Page 41 of A Chance to Dance with the Duke
A rush of words filled his mind, each more inappropriate than the last.
Why didn’t your family allow this years ago?
You are beautiful with the wind in your hair.
If you marry me, I’ll take you out riding whenever you wish.
The last sounded more like a plea, even in his head. For a long moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak. “We ought to give you more lessons then.”
“Truly?”
He smiled up at her. He couldn’t not, even though his heart felt as if it might burst at the sheer joy and gratitude in her eyes. “Of course.”
How? When? She didn’t ask, and he was torn between relief and disappointment.
This facade of courtship couldn’t go on forever. And he didn’t want it to. But he also didn’t want to rush her. After the way their friendship started, he couldn’t expect her to return his feelings.
Not yet.
“One day,” he said slowly. “One day you’ll be such an excellent rider, you’ll be galloping across meadows and leaping over streams.”
Her smile turned wistful and her eyes grew suspiciously wet. “Oh, I hope so. That sounds marvelous.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” he murmured.
And oh, how he hoped he’d be at her side to see it.
Two days later,Meg was in his arms. Right where he wanted her.
Of course, he could have done without her mother surreptitiously keeping watch in the corner, or her younger brother’s constant interruptions, either.
“One, two, three…one, two, three,” she murmured softly. Her lips curved up gently at the edges, and her gaze held his.
But his feet were blastedly slow. Off on each beat.
He stopped their dancing with an irritated sigh.
Her smile broadened. “You’re thinking too hard.”
“No one has ever accused me of such a thing.” His tone was dry, and he made her laugh, as he’d hoped. When she swatted his arm playfully, he couldn’t help but laugh as well.
“It’s true,” she said, her tone all earnest sincerity. “You’re thinking about the steps rather than listening to the music.”
He stayed quiet. He could argue he was doing neither. If he was distracted, it was by the movement of her lips as she kept count, or the sound of her voice, or the fresh, floral scent of her hair, or the way she fit into his arms like she was meant to live there.
She leaned in to peer up at him and catch his gaze. She kept leaning in until her mother coughed. Loudly.
Her mother had been all too eager to encourage this latest lesson. Though Meg hadn’t told her mother that this dance lesson was forhissake. She’d made it seem as though they wished to practice so that at the next ball, she would not make a fool of herself. Or him.
He’d wanted to argue, but Meg had shot him a warning glance, and her mother pinched her lips.
Until Meg added with downcast eyes, “I should not wish to embarrass His Grace as I have in the past.”
Her mother sighed, as if in agreement, and rage boiled up in him swift and fierce.
He leaned down now, meeting her halfway. “You know very well you never embarrassed me. And you never could.”
Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as she pulled back for propriety’s sake.
