Page 93 of Wild Lily
He stepped back a bit, wrapped one arm around her waist and took her other hand high. Then he led her slowly into the steps. “I’m not.”Not with you.
She beamed at him. “You like this?”
“With you I do.” He waltzed her around the floor, away from the Axminster carpet so they could glide along the polished wooden floor. “You’re very good, too.”
She flung back her head to grin. “And you are expert. How many women have you charmed, dear sir, dancing with them in ballrooms and gardens?”
In her question, he heard the implications of another, more serious. “I’ve waltzed with others, many others.”
“And did you—?” She bit her lip, missed a step and paused. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You can know. I once considered marrying a young woman. We were both quite young. She married another.”
Lily hung her head. “I see.”
He put two fingers to her chin. “Look at me.”
When she lifted her face, her eyes held trepidation.
“I was twenty years of age and thought I loved her. I declared for her and she for me, but we were not to be.”
Lily waited, searching his face for more.
“She had another offer and she took it.”Miserable in her bargain, too, say the gossips.“I’m glad she did.”
Hope blended with curiosity in Lily’s large gorgeous eyes.
He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs stroking the exquisite arch of her bones. “She hated to dance. Did not ride astride. And would never have made love in my carriage.”
“She’s a proper lady.”
“Proper?” He thought of Margaret Sheffield in many other terms. Voluptuous, opportunistic, greedy. “Very much so.”
“And you’re not ashamed that I’m not…like that?”
He crushed her to him. “That you’re kind and thoughtful? That you’d go to our tenants in the driving rain to nurse them? That you’d want to dance with me?”
“Often?”
“Until you wear out my shoes.”
She vibrated with glee. Narrowed her eyes. And asked, “In the moonlight?”
He nodded, a silly grin on his face. “I do believe Valentine has a garden off his ballroom terrace.”
She hugged him. “And you’ll make love to me—”
My greatest pleasure.“Anywhere you like.”
“Oh? Really? Dear sir, be careful what you say.”
“Where, madam, would you like?”
“In his garden?”
He hooted in laughter. Scooping her up in his arms, he took her to their bed and placed her down upon the sheets. Then he bent over her. “Wherever you wish. Whenever you wish.”
“You are so kind,” she said.
And more in love with you than I can say.
