And Then She Fell (The Cynster Sisters Duo 1)

“Ah—I think I’m getting the hang of this now. They’ll happily parade their charges before me in the park and at whatever events I attend, but they won’t see any pressing need to force their charges’ claims to my attention down my wolfish throat.”

“Precisely.” She paused, then allowed, “Actually, it doesn’t hurt at all that you are an acknowledged wolf. It makes them think twice before offering up any of the very young and truly innocent.”

James laughed—he couldn’t help it. “What a very nice way of putting me in my place—and ensuring I remain tame.”

“I wasn’t so much thinking in terms of ‘tame’—more of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

Before he could reply to that piece of impertinence, the strains of a waltz filled the air—and his response was there, ready-made, before him. He turned to her, bowed, and held out his hand. “I believe that’s our waltz.”

“What?” She looked stunned. “No . . . that is—” She dragged in a breath. “You should waltz with one of the possible candidates for your short list.”

He watched as she looked about, searching the throng almost desperately. “Henrietta—it’s just a waltz. And I’m tired of having to converse appropriately and otherwise assess my partners. Come and put me out of my misery, and let me enjoy one waltz for the evening.” He made the last words sound almost whiny, a plea for relief—all pretense, of course. The notion of this waltz—of waltzing with her—had been fermenting in his brain since he’d first set eyes on her as she’d descended the ballroom steps.

He’d promised himself this in payment for his earlier toeing of her line. He’d done as she’d asked, now it was her turn to play to his rules.

She glanced at him uncertainly, then her resistance fell. “Oh, very well.” She resettled her shawl, then reached out and set her gloved hand in his.

He closed his fingers about her slender digits and felt triumph surge inside. But it was such a small win—just a waltz, nothing more.

Holding her hand high, he led her onto the clearing dance floor, then turned and swept her into his arms, and into the swirling pleasures of the dance. Capturing her gaze, letting his own lock with the soft blue, he let his lips curve, appreciative and encouraging, sensed the lithe tension in her svelte form, and gave himself up to the heady delight—and drew her with him.

He was a past master at the art of circling a ton dance floor, of using the waltz to his own ends . . . but tonight, he discovered, the shoe was on the other foot, and the waltz used him. Worked on him, certainly, and on her, too; he couldn’t recall ever being so immersed in the moment, so caught in the effortless action, in the swooping glide, the swirling turns, the sheer power that flowed when he had her—Henrietta—in his arms.

It had never been like this before; no waltz had ever captured him before. His senses had coalesced and locked, fixed, so deeply engaged with her and the moment that there was nothing left of him, of his awareness, for anything else. The world fell away, and they were the only two people revolving down the floor, and he was lost, trapped, in her eyes.

Caught, ensnared, by the effortless way she matched him, light on her feet, instantly responsive to every subtle direction he gav

e. He hadn’t expected her to be . . . such a perfect match.

She, and the waltz, took his breath away.

He’d wanted a distraction from the other young ladies, a reward for his diligent application over the past hours, and she’d agreed and given him all he’d wished for; wholly focused on her, on the waltz, on the welling pleasure, he shut his mind to all else and enjoyed.

Henrietta couldn’t catch her breath, but not breathing didn’t seem to matter. She felt light as thistledown, floating and swooping in a deliciously delightful way—carried in his arms, swept along by his strength, cradled and protected and powerfully directed, yet free in a way she’d never felt before. As if her senses had expanded and broken their fetters and were no longer restricted to the mundane world.

The waltz was eye-opening on several fronts. She’d waltzed times without number, with gentlemen beyond count, but none before had held the key to this new and novel and wholly beguiling landscape. The sensations of his hand firmly clasping her fingers, of his other hand at her back, entirely correctly supporting her yet with his touch all but burning through the layers of fine silk, registered, impinged, yet they were only one set of waves amid a sea. The brush of his thigh between hers as they whisked through a tight turn, the sheer power of their movement up the floor, thrilled in ways she hadn’t before experienced.

And she was enthralled. This was waltzing at a different level, of a different degree.

Some part of her levelheaded mind wanted to observe and catalog each aspect, yet his eyes were on hers, and the tug of the soul that shone through the brown tempted and lured, and she dispensed with all anchors to reality and let herself follow him, let her senses soar.

Let the dance, and him, sweep her away.

Into uninhibited enjoyment.

When the music finally ended and they whirled to a halt, and, breathless, she had to step out of his arms and curtsy, all she felt was disappointment that the moment had ended.

That they were back in the real world, with its attendant demands.

“Thank you.” She could have waltzed with him for at least another hour; she smiled in honest and open appreciation. “That was indeed a pleasure.”

He was watching her, as if seeing her anew, but he inclined his head and smiled easily in reply. “It was.” He looked around, surveying the crowd about them. “Perhaps we could simply stroll for a while, without any defined agenda?”

She was ready enough to set aside looking for more young ladies, at least for the moment. “If you wish.”

He offered his arm. She hesitated for only an instant before accepting and placing her hand on his sleeve; she’d managed to survive a waltz, after all. And if her fingers tingled at the feel of the hard muscle beneath his sleeve, and her still giddy senses purred at the sensations engendered by him standing so close, crowded even closer by the press of bodies all around, she would, she decided, find some way to cope.

They strolled easily, joining this circle, then that, stopping to chat with acquaintances—some hers, many his, most known to them both. Neither of them was all that young and, socially, they moved in similar circles.