Lessons in Indiscretion by Karen Erickson Page A

woman in a variety of ways. He was the catch of the season, had been for more than a few seasons, and could have his pick of the ladies. His absolute pick.
    Yet he was in front of her, reaching for her hand, a slight smile curving his delectable lips. She had no choice but to offer her hand in return, because she wasn’t rude. She would never turn him away.
    She didn’t want to turn him away. His asking her to dance made her curious. What were his intentions? Was he interested?
    She hoped so.
    He wore no gloves, such a faux pas, but he always did whatever he wanted. The moment their hands touched, a jolt shivered up her arm and settled low in her belly.
    Her eyes widened as he swept her into his arms and led her onto the dance floor. For such a large man, he moved effortlessly, guiding her with an ease born of years of practice and natural grace. With one hand clutching hers and the other settled at her waist, he immersed them into the crowd among the swirling dancers.
    His touch burned through the fabric of her gown, her stays and her shift as if they didn’t exist, and she shivered.
    “Cold?” He tipped his head toward her, his lips turned in the slightest smirk. He’d felt her tremble, and she didn’t want him to realize exactly how her body reacted to such a simple touch.
    “A little,” she lied blithely, returning his smile. After making the mistake of allowing their gazes to meet for a prolonged moment, she felt trapped. Ensnared. Stunned silly by the heat and hunger reflected there.
    As they passed the other dancers, their whispered words broke the spell, and she wished she hadn’t heard them. Most likely they were questioning why he would ask her to dance over someone more deserving.
    “I believe we’ve shocked people.” He sounded pleased with himself.
    “Is that why you asked me to dance? So you could cause a bit of scandal during an otherwise uninteresting evening?” Perhaps she’d been wrong about his intentions. Had he only wanted to use her to amuse himself? The thought hurt, and she hoped he would deny it.
    Bedingfield frowned. Even then he was the most handsome man in the room by far. “Of course not. Do you think so little of me, Lady Renwick?”
    She frowned as well, and her steps faltered. “There is a new Lady Renwick, you know.” She purposely ignored his question.
    “Yes, but you are still Lady Renwick, at least in my eyes.” His gaze sharpened as he scrutinized her. “Unless you are allowing me the privilege of calling you Julia.”
    The sound of her name dropping from his lips gave her far too much pleasure. “If I were to allow you to call me by my given name, then surely we should be on a more…intimate level with each other.”
    He lifted a dark brow, and her stomach fluttered. He was incredibly arrogant, which she found incredibly arousing. “Intimate level, hmm? Now that intrigues me.”
    “Does it, my lord?” He spun her in a quick circle, the move so sudden she grew dizzy, and she wondered if he’d done it on purpose.
    “If we’re moving our friendship to a more intimate level, as you called it, then the least you could do is call me Garrett.” He dipped his head close, his mouth hovering just above her ear. “Hardly anyone calls me by my first name anymore.”
    A quiver moved through her entire body at his husky voice, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. He lifted his head. His eyes were dark, his expression predatory, as if he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of the room.
    Triumph surged through her. She hadn’t been mistaken. The attraction between them wasn’t one-sided. He wanted her.
    But could she seduce the renowned seducer?
    She’d known Bedingfield since he was a young man, when he was just Garrett Walker, heir to his father’s title. The late earl and her husband had been friends, and their families had often entertained together. She remembered Garrett as a good-looking boy, smart and serious when needed, as well as