Page 41 of What a Courtesan Wants
He looked to Lucinda, who had paused between songs to take a sip of champagne. Elizabeth gave him a little nudge, mischief in her eyes that made him want to remind her thathewas supposed to play matchmaker here.
Yet, he couldn’t deny the urge to take Lucinda into his arms, even if only for the length of a dance. He’d gone out of his way during this party to present to his guests the illusion that he and Lady Bowery were merely mutual friends of Benedict’s, in order to keep her sponsorship of Elizabeth respectable. But with so many people flitting from partner to partner for the dancing, Aubrey supposed he could indulge for the length of a song.
Elizabeth went to Lucinda and sat beside her on the bench while Aubrey approached, anxiety overwhelming him for some inexplicable reason. Funny, how something so simple as a dance had him on edge, when he’d been on top of this woman, inside of her. But a dance … a kiss … both seemed far more poignant and intimate, two things he’d never had with her. And suddenly he wanted them both like he’d never wanted anything in his life.
“Perhaps a cotillion?” Elizabeth said, pulling sheet music from a stack resting atop the instrument.
Aubrey offered Lucinda his hand, a silent question in his gaze. Lucinda looked from him to Elizabeth, who nodded as if to encourage her sponsor to take a reprieve from playing. Glancing back at his gloved hand, Lucinda hesitated only a moment. A breath of relief escaped him in a rush as she allowed him to pull her to her feet and guide her to where Hugh and Evelyn were joining Kit and another young lady, as well as a pair of the younger guests.
“I have not danced in some time,” Lucinda warned him as they took their place in the circle of dancers. “I do apologize if I trample your toes.”
Offering a smile, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing gesture. “My feet will have never been so fortunate.”
The music began, so he bowed to her, never breaking her gaze as she dipped into an elegant curtsy. Her hand tightened on his, even as she placed the opposite one into Benedict’s grasp. They executed the first change as part of the group, though Aubrey could hardly take his eyes off Lucinda, even with Evelyn’s hand in his on the other side. He could typically dance without keeping time in his head, but measured each count now, waiting for the coveted moment he could pry Lucinda away from the rest of the dancers for the first figure.
He held her close because he wanted to, but told himself others would simply think it was due to the limited space of the drawing room.
“How well you dance, Mr. Drake,” she teased.
He grinned. “Rowland ensured I received lessons from a dancing master. I am pleased to display the benefits of my instruction for you.”
Laughter and conversation faded to nothing as he guided her through another turn.
“My toes were prepared for battle,” he confided, dipping his head and lowering his voice so that only she could hear. “But, you’re almost as good a dancer as I am.”
She erupted into laughter at that, and he felt the gazes of the others on them, but couldn’t bring himself to care. Her hands were warm through the layers of their gloves, her floral, perfumed scent destroying all his good sense.
“I take that as high praise coming from a man as light on his feet as you. You are a man of many talents.”
“Oh, Lucy,” he murmured, his voice growing husky as desire overwhelmed him in a rush. “I’ve yet to treat you toallmy various … talents.”
This time, there was nothing funny about his little quip. Instead of laughing, she returned his heated gaze, her tongue creeping out to wet her lips. He stifled a groan at the sight of it, desperate to feel its stroke down his neck, his chest, along the rigid length of his cock.
“I’ve only just begun,” he added with a little wink.
“You are full of surprises, you know. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
Aubrey stumbled, and quickly recovered. For a moment he forgot how to breathe. She couldn’t have shocked him more had she doused him with cold water.
“What?” he rasped, his throat so tight he could barely get the words out. “What did you say?”
Lucinda tore her gaze from him, face flushing . “I … I …”
“Lucy—”
“Aubrey, please. Don’t.”
“You said … I heard you …”
“It was nothing,” she said, her tone clipped and the tilt of her chin dismissive.
“It wasnotnothing,” he said, cringing as he realized he’d spoken loud enough that Hugh and Evelyn were giving him puzzled looks as they swiveled past. Lowering his voice, he tried again. “Not to me.”
She shook her head as if trying to keep his words from taking root in her mind. “I say that I love things all the time—hot chocolate, the opera, sunny weather. It doesn’t mean—”
“That you see me as anything other than …”
He clamped his mouth shut, not daring to utter the truth of their association aloud, even as the music and conversation kept others from overhearing. He would take no chances.
