The Untamed Earl by Valerie Bowman Page B

tip of one slipper against the parquet floor. “I’m usually quite proficient at dancing. I don’t know why I’m so clumsy today.” Yes, I do. I’m clumsy because you’re gorgeous and I’m distracted by the thought of sticking my nose in your cravat and sniffing you.
    Owen chuckled. “You’re still nervous, if I don’t miss my guess.”
    â€œI suppose I am. A bit.” She dropped her gaze to her slippers. Nervous because you’re so dastardly handsome, which is hardly my fault.
    He contemplated her for a moment. “You say your sister is fond of alcohol. How do you feel about the stuff? Besides port, I mean. Say, champagne?”
    â€œI adore it!” She clapped her hand over her mouth. That had been far too emphatic and completely unladylike. Another reason her mother informed her regularly that she would be hard-pressed to find a decent suitor. “A true lady drinks only one glass, Alexandra,” her mother liked to say. Wouldn’t her mother have a fit if she knew Alex liked to sneak into the study and tipple the port?
    Instead of giving her a reproachful look or arching a brow, Owen threw back his head and laughed. “I’m glad to hear it. You’re a lady after my own heart. Wait here.” He jogged across the floor and was gone out the door in an instant.
    Alex waited with bated breath. She repeated “A lady after my own heart” in a rushed whisper—while trying to keep from squealing—so many times that the words began to lose their meaning and became a happy jumbled ball in her mouth.
    When Owen returned minutes later, he was holding two champagne flutes. He crossed back over the wide parquet floor and handed one to Alex with both a flourish and a gallant bow. “My lady,” he said. “It’s not port, but I’ve always found that a bit of alcohol loosens the inhibitions, makes for less nervousness in dancing … and other things.”
    Alex felt her cheeks heat again. That sounded positively wicked. She liked it. A lot. If she were going to continue spending any amount of time in Owen’s company, she really must learn to stop blushing. Why, her face might remain a permanent shade of pink, and then she’d look like Lavinia’s bedchamber. An unhappy comparison to be sure. Alex readily brought the glass Owen had handed her to her lips and downed half of it while Owen watched with eyes both wide and approving.
    â€œThat’s the spirit,” he said with a laugh. He took a healthy sip from his own flute before plucking the glass from Alex’s fingers and setting both on the nearby table. “Now, how do you feel?”
    â€œFine. No different, I—”
    But she did feel different. The bubbly warmth of the champagne was already making its delicious fuzzy way to her belly … and her head. “Oh, I … I feel quite good.”
    â€œExcellent,” he replied with his most appealing grin, his dimple making a welcome appearance in his cheek. “Care to try again?” He held out his hands and she stepped into the circle of his arms.
    â€œYes, please,” she said with a vigorous nod.
    He spun her around and around, humming again, and Alex’s head felt positively light. Light and delightful. She slowly blinked. Oh, this was quite fun. Dancing around a deserted ballroom with the man of her dreams, an extremely pleasant way to spend the afternoon. Much better than paying calls to Mama’s friends, practicing embroidery for the thousandth time, or hoping that Lavinia’s temper stayed in check so that she might take a nap without shrill screeches waking her.
    â€œDoes Lavinia like to dance?” Owen asked as they spun around the room.
    Oh, why did he have to go and ruin the moment by mentioning Lavinia? I love to dance. “Yes, she enjoys it immensely.” When it’s over. “You must be certain to ask her … often,”