Passionate by Anthea Lawson Page B

his arms she could feel it slipping away. What was it that made her susceptible to the charms of this man when so many others had left her cold?
    James swept her around the room in such perfect time to the music that it seemed they were lifted, propelled not by muscle and bone, but by a swell of spirit that carried them. All around them couples swirled in a riot of color, yet the two of them moved together in the heart of the music, alone in the pure, sweet center of the waltz.
    She relaxed into the movements—it seemed her heart offered no choice. Hand resting on his shoulder, she felt the play of muscles tensing and releasing beneath his evening coat. His arm circled her, guiding her through another turn. She was floating, and when his thigh brushed hers in passing, she felt the impression burning against the silk, against her skin, for long moments after.
    This would never do.
    Despite her best efforts, being close to James made her want things that were beyond inadvisable. The thought that had been nipping at her since their kiss on the terrace returned.
    She should stay behind when the expedition left.
    Acknowledging it made her heart twist, but she had to face facts—in particular, the tall, masculine one that was swooping her around the room. What else could she do? Find a way to get rid of James? Not with her uncle set on finding the flower. She had not seen him so excited in years—and that was saying a great deal.
    There would be other expeditions, perhaps, if her future husband permitted. At the very least she would still have her painting, a family, freedom from her mother’s matchmaking. She had bargained for the expedition, but who could have anticipated Mr. Huntington?
    “Tell me, Miss Strathmore, do you regret not accompanying your uncle to Tunisia?”
    Lily blinked up at him. Goodness, could he read her thoughts? “Yes, I’m disappointed, but I see no other option under the circumstances.”
    “It would be difficult to deny one’s parents.” He spoke as if daring her to correct him.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Your father is sending a carriage for you tomorrow, is he not? I was there when you received the letter.”
    “And you thought I was returning home because my uncle was going abroad?”
    “I thought your family was sending for you, that is all.”
    Lily looked away. Could it be that he didn’t realize she had been planning to go on the expedition? That might explain his kisses. Well, perhaps it was better this way. She wouldn’t have to explain why she had changed her mind, at least not to him.
    Wistfulness stole over her as they twirled and turned once more about the floor. This would be the last time. James would go, as he must, and when he returned she would be wed.
    The music was slowing, bringing them back to a room filled with voices and laughter. Their interlude was now truly over. It would be best if she remained in England. Swallowing past the tightness in her throat, she swept James a deep curtsy, silk skirts hushing along the floor.
    He bowed in return. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Strathmore. I only wish it could have continued a little longer.”
     
    James woke early to a soft, gray drizzle. The new day barely brightened the sky and the sun felt immeasurably far away. Thoughts of Lily filled his mind—the way her lovely, mysterious eyes sparkled up at him in unguarded moments, how she felt in his arms melting into his kiss, her passion, her determined self-possession.
    He sat up restlessly, pushing free of the sheets. The shock of cool air against his bare chest brought him fully awake.
    Lily was leaving today.
    He pulled on his clothes and left the room. It was too early for the family to be stirring, especially after the late hours they had kept last night, but the house was awake. He caught the distant sound of rattling dishes and low-voiced conversation as the servants went about their early-morning duties. He padded quietly down the hall and descended the empty