Where Dreams Begin(4)

“You're not the lady I was expecting.” He paused and added with a touch of gruff amusement, fully cognizant of the fact that it was too late for apologies, “I am sorry.”

Holly strove to reply coolly, although there was a betraying tremor in her voice. “Quite all right. You merely assaulted the wrong woman. I'm certain the same mistake could have happened to any lurker in the shadows.”

She sensed that her response had surprised him, that he had expected her to erupt in a fit of hysterics. A soft catch of laughter escaped him. “Well. Maybe I'm not as sorry as I thought.”

As she saw his hand lift slowly, she thought he meant to take her in his arms again.

“Don't touch me,” she said, shrinking back until her shoulders were pressed flat against the wall. Instead, he braced his hand on the stone beside her head and leaned closer, until she felt imprisoned by the muscular cage of his body.

“Should we introduce ourselves?” he asked.

“Definitely not.”

“At least tell me this…are you taken?”

“Taken?” Holly repeated blankly, shrinking backward until her shoulder blades met the hard wall.

“Married,” he clarified. “Betrothed. Otherwise committed to someone.”

“Oh, I…yes. Yes, I am.” A widow she might be, but she was as married to George's memory as she had been to him during his life. At the thought of George, Holly wondered bleakly how her life had come to this, that her splendid, beloved husband should be gone and she was here in the shadows, talking with a stranger who had practically assaulted her.

“Forgive me,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “I had arranged to meet with someone else…a lady who is obviously not able to keep her promise. When I saw you coming through the doors, I mistook you for her.”

“I…I wanted to be alone somewhere while my carriage was brought 'round.”

“Leaving the ball early? I don't blame you. These affairs are damned dull.”

“They don't have to be,” she murmured, remembering the way she had once laughed and danced and flirted with George until the early hours of the morning. “It depends on one's choice of companionship. With the right partner, an evening like this could be…magical.”

The wistfulness must have been evident in her voice, for he reacted unexpectedly. She felt the heat of his fingertips brush her shoulder, throat, until he found the side of her face and curved his palm against her cheek. She should have jerked away from the touch, but she was shocked by the pleasure of his warm, cradling hand on her face.

“You're the sweetest thing I've ever touched,” came his voice from the darkness. “Tell me who you are. Tell me your name.”

Holly took a deep gulp of air and pushed away from the wall, but there was nowhere to go. His powerful masculine form was everywhere, surrounding her, and without intending to, she walked straight into his arms. “I must go,” she gasped. “My carriage is waiting.”

“Let it wait. Stay with me.” One hand clasped her waist, the other slid behind her back, and a shudder of unwilling excitement went through her. “Are you frightened?” he asked as he felt the involuntary tremor.

“N-no.” She should be protesting, fighting to break free of him, but there was an insidious delight in being held against his hard, sheltering body. She kept her hands between them, when all she wanted was to fold herself inside his embrace and lay her head on his broad chest. A trembling laugh escaped her. “This is madness. You must release me.”

“You can walk out of my arms anytime you want.”

But she still didn't move. They stood together, breathing, clasped in awareness and stirring passion while a few sweet strains of music drifted to them from the ballroom. The ball seemed another world away.

The stranger's hot breath fanned her ear and stirred the little wisps of hair around it. “Kiss me again.”

“How dare you suggest—”

“No one will know.”

“You don't understand,” she whispered shakily. “This isn't like me…. I don't do these things.”

“We're strangers in the darkness,” he whispered back. “We'll never be together like this again. No, don't pull away. Show me how an evening can be magical.” His lips brushed the rim of her ear, unexpectedly soft and entreating.

The situation was far beyond Holly's ordinary experience. She had never understood why women behaved recklessly in these matters, why they would take risks and break vows for the sake of fleeting physical pleasure…but now she knew. No one in her life had ever affected her like this. She felt empty and frustrated, she wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up in his embrace. It had been easy to be virtuous when she had always been sheltered from temptation. Now she truly understood the weakness of her own character. She tried to bring George's image to mind, but to her despair, she couldn't summon his face. There was only the star-filled night, and the gleam of moonlight in her dazed eyes, and the solid reality of a stranger's body.

Breathing hard, she turned her head, just a small movement, but it brought her mouth against the burning heat of his. Dear Lord, he knew how to kiss. He used his hand to urge her head to his shoulder, anchoring her firmly as his lips slanted over hers. The feel of his mouth was exquisite as he possessed her with slow, teasing kisses, using the tip of his tongue to entice her. She surged against him in an awkward movement, wobbling on her toes as she tried to press herself deeper into the hard masculine shelter of his body. He steadied her, one arm sliding around her back, the other locking around her hips. It had been so long since she had felt physical pleasure of any kind, much less this voluptuous abandonment.