often under duress and on very rare occasions.”
Rebecca smiled. “I have only ever danced with my father,” she said, her eyes brightening as though recalling a happy memory. “But I would like to dance with you, Gabriel.”
Her words caused a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach; the feeling flooded his body, relaxing his rigid shoulders. He forgot he wanted to throttle the dissolute rogue and kick him across the garden until his fancy truly was titillated.
“Then it will be my pleasure to dance with you, Miss Linwood.”
“Rebecca,” she whispered, and the corners of her mouth curled up into another sweet smile. “Call me Rebecca.”
He had no time to think, no time to prepare for how it would feel to hold her in his arms, as the music was in full stride, the floor littered with circling couples. With a firm grip, he drew her closer, felt a jolt of desire shoot through his body as he took her hand in his and led her out onto the floor.
That first dance, his for longer than he could remember, should have been awkward, their movements lumbered and untutored given their lack of experience. Yet their bodies were in perfect tune, gliding effortlessly about the floor. Indeed, he forgot he was in a crowded ballroom amongst the elite of Society. His only thoughts were of her.
Rebecca looked up at him, her soft bosom heaving with excitement, her moist lips slightly parted, her eyes glazed with a look of euphoria. Heaven help him. He could think of nothing other than her naked body writhing beneath him as she moaned his name in the wild throes of passion. His eager manhood stirred in response, and he knew that if he were to survive the next few minutes, he would have to find a way to distract his mind.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said hoping conversation would ease his predicament, but his choice of words did nothing to dampen his desire. “You should not have gone out onto the terrace alone,” he was quick to add.
He’d seen her from the other side of the ballroom, seen the rakish gentleman stalk after her like a wildcat on the prowl and the memory helped to cool his heated blood.
“I should not have agreed to come,” she said honestly. “Regardless of what George believes, I do not belong here with these people.”
No, Gabriel thought, she was far too good for them all.
“Neither do I,” he said, and he could still hear the low hum of desire evident in his voice. “I have always felt more comfortable with my books.”
Rebecca smiled. “I had it on good authority you were a recluse,” she said as her dress swished around his legs just to tease him. “Now, here you are at your second ball in the matter of a few days.”
He heard the question — w hy did you come? — buried implicitly within her words.
He could have said it had always been his intention to attend. Lord Chelton had been a friend to his father. Or said her information about him was incorrect. But he found he could not lie to her as this madness that had taken hold of him seemed determined to drag him through an emotional version of hell.
“I came here because I wanted to see you.” Instead of feeling awkward, it felt quite liberating to convey some sense of what plagued his thoughts. Although he chose not to add that jealousy had played its part, too. “I should not have left you alone with Lord Wellford. Despite the fact he’s your brother, I do not trust his intentions.”
There was an odd look on her face, one of pleasure mixed with intrigue. “You are right. He seems determined to see me wed and has introduced me to a whole host of bizarre characters.” She gave a sweet sigh. “He looks so much like my father I forget I hardly know him. Perhaps now you understand why it suits me to think of him as my father’s son.”
“Well, your father’s son is standing on the edge of the ballroom watching us dance. His glare of disapproval is unmistakable.”
Gabriel noticed her examine the crowd as he twirled
Rebecca smiled. “I have only ever danced with my father,” she said, her eyes brightening as though recalling a happy memory. “But I would like to dance with you, Gabriel.”
Her words caused a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach; the feeling flooded his body, relaxing his rigid shoulders. He forgot he wanted to throttle the dissolute rogue and kick him across the garden until his fancy truly was titillated.
“Then it will be my pleasure to dance with you, Miss Linwood.”
“Rebecca,” she whispered, and the corners of her mouth curled up into another sweet smile. “Call me Rebecca.”
He had no time to think, no time to prepare for how it would feel to hold her in his arms, as the music was in full stride, the floor littered with circling couples. With a firm grip, he drew her closer, felt a jolt of desire shoot through his body as he took her hand in his and led her out onto the floor.
That first dance, his for longer than he could remember, should have been awkward, their movements lumbered and untutored given their lack of experience. Yet their bodies were in perfect tune, gliding effortlessly about the floor. Indeed, he forgot he was in a crowded ballroom amongst the elite of Society. His only thoughts were of her.
Rebecca looked up at him, her soft bosom heaving with excitement, her moist lips slightly parted, her eyes glazed with a look of euphoria. Heaven help him. He could think of nothing other than her naked body writhing beneath him as she moaned his name in the wild throes of passion. His eager manhood stirred in response, and he knew that if he were to survive the next few minutes, he would have to find a way to distract his mind.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said hoping conversation would ease his predicament, but his choice of words did nothing to dampen his desire. “You should not have gone out onto the terrace alone,” he was quick to add.
He’d seen her from the other side of the ballroom, seen the rakish gentleman stalk after her like a wildcat on the prowl and the memory helped to cool his heated blood.
“I should not have agreed to come,” she said honestly. “Regardless of what George believes, I do not belong here with these people.”
No, Gabriel thought, she was far too good for them all.
“Neither do I,” he said, and he could still hear the low hum of desire evident in his voice. “I have always felt more comfortable with my books.”
Rebecca smiled. “I had it on good authority you were a recluse,” she said as her dress swished around his legs just to tease him. “Now, here you are at your second ball in the matter of a few days.”
He heard the question — w hy did you come? — buried implicitly within her words.
He could have said it had always been his intention to attend. Lord Chelton had been a friend to his father. Or said her information about him was incorrect. But he found he could not lie to her as this madness that had taken hold of him seemed determined to drag him through an emotional version of hell.
“I came here because I wanted to see you.” Instead of feeling awkward, it felt quite liberating to convey some sense of what plagued his thoughts. Although he chose not to add that jealousy had played its part, too. “I should not have left you alone with Lord Wellford. Despite the fact he’s your brother, I do not trust his intentions.”
There was an odd look on her face, one of pleasure mixed with intrigue. “You are right. He seems determined to see me wed and has introduced me to a whole host of bizarre characters.” She gave a sweet sigh. “He looks so much like my father I forget I hardly know him. Perhaps now you understand why it suits me to think of him as my father’s son.”
“Well, your father’s son is standing on the edge of the ballroom watching us dance. His glare of disapproval is unmistakable.”
Gabriel noticed her examine the crowd as he twirled
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