Page 18 of Sinful Persuasion of a Lady in the Making
“It’s blank!” She was exasperated, but at least she sounded humored, and he threw her a mischievous grin.
“No, no,” he urged. “It’s definitely not blank. Look again. Here.” He leaned in closer still, so much so that he could smell her sweet jasmine scent, and he inhaled deeply, breathing her in. He let his clipped fingernail hover over the gap. “Can’t you see?”
“No,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, a hand to her throat. Her breath was shallow. He could hear it. “I can’t see anything,” she squeaked.
“There, it says quite plainly. Your next dance is with Lord Sebastian Nicholes, Viscount of Hartwood.”
“No, it says nothing of the sort. It’s quite clearly empty, and besides, that’s your… oh!”
Her laughter rang out, free and untamed, her eyes sparkling with the delight of it all, and the sound rang in his heart. And then she calmed and turned to look at him, smiling gently.
“Oh,” she repeated, calmer, “that’s your name.”
“It is, indeed,” he said, looking back into her eyes. “So shall we dance?”
“Yes,” she said, “let’s.”
