’m grateful for your good sense. Gossip is always dangerous.” He glanced at Isobel, noting a sparkle in her eyes that had been missing for weeks. Perhaps the evening’s festivities had not been such a bad idea after all, despite his own errant stumbles. “And for keeping my sister company. I trust she didn’t chatter your ear off.”
“Alec!” she squeaked, looking mortified.
“Not at all, sir,” replied Andover quickly. “We had a very interesting discussion.”
“On Mozart’s sonatas,” interjected Isobel.
Alec repressed a grin. His sister was passionate about music and played the pianoforte and harpsichord with great skill. “You are being exceedingly kind to call such a talk interesting. Having been subjected to her lengthy lectures on the subject, I daresay you could use a glass of brandy.” He paused. “Or maybe several.”