Page 122 of Tempting the Highland Spy
Belle returned, almost on cue. She’d already greeted him. That much was clear from her conversation. Leaning closer to Claire, she suggested the two of them seek out a cup of punch. Claire’s brow furrowed in slight puzzlement, but Belle pointed out the dark-haired young musician standing by the punch bowl, and no further convincing was necessary.
“You wore that gown in Scotland,” he observed.
And you nearly stripped it off my body while the others waltzed.
“I’m rather fond of it.”
A devilish smile lit his eyes. “As am I.”
“If you’ve come to set your sense of responsibility at ease, I am most definitelynotwith child.” She planted her hands on her waist, emphasizing her words.
“That isn’t why I’m here. Though if you were with child, I’d be delighted.” He regarded her silently as her heart thundered against her ribs. “Grace, I’ve missed you.”
She studied his face, drinking him in. “Have you now?”
“More than I ever thought possible.”
She heard the words with their slight undercurrent of pain. How desperately she wanted to believe him.
But she’d no intention of surrendering her heart.
“Is that why you’ve come?” she asked finally.
His expression grew solemn. “I’ve come to ask you a question.”
“A question?” Her heart seemed to skip a beat.
He smiled. “Gracie Mae Winters, may I have this dance?”
“This dance?” she parroted, rather certain she’d misunderstood him.
“As I recall, you wanted to dance the waltz. And now, so do I. So, what do you say, Grace? Will you dance with me?”
Of all the things he might have asked her, that was perhaps the least expected.
So, of course, she said, “Yes.”
Taking her hand, he escorted her onto the dance floor. His features were unreadable, his mouth set in a sly half smile that was endearing even as it intrigued her. What was the man up to? Had he come to coax her into plying her skills to benefit some mission he’d undertaken?
Smoothly, he led her in the steps of the waltz. There was no need for a clunkyone-two-three,one-two-three. He moved with a skill she had not expected he possessed. Not a natural talent. His movements were still slightly mechanical, and he seemed to be making a concerted effort to avoid her toes, but each step was precise and in perfect time with the music. Somehow, his lack of natural ability made it all the more endearing. Had he actually studied and learned the dance—for her?
No, not for her. For a mission, perhaps. But she could not deceive herself that he’d crossed an ocean—and learned to waltz, no less—forher.
“I must say, you haven’t trod on my toes. Not even once,” she said, meeting his warm gaze.
“An improvement over the last time we attempted this.”
“Most definitely.” She wanted to smile, a full-bodied smile that betrayed the way her heart was soaring, but she held back. It wouldn’t do to show her joy to all the world—or at least the dancers in this ballroom. The return to a reality without Harrison would be all the more painful if she put her hope on full display.
“I must say, it’s much more enjoyable when I’m not causing you to yelp in pain.”
“Indeed,” she said. “Have you been practicing?”
“I took lessons,” he said almost sheepishly. “My sister deserves a commendation for enduring my clumsiness. I wonder if her toes will ever be the same.”
The image of Harrison—courageous, clever, dignified Harrison—enlisting his sister to tutor him charmed her, and a little flame kindled deep within the vicinity of her heart.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she said truthfully, hoping her voice did not convey too much emotion. “Are you in New York on a mission?”
