The Dancing
Master
By Paris
Alexander
Susanna Marriott closed her eyes and tried to feel the music with her feet, as her
dancing master had instructed. No, it
was even worse when she couldn't see where she was
going. Timidly, she tried a few more
steps. Now her feet were
completely tangled up. She
stopped dead in the middle of the floor, letting the music swirl around her in
a discordant wail .
Her partner heaved a martyred sigh and waved
away the governess who was sitting at the piano. "Take a break, Favers . We'll call you when we need you again."
The governess rose from the piano stool with a
look of relief, curtsied, and left the room muttering about a nice hot cup of
tea.
Her partner's attention focused back on
her. "Miss Marriott. You are not concentrating."
"I can't do it. I just can't." She spoke to a button on his waistcoat, not
daring to lift her eyes any higher to see the disappointment written in his
face. She hated for
him to think she was not trying, but even more than that, she hated for
him to think she was clumsy or gauche. His good opinion meant so much to her.
"You know I have promised your father that
I would have you ready to make your come out in just a few short weeks." His voice displayed his irritation only too clearly.
Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked hard
to stop them from falling. That was part
of the problem. She didn't want to come out in society and have to spend her days making interminable
morning calls and dancing with dull old men at parties just because they asked
her to.
She blamed her current dancing master for her
lack of enthusiasm for dancing with other men. Nigel Petherick was everything a woman could
want in a dance partner: he was handsome, kind, wealthy and he even held a
minor title. Not that she cared a jot for
his wealth or his title. She was most
desperately in love with him, and had been ever since she was five years old.
What was the use of a come-out when she didn't want to marry anyone but Nigel? She wouldn't marry anyone but him. No one else made her breath come short when
she caught sight of him. No one else
could make her feel hot all over just by looking at her.
She thought of no one else in the dark of the
night, when she was alone in her bed and no one could see just where her hands
had strayed. She thought of him when she
panted in need, secretly touching herself and pretending it was him . She wanted him
hands on her body, his mouth kissing hers, until he had taught her all the
secrets she was longing to learn.
Why should she care about her come out when she
had a man to catch? A
man who seemed quite oblivious to all her attempts to catch him. It was enough to make her stamp her feet with
frustration. No wonder she was having
trouble dancing when her thoughts were so disordered.
"Teach me to waltz, then," she begged
him. At least when she was waltzing with
him, he held her in his arms. She would
endure anything for the sake of his touch. It made her feel weak at the knees and all trembly inside.
"You won't need to waltz. You're a debutante. It's far too
scandalous. Favers would pitch a fit if she knew."
"Miss Favers is
taking a break. She need never
know. Please?" She gave him her most dazzling smile, the one
she had practiced in the mirror for weeks. She moved closer to him until the tip of her
breast just brushed his arm. Her nipple
instantly contracted to a hard peak and she had to fight not to gasp aloud at
the jolt of desire that went coursing through her body. "I promise I will concentrate as hard as
I can and not tread on your toes."
"Why do I always let you get your own
way?" he muttered to himself. "All right, let's waltz."
Nigel took Miss Marriott in his arms for a
waltz, gritting his teeth with the effort of keeping her the requisite six
inches away from him.
The favor her father had
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