Page 11 of Never a Duchess
He opened his eyes, hoping the heat of his gaze scorched her as it slipped slowly down her body. Five years was a long time to ache for one woman.
The air crackled as Callan prowled closer.
Miss Ware brought a trembling hand to her throat.
Could she feel the powerful thrum of desire?
“Good evening, Miss Ware.” He spoke in a seductive timbre, tilting his head, studying all the places he shouldn’t—her luscious mouth, the soft swell of her breasts. “I’ve come to claim ye for the next dance.”
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, owning her, if only for a moment. The rapid beat of her pulse pounded against his thumb. With his eyes fixed on hers, he moved to cup her elbow, stroking the soft skin of her forearm.
She moistened her lips. “Your name is not on my card.”
“Dance with me, and my name will be forever imprinted in yer memory.” He could easily lose himself in this game. Be a rakehell who only bedded one woman. “Dance with me, and I promise to leave ye breathless.”
Though she trembled beneath his touch, she tried to douse passion’s flames. “Are you skilled in the cotillion, then?”
Callan leaned closer, his mouth brushing against her ear. “I’m skilled in the only dance that matters, madam. And I mean to show ye every wicked step.”
Miss Ware sucked in a sharp breath. A little flustered, she snatched her elbow free and stepped back. “You have demonstrated your point quite well, Your Grace.”
Callan straightened and forced a smile, although his body failed to make the same quick recovery. “Now, having witnessed three different approaches, ye have a better understanding of the subject.”
“Yes,” she said, looking everywhere but at him.
“As part of yer studies, I can continue in the same vein.”
“But you’re returning to Scotland soon.”
Yes, he was due to leave in a few days. If only they’d had this conversation months ago. “Nae for another week or two.” He could cancel appointments, delay his departure.
“I see.” Nerves had her biting the inside of her cheek. “It would be unwise to partake in similar exercises.”
Unwise? Had he aroused her with the mere suggestion of a dalliance? “Because ye’re afraid?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“In the interests of safety, use me to observe the male species. If ye would rather someone else be the subject, watch me at work with Miss Withers. It might—”
“No!”
“No?” he said, mimicking her.
She fell silent and turned to face the window.
He could almost hear her inner turmoil.
He was conflicted, too. Returning to the ballroom should be a priority. First thing tomorrow, he should visit Roxburgh and berate him for not taking proper care of his sister. But in all likelihood, he would never get to see Miss Ware alone again, and that made him want to lock her in the chamber and throw away the key.
Regret hung heavily in his chest.
He could have any woman, yet he wanted her.
His need was like a living thing growing inside of him. No medicine or tonic could cure him of his ailment. All he could do was suffer and try to ease the crippling symptoms.
But then fate handed him a boon.
“Very well. We shall continue our studies in the name of science,” she said, staring at those strolling about the garden. “After all, human advancement is the topic of the moment.”
