Page 5 of The Rakehell's Seduction
“I’m twenty-two, Mr. Worthing. Even though I am unmarried, I should be able to waltz. My father and the matrons agree. It helps that my reputation is beyond reproach.”
“Not for long,” Ambrose muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” she demanded.
“Shall we dance then?” Ambrose stepped around Perdita and once more claimed her hand, pulling her toward the dancers lining up for the waltz.
He tugged her into his arms, fitting her body snugly against his.
“Move back, Mr. Worthing, you’re too close,” Alex protested. Flashes of heat scoured her body in tiny flames, licking at her breasts and between her legs. Being flush against him nearly robbed her of her senses. She’d danced other waltzes, but no man had affected her like this. Alex didn’t like it.
“That is the point of dancing a waltz, Alex. A man likes to hold his woman close, feel her breasts against his chest. He wants to feel her body against the length of his.”
“But I’m notyourwoman,” Alex pointed out. If she had her way, she’d never belong to any man. She was quite content to live the rest of her days alone and in control of her own destiny. Her father allowed her quite a bit of freedom, and someday she would have the lands and money settled upon her in a trust that her uncle would be in control of, but her uncle was a dear old man and would let her go on as she pleased. There was no need to marry. After what she’d suffered when Marshall had left Lothbrook, she couldn’t bear to think of falling in love with another man, and she certainly wouldn’t marry someone unless she loved him.
“But you could be my woman. All you need say is ‘Please, Ambrose,’ and I’m yours to command. I only wish to worship at the altar of such loveliness.” His tone was rich and low, teasing, and yet not mocking as she’d expected.
Alex scoffed, trying to ignore the way his bewitching voice made her feel. “Do those pretty phrases actually work? Do women fall at your feet begging for your attentions?”
“Every single time,” he assured her with a brazen smile as the dance started.
Very well, I can play too.She flashed him a smile back.
Alex aimed purposely for his foot and trod on it. He narrowed his eyes but gave no other indication that he’d noticed. His fingers around her waist dug deep. She stifled a gasp when the primal possessive touch shot straight to her core, making her wet. That was a problem.
She was not a stranger to sexual desire. She’d come upon one of her father’s grooms once in the summer when he’d been cleaning the stables out. He had removed his waistcoat and shirt as he mucked out the stalls. Alex had leaned against the door, hidden from view as she’d watched the play of light and shadows on his muscled body. That was the first time her body had awakened, but she had not acted on that desire. And much later, when she’d fallen in love with Marshall, they had stolen kisses in the shadows of the stable and behind the hedges of her garden and it had been wonderful. The dizzying feel of building desire had left her aching and desperate to know fulfillment. But she’d never gone past kisses. She would not let a man like Ambrose draw her in with honeyed words or heated gazes. It reminded her too much of Marshall, and thoughts of him always sliced her deep.
A little voice inside her head whispered that Ambrose wasn’t Marshall.
She didn’t want to want Ambrose. She couldn’t afford to give in to hunger for a man like him. He’d ruin her and not look back once his coach left Lothbrook. Alex raised her eyes to his face. His aquiline nose and sculpted jaw were beautiful. The temptation to be seduced was impossibly strong, but she would not give in.
Lucky for me, his arrogance makes him less attractive.
“You know, I would never bed a man like you. You’re an arrogant, pompous arse.”
For a second he blinked, as though startled by her tart response. Then he recovered and smiled. “You don’t know the first thing about arses, my dear.”
She flinched at the fierce, leonine look in his eyes.
“I sense you don’t like me, but I wonder if it’s men in general, dear Alex, that sends you into a such a state of scorn?” he mused thoughtfully. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Did you love another man? Is that it? Someone broke your heart?” He was teasing, but she stumbled at his too accurate guess.
“Please, I don’t wish to dance anymore,” she whispered, trying to get him to stop. She didn’t want to talk about Marshall, didn’t want to think about him or the dreams she’d built that had been shattered when he abandoned her to marry another woman for more money.
Ambrose stared at her, and she looked away, not wishing to see a look of gleeful pride.
“I hadn’t—I’m sorry…I didn’t realize I might be right. I was jesting. Please, Alex, let us finish the dance.” His tone was gentle, and it drew her face back to his. Those brown eyes were warm and soft and apologetic.
They continued the waltz in silence, the music cloaking them in its rhythmic pulse. Alex and Ambrose fell into a relaxed pace, legs perfectly in sync, bodies just the right distance apart. He was a wonderful dancer, she would allow him that.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked when they reached the corner of the room and began to move back out amid the twirling couples.
“Hmm?” Alex was barely listening. She was caught up in the lovely feel of dancing with him.
“You look both relaxed and perplexed all at once.”
“Oh. I was thinking that you are a wonderful dancer. Most of the men in Lothbrook have trod on my toes too often for me to enjoy dancing. Until now.” Even Marshall hadn’t been a good dancer. Passable, yes, but never divine like this. She’d always wanted to waltz with a man who could do it properly, and now she was glad to find that desire hadn’t been a waste. This was more than agreeable—it was lovely. Almost too lovely, and she knew it would come to an end.
“So you admit I’m notallbad.” Ambrose’s smile was piratical. It was possessive, predatory, and completely intoxicating. The power of it impacted her deep inside, like an explosion of sensation and hunger.
