Page 86 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“Neither have I.”

She bit her bottom lip. “That isn’t reassuring.”

His gaze was drawn to where her white teeth tugged at her lip. He wanted to kiss her there, to ease her nervousness. Instead, he began to lead, and they twirled across the dance floor in perfect unison.

Her breath caught and her magnificent breasts rose and fell in her tight bodice. Her blue eyes rose to his. “You lied! You are an exceptional dancer.”

“I’ve mentioned that my mother insisted on dancing instruction.”

Her lips parted. “Yes, but the waltz is different and newer. You should have warned me.”

“What would be the fun in that? Spontaneity attracts attention.” He lowered his head and whispered, “See how they all watch.”

Her eyes were wide as saucers. “You are not helping.”

“Think of something else.”

Her gaze never left his. “The truth is I’m finding it difficult to stop thinking about our afternoon encounter in my bedchamber. Have you thought of it at all?”

Hell yes. He’d thought of little else the past couple of days. Not even his work had been able to distract him. “It wasn’t smart.”

“I know. Our agreement,” she said. “But I told you I didn’t regret closing that door.”

It was near impossible for Warwick not to pull her flush against him, to kiss her on the dance floor for all to see. To claim her as his.

Madness.

He pulled his attention back to the dance floor. On Adeline’s lovely face. Her eyebrows drew together. “I’m feeling a bit breathless, Your Grace.”

“It’s the dance.”

She shook her head. “But I am fit. I believe in vigorous exercise and walk in the park each day with Hasmik.”

Vigorous exercise. He imaged another type of activity they could do together. Visions of Adeline’s smooth, strong legs wrapped about his waist as he thrust inside her made him stiffen in his trousers.

Holy hell. Not here. Not now. He had little control when she was near. She was right. The dance wasn’t helping. He tried to calm his own racing heart and quell his desire for the woman in his arms.

“It’s working though,” she said. “Everyone is watching us.”

“Good.” His voice was gruff.

Her gaze darted to the side. “Even Edwin is staring. And he’s frowning something fierce. Am I a bad person for feeling satisfaction from his ire?”

“No.”

He spun her and his legs brushed her skirts. His fingers spread and brushed the underside of her breast. His body felt heavy and warm. The dance was coming to an end. He was loathe to let her go.

“Warwick, I want to be honest with you. I want to do it again.”

“Another dance?”

“Don’t be silly. I want to kiss again. All last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I fell apart in your arms.”

She’d bring him to his knees right then and there on the dance floor. He stared in her eyes and knew it was no feminine trap, and that she was experiencing a burgeoning desire. It was more alluring to him than the wiles of a practiced courtesan. There was only one course of action. The dance had ended, and he led her to the open French doors in the pretense of gaining air. Then, when he was certain they wouldn’t attract attention, he swept her right out of the ballroom and onto the terrace.

She gasped. “Warwick!”

Without releasing her hand, he hurried down the stairs and into the dim garden until they were secluded in the shadows of trees. Moonlight illuminated her upturned face. Her beauty tugged at his soul.