Where Dreams Begin(44)

“No dancing master,” Zachary said gruffly, having taken an instant dislike to the man. He had watched the dance lessons with Elizabeth the previous morning and had strongly resisted Girouard's mistaken attempt to include him in the instructions.

Holly sighed as if her patience were being strained. “Your sister likes him well enough,” she pointed out. “Monsieur Girouard is a very talented dancing master.”

“He tried to hold my hand.”

“I assure you, it was with no other intention than to lead you through the steps of a quadrille.”

“I don't hold hands with other men,” Zachary said. “And that little frog-eater looked like he was going to enjoy it.”

Holly rolled her eyes and let the comment pass.

They stood alone in the sumptuously upholstered ballroom, the walls covered in pale green silk and acres of overwrought gilded carving. Rows of rich green malachite columns, fit for a Russian palace, filled the spaces between gold-framed mirrors that reached eighteen feet in height. It seemed remarkable that the ceiling could support the weight of the six massive chandeliers sparkling with carriage-loads of crystal drops. Since no music was necessary for Zachary to learn the basic patterns of various dances, the musicians' bower at the back of the room was empty.

Zachary saw his partner's reflection in many of the mirrors that surrounded them. Her gray gown was incongruous in such an ornate setting. What would Holly look like in a ball gown? He imagined her in some low-cut garment with bare shoulders, trimmed with the frothy stuff he had seen on womens' evening dresses lately: the pretty, round shapes of her br**sts rising from the bodice…the glitter of diamonds on her pale skin. Her dark brown hair upswept to reveal jeweled earbobs clasped to her little ears—

“Do you remember the rules of ballroom etiquette that we discussed yesterday?” he heard her ask, and he forced his attention to the business at hand.

“Once I've asked a young lady to dance,” he said in a singsong tone, “I should not leave her until I've returned her to the chaperone. After the dance is finished, I ask if she will take some refreshment. If she says yes, I find a seat for her in the refreshment room and provide everything she needs, and stay with her as long as she cares to sit there.” He paused and asked with a slight scowl, “What if she wants to sit and fill her face for an hour? Or even longer?”

“You will remain with her until she is satisfied,” Holly said. “And then you will return her to the chaperone and bow, and offer thanks for the pleasure of her company. Furthermore, you must dance with the plain girls as well as the beautiful ones, and never dance more than twice with one particular partner. And in the event of a supper dance, you must offer to escort the chaperone to the dining table, and be as agreeable and charming as possible.”

Zachary sighed heavily.

“Now, on to the opening march,” Holly said briskly. “When you lead the march at your own ball, you must keep the pace slow and dignified. Follow the direction of the walls, and execute the change steps at the corners.” She leaned a bit closer to him and said in a conspiratorial manner, “A march is really just a walk around the room for all the ladies to display their finery. You can't make a mistake, Mr. Bronson. Just lead the couples around the sides and back through the center of the ballroom. And try to look a bit arrogant. It should pose very little problem for you.”

Her gentle teasing caused a surge of pleasure inside him. The idea of performing the staid, pretentious march at a ball usually made Zachary jeer and laugh. But the notion of parading around the room to display a woman like Holly on his arm…well, that had some merit. It was a territorial statement that he rather liked.

“And you must never, never march with two ladies at once,” Holly admonished.

“Why not?”

“For one thing, the change steps at the corners would be impossible, and for another…” She stopped, seeming to forget what she had been about to say as their gazes met. Blinking slowly, as if she were distracted, she forced herself to continue. “It's an honor that a gentleman does to one particular lady.” She reached for his arm and took it lightly. “Let us proceed to the first corner.”

They walked with great dignity, while Zachary was absurdly conscious of the sound his feet made on the gleaming parqueted floor. Upon reaching the corner, they paused while Holly explained the change steps. “I will release your arm and take your hand, and you will guide me from your left side to your right…” She began to execute the movement as she spoke, and Zachary obliged her. Their hands touched, and the feel of her cool little fingers sliding against his palm caused Zachary to catch his breath.

Holly stopped in apparent confusion and snatched her hand back with a slight gasp. She must have felt it, too, the exciting leap of sensation that resulted from the touch of their hands. Zachary stood staring at her down-bent head, dying to clasp his palms over her sleek, dark hair and tilt her face upward. He would never forget how it had felt to kiss her, the way her lips had clung to his, the sweet interior of her mouth, the vulnerable sound of her breathing.

“We…” Holly said unsteadily, “we should be wearing gloves. Ladies and gentlemen always wear gloves when they dance.”

“Shall I send someone to fetch them?” Zachary was surprised by the raspiness of his own voice.

“No, I…I suppose that won't be necessary.” She took a deep breath, appearing to compose herself. “Always bring an extra pair of gloves to a ball,” she murmured. “A gentleman should never offer a soiled glove to a lady.”