Page 18 of Twice Upon a Midnight

“You mean…” She swallowed. Hard. “You’d tell me how much you want to kiss me again?”

“No.”

Disappointment panged inside her chest. “No?”

He looked down at her and held her captive beneath his gaze as he admitted, “I wouldn’t stop with only a kiss.”

Her skin tingled, and a strange longing began to ache between her thighs. She dared to whisper, “What else would you do?”

His lips curled devilishly. “Oh, I would start with a kiss, certainly, as all the truly good love poems do. But it wouldn’t be your lips where the kissing stopped.”

He expertly led her through the remaining steps of the waltz, and she was more grateful than she would ever admit aloud that he was such a good partner; at that moment, her knees were so weak and her legs shaking so much she wondered how she managed not to melt to the floor in a puddle. Only his strong arms kept her upright.

“I would trail my mouth down your body and worship every inch of you until you lay boneless on the ground with me.” He lowered his mouth to her ear, and every word teased warmly over her cheek. “Then I would slowly peel away each layer of clothing until your beautiful body was revealed to the night and to my eyes.”

Ella couldn’t speak. She’d fallen under the spell of his words and the strength of his muscular body moving so perfectly with hers. Anyone who might glance their way would assume they were doing nothing more than holding polite conversation about the weather or current fashions, as was every other couple on the dance floor around them.

But the scandalous descriptions he shared were hers alone, and the ache inside her grew more intense until she trembled.

“I would make love to you in the moonlight,” Spenser murmured, daring to look boldly into her eyes as the music ended and the other couples slowed to a stop around them. “Your softness and spicy-sweetness would fill my senses until the rest of the world faded away, until there was only you.”

He stepped away to end their waltz, and Ella bit back a despondent cry at the loss of him. She wanted to throw herself back into his arms and beg him to sweep her off her feet, to carry her off into the night, and to do exactly as he’d described. And more. Because she wanted his poet’s heart for her own, for the rest of her life.

She trembled as she went through the motion of dipping into a curtsey to acknowledge his bow. She knew he could feel her fingers shaking when he placed her hand on his arm and guided her off the dance floor. Then he led her in a slow circle around the room, taking the long way back to her group.

She stopped in front of the open set of French doors leading out into the garden and turned to face him. The fire in his eyes had grown so heated as to twine a low flame down her spine. It landed with a fierce thud between her thighs and turned the dull ache already beating there into a yearning throb.

Her overwhelmed heart could think of no other word for all she was feeling at that moment and all she wanted from him than, “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes to all of that. With you.”

And so much more!She didn’t care if those desires made her wanton. She’d found him again, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She’d never been happier in her life.

With giddiness swelling inside her, she rushed out her confession, “I’ve been looking for you, ever since the party.” Then a light laugh of embarrassment bubbled from her lips. “I’ve been trying to discover who you truly are in the daylight, who you are without that mask, and what kind of man you might prove to be. I’d thought I’d lost all chance of that, until you sent that book of poetry. Even then it was almost lost.”

His mouth pulled down into a puzzled frown. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, all those silly gifts from the other gentlemen who attended the party.” She waved her hand to dismiss their importance. “I almost didn’t see your book because it had been put behind all the flower vases and whatnot.” She laughed at the absurdity of it all. Certain he would agree with her assessment of it, she placed her hand on his arm and leaned in as if sharing a secret. “Someone even sent me a goldfish! Can you imagine?”

His bicep stiffened beneath her fingers. “All from other gentlemen who want to court you?”

Her chest tightened at the sudden change in him. Was he jealous? He had no reason to be. She cared nothing for any of those other men. “Well, not just for me. They also wanted to send their gratitude to my parents for being invited to our party.”

“Ourparty?” he repeated. If he hadn’t been wearing a mask, she was certain she would have seen his face turn stony. Then he tilted his head as if he couldn’t quite fathom his own question as he asked, “You’re the daughter of the Duke of Durham?”

“Yes.” Sudden tension prickled over her bare arms and made her uneasy. “But what does it matter? Aren’t daughters of dukes allowed to waltz with interesting men?”

“No.” A stiff smile pulled at his lips. She didn’t need to remove his mask to know that smile never reached his eyes. “Not with men pretending to be peers.”

He stepped back, releasing her hand with a final squeeze to her fingers.

Ella stared at him, utterly confused. Such a sudden change in him—what had she said wrong?

“Spenser, I don’t understand.” When she reached for him, he took another step away, keeping himself just out of her reach. “What does it matter if—”

“Coming here tonight was a mistake. I know that now,” he said quietly as the musicians struck up the opening flourishes of a new dance, one she knew they would not be sharing. “I wanted to see you again, but now I know I was wrong to want that.”

Her heart plunged to the floor as the realization of what he was saying slammed through her. He was breaking off with her before they’d even had the chance to begin. “No, you’re not wrong. I wanted that, too.” Heedless of the guests watching them, she reached for his arm. “That’s why I’ve been looking for you and—”

He took her hand and set it away from him. “You have to stop searching.” Anguish edged his voice. “You have to stop wanting more from me than I’ll ever be capable of giving you.” The light vanished from his expression. “I’m not who you think I am.”