Page 44 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
And promptly coughed so violently that she dropped the cheroot. He ground the smoldering end beneath his boot while patting her on the back.
“S... sorry,” she choked.
“Did the same thing when I had my first smoke,” he said affably. “Perhaps we’ll save the tobacco for another night.”
Two men approached, one with massive shoulders and impressive height, while the other was much leaner, his face angular and his pale eyes incisive. As they neared, she glanced down and saw their hands were intertwined. Even Rosalind had to be cautious with her public displays of affection for other women, so for these men to openly show their attachment to each other spoke volumes about the tolerant atmosphere at Mr. Longbridge’s party.
“Curtis, Rowe,” Kieran said warmly. When the larger man gripped his hand and gave it a shake, the force had to be bruising because Kieran grimaced with a chuckle.
“Ransome,” the big man said, and his companion nodded by way of greeting. They both nodded atCeleste, but didn’t ask for her name, which seemed more designed as a measure of her protection rather than to exclude her.
“Theo convinced me to take a night off from work,” the angular man explained.
“Will’s going to burn his eyes out like candles and his hands will wear to stubs with the amount of writing he does,” his companion grumbled.
“There are always more political causes that need articulate voices,” Kieran said with a smile. “Enjoy yourselves.”
The couple moved on, and Celeste watched them go.
“Are you shocked that men love men?” Kieran asked neutrally.
“The world’s a beautiful and expansive place,” she answered. “Their affection for each other is enviable.”
He smiled in response, making her heart leap. “Let’s hunt down the source of the music.”
After she took his arm, they followed the melodies from the landing into a ballroom, where colored lanterns hanging from the ceiling gave the massive space a more intimate, enchanted feel. Situated on a dais was an octet playing music Celeste had never heard before, but it made her toes tap. Like more typical balls and assemblies, guests filled the dance floor. Unlike those balls and assemblies, however, they were not performing any dances she’d witnessed.
Intimatewas a tame word for it. Not even the waltz could match this dance for suggestiveness. Couples were draped over and around each otheras though they were wet silk, moving in time with the music. Here and there as well, she spotted men dancing with men, and women with women.
It was indeed a measure of how careful and protective Mr. Longbridge was that his guests felt that they didn’t have to hide their true selves, and she warmed with appreciation that such a place existed.
“There isn’t a better orchestra in London,” she said above the music. She swayed as it washed over her, its rising and falling notes transporting her.
Kieran downed the last of his drink and put the glass on the floor. He held out his hand. “Dance with me, Salome?”
She stared at his ungloved palm as Eve surely stared at the apple.
After she threw back the last of her drink, she slid her fingers into his. The languorous tension in his body seeped into all the corners of her being. Together, their gazes only on each other, they walked onto the dance floor.
Once in place, he took her in his arms. Her skin sparkled with awareness as one of his hands clasped hers, whilst his other hand cupped her waist. Never had she felt so alive in her own body as she did at that moment.
Then he began to move, effortlessly guiding her across the floor. She gave in to the urge to laugh. Dancing with Kieran Ransome, at last. No longer a girlish fantasy but a woman’s reality.
“What’s your first memory of pleasure?” he murmured.
Her gaze flew to his. “My what?”
“Was it a food? Feeling an object? Or did you see something that filled you with unfamiliar pleasurable sensations?” He snuggled her closer to his body and her mouth went dry.
“When I was a little creature toddling around on wobbly legs,” she said softly, her palms molding to the broad plain of his back, “Ma had to wrap my hands in batting because whatever I touched, I put in my mouth.”
His lips curved. “I like this fixation of yours. Keep talking.”
“One day,” Celeste went on, “my mother was busy, and forgot to wrap my hands. I found a boiled sweet she was saving for Dom, and of course, into my mouth it went. She fished it out right away, but that burst of sweetness... I’d never had anything like that. It was as if the sky filled with light and my body soared up to meet it.” She wryly glanced at his expression, but instead of looking bored, he seemed enraptured. “Surely you’re disappointed that it wasn’t more prurient.”
“Pleasure is pleasure,” he answered, turning her in his arms, and her heart spun within her. When she faced him again, his eyes were intent and dark as he stared down at her. “However we find it, and whatever bestows it. I’ll never sneer at pleasure.”
“You wouldn’t, would you?” She liked hearing the wordpleasureon his lips, as if it was not merely a sensation but a spiritual pursuit. It must be something wondrous to share pleasure with such a man. Withhim.
