An Unexpected Pleasure (The Mad Morelands #4)(67)

“So now I shall be a wallflower?” Megan asked with mock indignation. In fact, she had little desire to get out on the dance floor, unsure if her adolescent practicing with Deirdre in their room at home would hold up to British Society’s standards.

“Credit British men with a little more perseverance,” he retorted. “They will wangle an introduction from my parents or sisters. I have no doubt that you will be bombarded with invitations to dance.” He paused, then added, “Which is precisely why I intend to take that first waltz you promised me before any of the others show up here.”

He extended his hand to her. Megan hesitated, then put her gloved hand in his. “All right. But I must warn you—American teachers are not well versed in such social arts as dancing.”

“Then it is fortunate that British peers are,” he responded, giving her fingers a little squeeze. “Just follow my lead and it won’t be so dreadful.”

He led her to the ballroom, where a lively dance was already in progress. “A quadrille,” he told her. “One of Rafe’s favorites. He says it reminds him of the Virginia Reel.”

Megan spotted Rafe and Kyria dancing down the line of couples, flushed and smiling, and she felt a little pang clutch at her heart. Love and happiness were evident on the couple’s faces, and Megan could not help but feel a longing for the same emotion. Her mind had always been on her career, not the dream of husband and family shared by most of her schoolmates. She had never regretted the direction in which her life had gone, but sometimes there were moments, like now, when she wondered if she had given up too much to become a reporter.

But then, she reminded herself, she had never met a man who made her feel the way Kyria seemed to feel. Unconsciously, she glanced up at Theo, standing beside her. An increasingly familiar warmth stirred in her loins.

The dance ended, and a moment later the musicians struck up the beginning strains of a Strauss waltz. At least it was familiar, Megan thought. Deirdre had played the tune many times on the family piano. Still, her stomach quivered a little—though she was not sure whether it was from dread or anticipation—as she put her hand in Theo’s and let him lead her onto the floor.

They faced each other, his hand on her waist, the other hand curved gently around hers. With a slight pressure, he swung her into the flow of the dancers. The little jitter of fear vanished. It was easy to dance in his arms. Her feet remembered the steps well enough, and his grip was firm, yet relaxed, guiding her effortlessly through the movements. She looked up into his face, letting the exhilarating music pour over her as they circled the room.

It was easy to dance with him, to let herself go and move with the music. To feel his arms about her, holding her, guiding her. To gaze into his eyes until she saw nothing, thought nothing, felt nothing but him. It was dizzying, exciting, terrifying, all at once.

It ended all too soon. They walked from the dance floor, Megan’s heart pounding, her face flushed. There was a giddiness inside her that made her want to laugh and whirl about. She smothered a smile at the thought of the reaction of the staid guests if she were to break out spinning like a top.

Theo offered her a cup of punch, and she accepted, trying her best to tamp down her eagerness. Slipping her hand through his arm, she walked with him out into the hall and down to the refreshment room. He brought her a cup of punch, his fingers grazing hers and sending a sizzle straight down to her abdomen.

Megan drew a shaky little breath and sipped at her drink. It was beyond foolish, she knew, that she should react this way. They had done nothing but dance; he had handed her a drink. Both were such ordinary things, and yet they sent her insides skittering around crazily.

Theo looked down into her eyes, and Megan swallowed, her heart pounding. He reached up and drew a finger down her cheek, smiling at her in a way that closed out the rest of the world.

“Who are you?” he murmured.

Megan gave a little laugh, hoping it sounded more natural than it felt. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. I—I am the twins’ teacher.”

“I think you are far more than that.” He sighed, shaking his head. “When I am not with you, I have so many questions, and I tell myself that I will get the truth from you yet. And then the next time you’re near, the questions just fly from my head, and all I can think about is the way you look, the scent that clings to your hair, the way your eyes change color in the sunlight….

He moved closer to her as he spoke, leaning down a little, creating an intimate space around them. Megan’s fingers trembled, and she closed them in her skirts to control the shakiness. She thought for one mad, breathless instant that Theo was going to kiss her right here, in this public place.

A woman’s brittle voice sailed across the room, shattering the moment. “Lord Raine! There you are! Whatever are you doing, shutting yourself away down here?”

Megan stepped back guiltily, and Theo cursed under his breath as he turned. Lady Scarle was moving toward them, a smile fixed on her face, though it did not quite reach her stormy eyes.

She wore a royal-blue satin dress that deepened the blue of her eyes, though it was ornamented with far too many ruffles, bows and bits of lace for Megan’s taste. Her waist was cinched into nothingness, and her full bosom swelled above her dress, seeming ready to pop from its bounds at any moment. A diamond-and-sapphire necklace was wrapped around her throat, and matching earrings hung from her ears. Megan noticed that the same jewels winked out from her intricately upswept hair.