What was he saying? Did he not want her? Did he not feel the same urgent need clawing in his belly? Would he ever learn to love her again, love her enough to make her his wife?
An awkward silence ensued.
The nature of their relationship was complex. Once, they had loved each other deeply. It had been a pure love. Sweet. Hardly innocent. She had given herself to him on the night before they had eloped. The moment of their joining had roused feelings of utter bliss. Now, despite believing her heart was but a pit of cold, charred embers, the fiery flickers of desire sparked and burned anew.
Perhaps they could fall in love again. All she could do was hope.
“Well, we will ignore the gossips,” she said feeling a renewed sense of determination to win his heart. “After a wretched few months, we deserve some enjoyment.”
A smile touched the corners of his mouth, and his brilliant blue eyes glistened. “The Holbrooks are hosting a ball tomorrow evening. It is said to be an event to surpass all others. I’m told everyone will be there. It will be the perfect opportunity for me to speak to Henry Fernall.”
If it was to be such an elaborate soiree why had she not heard of it? “What deems it to be so special? Will there be acrobats and jugglers?”
He shook his head. “There is to be a card game. The stakes will be high. The night will end in rejoicing for some, disaster for others. Whilst the matrons would ordinary disapprove, people will speak of the winners and losers for years to come.”
“And no one would want to admit they were not there to witness such a momentous event.”
“Precisely. In light of what tragedies will come to pass, I doubt many will take notice of us dancing together.”
Her heart fluttered up to her throat. He intended to take her in his arms then. “I cannot recall the last time I took to the floor. There is every chance I will step on your toes.”
“Then I shall just have to hold you a little tighter than would be appropriate.”
“And how tight would that be?” Carried along on a buoyant wave of euphoria, she found it impossible not to continue their amorous banter.
He leant forward and placed his cup on the tray. “Perhaps I should show you. It would not do for you to gasp in shock when we are trying to remain inconspicuous.” He stood and held out his hand.
She glanced at it for a moment, noted that the skin was not as soft and smooth as she remembered. His work in France must have required an element of physical strength. An image of his muscular torso flashed into her mind. She did not need to glance in the mirror to know a blush touched her cheeks.
“I presume you mean to lead me in a waltz,” she said as she slid her hand slowly into his. A soft gasp breezed from her lips. The sudden tingling in her palm and the rush of hot blood racing up her arm caught her off guard.
“You see,” he said with a satisfied smile as he led her to a spot where there was more space. “Such a pleasurable sound is sure to make people stare.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, made no attempt to hold a perfect line as he pulled her close.
“I think people would gape if we stood this close.” His coat skimmed her dress. The taut muscles in his legs brushed against her thighs. As he hummed a triple-beat rhythm, they swayed back and forth, round and round. “It feels positively indecent.” The sudden rush of excitement made her giddy.
“Am I to assume from your playful tone that you approve of my attempt at indecency?” The undeniable sensuality in his words held her captive.
“Can you not hear my approval when I catch my breath?” She could feel all control slipping. She relished being so intimate with him. “Can you not see it reflected in my eyes?”
He stared into her eyes as they moved together. In his, she saw a look of longing, a smoldering passion that roused an ache deep in her core.
“Do you want me to tell you what I see in your eyes,” he said in a husky tone.
Her broad smile conveyed the happiness she felt inside. “Please do.”
“I see the young woman I once knew. I see the same vibrant vivacity that always held me spellbound. I see the woman I am yearning to know again, a woman whose potent allure draws me, a woman I cannot live without.”
Isabella choked back a sob. She never thought to hear such beautiful words from him again. She never thought she would ever feel so adored. “Make me yours, Tristan.” The words tumbled from her mouth without thought or censure.
Make me feel clean; make me feel whole.
But she did not give him a chance to respond. Giving in to the craving that clawed away inside, she pressed her lips to his as though she would die without his touch.
Chapter 14
The kiss felt different from the one they had shared at Highley Grange. There was something raw, something possessive about the way she claimed his mouth.
By God, he was not complaining.