Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(36)

She must be a servant, he thought, noting that her gown was old, and her hair was braided loosely down her back. Perhaps she was a housemaid indulging in a stolen glass of wine.

The woman swirled back and forth like some misguided Cinderella whose ball gown had vanished before she had even reached the party. She made Gideon smile. Temporarily forgetting his desire for another drink, Gideon drew closer, while the gurgle of the fountain obscured the sound of his footsteps.

In the midst of a slow twirl, the woman saw him and froze.

Gideon stood before her with his customary elegant slouch, dipping his head and regarding her with a teasing gaze.

Recovering quickly, the woman stared back at him. A rueful smile curved her lips, and her eyes sparkled in the soft glow of torchlight. Despite her lack of classic beauty, there was something irresistible about her…a kind of vibrant feminine cheerfulness that he had never encountered before.

“Well,” she said, “this is quite mortifying, and if you have any mercy, you will forget what you have just seen.”

“I have a memory like an elephant’s,” he told her with feigned regret.

“How disagreeable of you,” she said, and laughed freely.

Gideon was instantly captivated. A hundred questions crowded in his mind. He wanted to know who she was, why she was there, if she liked sugar in her tea, had she climbed trees as a girl, and what her first kiss had been like…

The flood of curiosity puzzled him. He usually managed to avoid caring about anyone long enough to ask questions about him. Not quite trusting himself to speak, Gideon approached her cautiously. She stiffened slightly, as if she was unused to proximity with a stranger. As he drew closer, he saw that her features were even and her nose was a little too long, and her mouth was soft and sweetly shaped. Her eyes were some light color…green, perhaps…shining eyes that contained unexpected depths.

“Waltzing is somewhat easier with a partner,” he commented. “Would you care to try it?”

The woman stared at him as if she had suddenly found herself in a strange land with a friendly foreigner. Music from the ballroom drifted through the air in a heady current. After a long moment, she shook her head with an apologetic smile, searching for an excuse to refuse him. “My wine isn’t finished.”

Slowly Gideon reached for the nearly empty glass in her hand. She surrendered it without a word, her gaze remaining locked with his. Raising the glass to his lips, Gideon downed the contents in one expert swallow, then set the fragile vessel on the edge of the fountain.

She laughed breathlessly and shook her finger at him in mock reproof.

As he stared at her, Gideon’s chest felt very hot, the way it had once when he’d had croup and his nurse had made him breathe the reviving steam from a boiling pot of herbs. He remembered the relief of being able to breathe after hours of near-suffocation, the greedy movement of his lungs as they drew in the hot, precious air. Oddly, this felt rather like that…a sensation of relief, though from what he wasn’t quite certain.

He offered her a bare hand, having removed his gloves and placed them in his pocket as soon as he had entered the garden. Turning his palm up, he silently willed her to take it.

Apparently the decision was not an easy one. She looked away from him, her expression suddenly contemplative, the edges of her teeth catching at the plush curve of her lower lip. Just as Gideon thought she was going to refuse him, she reached out impulsively, her warm fingers catching at his. He held her hand as if he cradled a fragile bird in his palm, and drew her close enough that he could smell the hint of rose water in her hair. Her body was slim, sweetly curved, her uncorseted waist soft beneath his fingers. Despite the undeniable romance of the moment, Gideon felt a most un romantic stirring of lust as his body reacted with typical male awareness to the nearness of a desirable female. He eased his partner into a slow waltz, guiding her expertly across the uneven flagstones.

“I’ve seen fairies dancing on the lawn before,” he said, “when I got deep enough in a bottle of brandy. But I’ve never actually danced with one before.” He held her more tightly as she tried to alter their direction. “No, let me lead.”

“We were too close to the edge of the pavement,” she protested, laughing as he compelled her back into his rhythm.

“We were not.”

“Bossy American,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him. “I’m sure I shouldn’t dance with a man who admits to seeing fairies. And no doubt your wife would have a thing or two to say about this.”

“I have no wife.”

“Yes, you do.” She gave him a chiding smile, as if he were a schoolboy who had just been caught in a lie.

“Why are you so certain of that?”

“Because you’re one of the Americans, and they’re all married, except for Mr. McKenna. And you are not Mr. McKenna.”

“There’s one other unmarried American in the group,” Gideon commented lazily, releasing her waist and turning her with one hand. At the completion of the turn, he caught her back against him and smiled down at her.

“Yes,” she replied, “but that would be…”

“Mr. Shaw,” Gideon said helpfully, as her voice trailed into silence.

“Oh…” She looked up at him with wide eyes. Were he not holding her so securely, she would have stumbled. “I’m supposed to stay away from you.”