Page 23 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
His breath across her skin, subtle and warm, had her skin going rosy. She turned away to swallow, and if Daniel had less control, he would have done the same to douse the flames of desire.
“I think you’ve done well,” Daniel said, pulling away. “Let’s rejoin your Aunt.”
Harriet stood on unsteady feet with a nod, and Daniel pretending not to notice anything wrong, led her up the stairs.
They arrived just as Aunt Barbara stirred from her place and sat up. “My, my, did I doze off?”
“You did,” Harriet said kindly, breaking free from him. “But it’s all right, Aunt, our visit today is over.”
“Ah,” Aunt Barbara nodded, “wonderful.”
Clearing his throat, Daniel offered, “May I get you any more refreshments?”
A tray of tea and sugary buns were brought up, while Daniel sipped wine, the three spoke about the rest of the season. When Harriet, unwittingly, stuck a sticky fingertip into her mouth and sucked the melted sugar off it, Daniel clenched his eyes tight and willed his body into submission.
Putting the glass to his lips, Daniel wondered if he had rightfully considered what he was going to endure before he had made the decision.
No, but the horse had already bolted. All I can do is go along the mad ride.
Thinking about Harriet’s quick grasp of flirty looks had him a little afraid of how she would take the other lessons. Was he going to control himself if she did master the art of seduction? The look she had given him over the pianoforte, had in actuality, stopped him in his tracks.
Her eyes had held so much…promise.
He could only compare the look to a promise, as there was not enough blatant heat to call it lust, and there was not too much of a stare to call it an invitation. But simmering just under those jade orbs were longing, and knowledge. Theoretical information, he knew, but how far could he take it until it became physical?
“My Lord?”
Snapped out of his musing, Daniel looked to Harriet, painfully aware that he had missed on something that was probably crucial, “Pardon me; I was woolgathering. What was that?”
“The costume ball,” Harriet replied. “There are some wonderful shops on Bond Street that you, or we, can go, if you’d like?”
Knowing that it would be best for her to accompany him—so he wouldn’t embarrass her that night with a subpar costume—Daniel gave in at her hopeful gaze. “I’d like that, thank you.” His gaze dropped to the trays, “Is there anything I can get you?”
“Thank you, but no, My Lord,” Aunt Barbara said with a kind smile. “I’ve already surpassed the limit of sweet things my niece is allowing me to eat.”
Taking that as a polite way of saying they were ready to go, Daniel stood, “I’ll call for your coach.”
Harriet helped her aunt to her feet, then down the stairs. The snowfall had paused, but the paths were covered with the fresh fluff. They donned their coats and gloves while waiting.
As the coach came around, Daniel helped them out in the bracing cold and into the coach. After her aunt was settled, Daniel turned to Harriet and did something she never expected—he took her hand and kissed the back of it, “Thank you for today. It was delightful.”
Enthralled, Harriet slid a thumb over his jaw, “Yes, it was. I’ll see you this evening, then.”
“You will,” he said as he helped her in and the shut the door.
Harriet’s eyes held his for as long as they could before the coach took a turn and disappeared around the corner. Then, Daniel went inside, directly to the drawing room, poured out another glass of wine, and downed it.
Pressing a hand to his forehead, Daniel fought with his emotions. He had to play this game as well as he could, and not let Harriet prod more unneeded feelings from him. But Daniel could not deny that she intrigued him; for an untouched miss, she had gotten a rise out of him by a single look like a seasoned courtesan.
Her body is virginal, but her mind certainly is not.
Daniel went off to his study with another glass, but not before his eyes landed on the book of Persian Mythology and the underlined female seductress spirit. Going to it, he placed it back in its spot, knowing that, later that night, Harriet was going to ask him about that again; but this time, he had an answer for her.
* * *
The sound of dancing feet greeted Daniel when he arrived at the Manor’s ballroom, which suited him fine—he was not in the mood to dance. But that quickly changed when he saw who Harriet was dancing the waltz with—bloody Dawson.
His teeth ground so hard a headache was beginning to bloom at his temples. His vision narrowed to where he held Harriet, in the middle of her back, lower than any dancing master would have advised. Tearing his eyes away, Daniel looked for anyone else who was seeing the same gross misconduct he was seeing—but everyone else was blithely ignorant.
