Love, Come to Me(21)

“Where you’re concerned, I tend to dare a great deal . . . as you might recall, Miss Caldwell.”

She couldn’t believe that he had the gall to remind her of the last time they had met, when his golden head had bent over hers and his mouth, to her trembling response, had been so hot and crushing. His teasing remark seemed to defile the memory of it. How could he make light of it, she thought with sudden anger, and all of her amusement fled as she looked away from him, her cheeks burning. “You mannerless . . . get away from me,” she muttered, and he laughed softly.

“What a quick temper you have. Is Daniel aware of it?”

“Yes . . . no . . . he—oh, leave me alone!”

“After I dance with you—or did I mistake those longing stares you kept sending me from the middle of the dance floor?”

“Leave, or I’m going to make a scene!”

“Go ahead. It’ll mean nothing to me, since my reputation’s already far gone . . . but yours . . . well, after your behavior tonight, it won’t take much more to finish yours off. Now set down your punch, Cinda, and take my arm.”

Reluctantly she took his arm, wishing she had it in her to call his bluff. But she did want to dance with him, and she wasn’t sure why—except that it felt good to know that she was doing something that Daniel would have forbidden. “Everyone’s looking,” she whispered, letting him lead her to the center of the waltzing couples, several of which moved to allow them plenty of room.

“Everyone’s been looking at you all night,” he said wryly. “Especially me.” His eyes slipped down to the low-cut bodice of her dress, touching on the generous swell of her br**sts, then moved back up to her face. Lucy felt a warm tingle in her midriff at the bold appreciation in his gaze. Though he was the same age as Daniel and the other men she had grown up with, he seemed to be so much older than they were, so thoroughly confident. In an odd way she trusted him, but at the same time he made her a little bit afraid. Heavens, she didn’t like being so unsure of a man!

They began to waltz, and Lucy’s thoughts were diverted from her worries as she relaxed and enjoyed the dance. His arms were around her again, and they were as hard and supportive as she remembered. Dancing with him was pure pleasure. The steps of their feet were wonderfully synchronized, his strong arm fit around her waist snugly, and he swept her around the floor with unfaltering authority. She knew exactly where he was going to lead her and where she was going to follow. Lucy felt as if she were flying, yet at the same time she felt vaguely dominated, and that wasn’t something that she liked at all.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded, aware that his turquoise eyes were locked on her face with unbearable intensity. He smiled and became the lazy scamp once more, a change that caused her to relax.

“Just thinking that Daniel Collier is a fool.”

“Unlike others,” Lucy reproved, gaining a measure of her self-confidence back, “he devotes most of his time to hard work and dedication to others—”

“Leaving you alone a good deal of the time . . . leaving you open to all sorts of demoralizing influences.”

“Like you?”

“Exactly like me.” Heath eyed her assessingly. “Now, judging from the way you played your cards tonight, he ought to give you a talking-to when he finds out about how you’ve been kicking up your heels. At least that’s what you’re hoping. But I’ll bet he doesn’t. No, he’ll fuss and frown for a few days while you apologize to him, and then he’ll finally relent, taking your little hand in his forgivingly—”

“What makes you think you know enough about me,” Lucy asked, stiff-backed with dignity, “or Daniel, to presume anything about what I want or what he wants, or what will happen between us, you overbearing, rude—”

“I’ll bet he doesn’t say a word to you,” Heath said matter-of-factly, “even though he should, and would if he was half the man he ought to be.”

“How can you say that to me? No gentleman would ever—”

“Ah . . . don’t be angry, Cinda,” he entreated. “It’s the way I was raised. I just don’t know any better.”

“Why did you call me that?”

“Cinda? Because no one else does.”

Lucy scowled at him, knowing that for the rest of the dance he was going to bend his efforts toward charming her into good humor again. And furthermore, that she probably wouldn’t be able to resist.

Contrary to Lucy’s expectations, Daniel’s reaction to the rumors about the dance was not anger but something far worse. He came to visit the next afternoon, his eyes full of bewilderment and hurt. As they sat in the parlor, their hands clasped tightly, Lucy was wracked with guilt. She warded off his every question with fervent reassurances.

“Does it make you unhappy to be betrothed to me?” Daniel asked quietly, his thumbs stroking over the backs of her hands. “Is there someone else you would rather—”

“Oh, no . . . no, Daniel,” Lucy said in a rush, her heart nearly breaking at the sight of the defeated slump of his shoulders. His manner was so calm and serious that her lighthearted rebellion of last night took on a new magnitude of importance. How wrong she had been to try to get back at him in such a way! She had not thought that it would hurt him so deeply. The more she thought about what she had done, the more childish her own actions seemed. In fact, she was becoming acutely embarrassed by the recollection of her shameless flirting and loud laughter. “You’re the only one I’ll ever want or love,” she said, holding onto his hands with a desperate grip. “I was just so disappointed that you weren’t there.”