A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(90)

“Might I have this dance?” he asked. So suavely. The velvet darkness of his voice sent a thrill coursing all the way to her toes.

“I suppose you may.”

What was this game they were playing? Were they supposed to pretend they didn’t know one another? All she wanted to do was fly into his arms.

But she put her hand in his. As he led her to the dance floor, her heart fluttered.

They faced one another, and he fit his hand between her shoulder blades. The expression on his face was so stern.

“You look magnificent,” she whispered. “So handsome.”

She waited for him to compliment her gown or her hair, but she waited in vain. The expression on his face was both intent and somehow uncertain. What did it mean?

“I’ve missed you so much.”

He swung her into the waltz. They moved through several bars of the dance, haltingly. He never said a word.

“Samuel, are you . . . Have you changed your mind?”

He blinked. “About what?”

“About me.”

He frowned at her, as if chiding her for the question. “No.”

She waited for further assurances. He didn’t give them. Her heart began to pound. She didn’t know what it was, but something was wrong.

“If you don’t want to be here,” she said, “I don’t want to force you.”

He made no reply. Except to curtly sigh with impatience and stare at the orchestra.

“Won’t you speak to me? I’ve been waiting for you all week. Hoping all night. I couldn’t believe you would leave me feeling so abandoned, and now you’re finally here—”

“I’ve been here for hours.”

“Then why did you take so long to come find me? Were you ashamed? Uncertain?” Her voice broke. “At least look at me.”

He came to a halt. “Blast. I can’t do this.” He looked about the room, his eyes searching out every possible exit. “We need to talk somewhere, alone.”

Kate struggled to keep her worst fears tightly leashed, but they had tenacity. And sharp teeth.

Perhaps her new identity as a lady was too much for him. Maybe he’d decided he couldn’t be part of her life.

“This way,” he said.

She followed him out the nearest set of doors and down a long paneled corridor, until they passed into Sir Lewis’s famed medieval hall, where the aging antiquarian’s collection of arms and armor was most impressively displayed.

“It’s quiet here,” he said. “And safe.”

Kate supposed it was. On either side of the long, narrow hall a half-dozen suits of ancient armor stood sentry. Like an escort of Arthurian knights, solemnly standing guard on either side of a plush, rose-red carpet.

A pair of wall sconces at either end provided the hall’s only illumination. Candlelight quietly gleamed off the polished suits of centuries-old armor, limning the edges of their swords and the points of their staves.

The setting was either wildly romantic or vaguely threatening.

Samuel motioned for her to sit on a bench nestled into an alcove. The cool stone beneath her thighs made her shiver.

He sat next to her. “Katie, you have to let me explain.”

“Please do. If you’ve been here at Summerfield for hours, why didn’t you come to me at once? Why did you make me wait all night?”

“You want the truth?”

“Always.”

“Because I can’t dance. I only had time to learn the waltz. I couldn’t come claim you for the gavotte or the sarabande. I had to stand in the library like a damned fool and wait for the orchestra to play the one dance I knew.”

Her heart twisted in her chest. “Oh.”

“And I couldn’t even manage it. For Christ’s sake, it shouldn’t be more difficult than marching, should it? Payne told me not to stare at my feet, but . . .”

“Oh, Samuel.”

“But you looked so lovely. Every thought went right out of my head.”

Now everything made sense. This explained his stern, uncertain expression and his refusal to speak or look at her. He’d been trying so hard to keep step with the dance, he hadn’t been able to spare concentration for niceties.

And did he say Lord Payne had advised him? Samuel despised Lord Payne. But he’d sought the man’s help. He’d asked for dancing lessons.

Heavens. He could have spelled out his love for her in fifty-foot letters, right on the hillside beside the Long Man of Wilmington, and it wouldn’t have been any more obvious.

Those clear blue eyes sought hers, shining true through the dark. “Look at me. This is who you’ll be stuck with, Katie. A clumsy oaf who can’t count to three in his head and tell you you’re beautiful at the same time. What the hell are you doing with me?”

“I’m in love with you, you foolish man. Falling deeper every moment.” She let her brow fall to his chest and listened sharp for the deep, steady beat of his heart. “I know you love me. You don’t have to say it. I can feel it. I know.”

He drew a ragged breath. “Katie, you know the life I’ve led. It’s been brutish and bloody and cruel, and I don’t know that I can ever give you the kind of tenderness you deserve. You tell me I love you . . . but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t understand what the word even meant, or how a man like me could ever feel such a thing.”