Rebel Waltz by Kay Hooper

well that once the Hall was his, she would have to walk away from him. Her pride would allow nothing else.
    And she didn't believe that was what he wanted; she might not be able to trust in his love, but his desire for her was very real, and very strong. No, he wanted them to become lovers as badly as she did. What was it he'd said? That she would come to him?
    Banner tried to think it through, tried to figure out why he was waiting, what he was waitingfor, but she couldn't. She was too aware of his body and his touch and his desire, and too aware of her own shivering need.
    For the first time in her life, she deliberately and consciously pushed the Hall out of her mind.
    By the time the wagons had wound their way back to the house, the other occupants had sung half a dozen songs that neither Banner nor Rory heard, and midnight was an hour past. Most of the guests were staying overnight, and as they clambered down from the wagons it became apparent that few were ready to turn in yet; the pool still held a strong appeal.
    While the others brushed away clinging strands of hay and started back toward the pool, Banner silently and reluctantly left Rory's lap. She didn't speak until he'd jumped lightly to the ground and reached up to swing her down; then she spoke quickly and huskily, mistrusting her nerve.
    “Are you going to turn in, or—”
    His hands at her waist, Rory stared down ather for a long, silent moment. He seemed to catch his breath as he gazed on her upturned, moonlit face and wide, consciously inviting eyes, then a rough sigh escaped him.
    “No. No—I think I'll join the others at the pool. How about you?”
    She heard the reluctance in his hoarse voice, but that didn't soften the blow of rejection. Stepping back until he dropped his hands, she said in a carefully even tone, “I think I'll call it a night. See you in the morning.”
    “Good night, milady.”
    She turned away and headed quickly for the house, and if she had heard his soft and heartfelt “Damn!” behind her, she might have slept more easily. But she didn't hear, and she hardly slept at all.
    Banner skipped breakfast the next morning, although she did come downstairs in time to see off what looked like the last of the guests. Rory was there as well, cheerful as usual, but his facade dropped abruptly when he caught her hand and she tried to pull it away.
    “What's wrong?” he asked quietly as they stood in the open doorway and watched cars heading down the long driveway.
    “Nothing.” Since he hadn't released her hand, she could hardly turn and walk away, as she wanted to.
    “You didn't come down for breakfast.”
    “I slept in.”
    “Did you?” He turned her suddenly to face him. “There are shadows under your eyes, milady. You didn't sleep at all.”
    “Gloating?” she asked evenly.
    His free hand came up to cradle the side of her neck. “Is that what you think?” he asked seriously.
    Incurably honest, she gave her head a tiny shake. “No.”
    “Good,” he said flatly, “because sending you off to bed alone last night was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.”
    “Nobility,” she offered shakily, even while she marveled at the fact that neither of them seemed able to pretend with the other.
    He laughed on a sighing breath. “No. Hardly that. I want more than one night from you, Banner. More than one night with you.” A faint light of self- mockery showed in his eyes. “I swam in that damn pool all night; I haven't been to bed at all.”
    “It doesn't show,” she murmured, gazing up at him and seeing no signs of too many hours without sleep.
    Rory shrugged. “It doesn't with me. Some things don't. Maybe that's why a certain lady could… misunderstand.”
    “What else have I … misunderstood?” she wanted to know, her voice soft.
    “My priorities,” he said simply. “You come first with me, Banner. Don't ever lose sight of that.”
    Before she could respond, Conner had approached with his silent tread