Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(44)

“Dancing,” she said, lighting up with surprise. “They’re dancing.” She looked to him, all but leaping from her seat. “Let’s go.”

Once again, she fled before he could argue against the wisdom of such an activity. Swearing to himself, Julian threw a few coins on the table and gave chase. He followed as she dashed into the street and hurried on to the next shopfront. He caught her by the waist.

“Lily, no. We’re not dancing here.”

“Can’t you see?” she said brightly, staring past him into the tavern. “It’s the same country dance. The one you tried to teach me earlier.”

Julian followed her gaze. Inside, a dozen couples lined the narrow floor, stomping and twirling and clapping as they danced a lively pattern. It was indeed the same country dance they’d tried—and failed—to work through in the drawing room.

“I can feel it, Julian.” She placed her hand to the windowpane, which shivered in time to the beat. “The rhythm’s bouncing all through my bones. You have to let me try.”

“This is no place for a lady.”

“No one knows I’m a lady.”

She grasped his hand and tugged, catching him off-balance. His boot skidded on the damp cobblestone of the lane, and he stumbled to regain his footing without losing her hand. By the time Julian stood solidly upright again, they were inside. Dancing.

And Lily danced beautifully. Just as he’d predicted during their practice session, she had a much easier time following the steps with ladies lined up beside her. They joined the dance at the end of the line, and Lily threw back the hood of her cloak. She watched the other dancers carefully, taking her cues from them and copying their movements. Which allowed Julian to stare openly at her. He loved watching her unabashed enjoyment, almost as much as he admired the fearless spirit with which she embraced the challenge. When she made the inevitable misstep, she made a breathless, laughing apology to the green-clad man at her corner—and Julian could tell, that green-clad man would be delighted for Lily to tromp on his boots all night. In fact, he could sense every man in the room strategizing how to engage her for the next dance.

But when the music stopped, Lily gave them no opportunity. She flew to Julian’s side, as if she belonged to him. Meaningless as the gesture was, it swelled him with triumphant pride.

She pressed against him, panting for breath. “There now. Did I do well?”

“You were magnificent.”

A look of satisfaction graced her face. A bright flush painted her cheeks and her brow glistened with perspiration. “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.”

“Neither can I.” And what a surprise that was. He’d promised Holling that Lily would enjoy tonight, but what Julian hadn’t realized was how much he would enjoy it, too. While they were dancing, he’d felt almost … carefree. He couldn’t recall that word describing his emotional state, ever.

And God, she was so beautiful. He wanted to touch her so damn badly. He compromised by reaching up to tease an errant curl. The ringlet gave a voluptuous, undulating bounce. Her gaze softened, and her mouth … her mouth was the shape of a kiss. Not a chaste pucker, but a lush, pouting kiss a man could sink into for days.

The moment slowed. Stilled.

Shattered.

A voice behind him sent chills down his spine, freezing him where he stood.

“Mr. Bell?” the unseen someone called, from a distance of mere paces away. “Mr. Bell, is that you?”

Bloody hell.

The instinct of self-preservation was a powerful force. Julian didn’t stop to wonder which of his employees or business associates had recognized him. He didn’t ponder the implications of his two lives colliding in this crowded tavern, or even pause to think of some witty, deflective remark that might have fixed everything.

He didn’t think at all. He acted.

“Let’s get out of here.” He slid an arm around Lily’s waist, whirled her around, and pulled her straight into the thickest knot of dancers, weaving through the crowd.

“Mr. Bell!” the voice called again, closer this time. “Mr. Bell, it’s me!”

Deuce it all. It was Thatcher, his secretary at Aegis Investments. He would know that voice anywhere, and of course the man would recognize him in any crowd. Here Julian had been so concerned about Lily being recognized, he hadn’t thought to conceal himself. So bloody stupid. He briefly cursed himself for paying his employees such generous wages that they had coin to toss away on ale and dancing. Thatcher would be on starvation pay, from this day on.

A hand touched his shoulder.

Julian swiveled his head.

Thatcher grinned. “Mr. Bell, it is you. We’ve a table just there. Come join us, if you will. Can I buy you and your lady a—”

Julian gritted his teeth and shook his arm free. “Thatcher, damn you. Not now.”

Then he pressed ahead in the opposite direction. Lily hadn’t heard Thatcher, she hadn’t heard him. She knew nothing, and he was determined to keep it so.

“This way,” he said, tugging her to the back of the room and through a narrow corridor. They passed by a small, crowded kitchen and through a storeroom, where Julian located a back exit through a narrow door.

They emerged into the alleyway. It was a step down to the pavement, and Lily stumbled a bit as he hurried her into the street. Julian tightened his arms about her delicate form, and together they reeled to a stop just before colliding with a brick wall.