Page 47 of The Duchess Trap
Without waiting for Catherine’s reply, the gentleman withdrew into the crowd.
Catherine’s lips pursed, and Duncan was aggrieved to see that her smile had vanished. He offered her his hand, and she daintily gave him her own. He listened to the musical beats, then nodded to indicate they should rejoin the dance. Once they were in motion, Catherine spoke.
“If you wanted to dance with me, Duncan, I believe the proper thing would have been to wait your turn.”
“Perhaps,” he murmured.
She heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I wished to dance with you, as well, but you did not see me pulling you away from the lords and insisting that you stand up with me immediately.”
“Yes, well,” Duncan mused, “I was not enjoying myself quite so much with the old men as you seemed to be whilst frolicking in Selkirk’s arms.”
She tossed her head. “I was not frolicking, merely completing the required steps. And besides…” She huffed as Duncan turned her so that they moved nearer to the bitter old ladies who had whispered about Benjamin earlier. “Benjamin is an old friend. That is all.”
“I hope that is true.”
Catherine’s right eyebrow quirked curiously. “I cannot decide if you are jealous of the friendship I have with Benjamin or if you are simply annoyed because anyone dared to outshine you tonight.”
“No one outshines me,” Duncan said in a tone he hoped would elicit a laugh from his wife.
She giggled. “That is true.” She smiled at him sweetly. “You are rather dashing when you want to be.”
He squared his shoulders and tightened his grip on her hands. “You think me dashing?”
“I think I have heard tales of your playful antics, but I am waiting to witness the proof with my own eyes.”
Duncan allowed his mouth to drop open in a mocking gape. “And I do not impress you this evening? I have not shown you just how lively and spirited I can be?”
Catherine tipped her head from side to side as though contemplating the matter with care. “A lively and spirited man would not have sent one of my oldest friends running. He would have waited until the end of the dance, joined us for a bit of a chat, and…”
“I understand,” Duncan interrupted. “And I shall not make the same mistake again. I will endeavor to be irresistible and disarmingly courteous until the break of day.”
She laughed, and his heart soared. Duncan had achieved what he most longed for, and now all that remained was to travel the length of his room with his beautiful wife.
The waltz swelled, drawing them into another turn. In his frenzy to keep up with her, his hold never loosened, nor did he allow the distance propriety demanded. They were too close, scandalously so, yet Duncan could not bring himself to care. Her light and sweet scent filled his lungs, and the warmth of her pressed against him burned hotter than the candles overhead.
He wanted to lower his head, to taste the flush blooming across her skin, to claim her mouth as he had claimed her hand on this floor.
But not here. Not yet.
The final notes of the waltz rang out, lingering in the hush that followed. Couples dipped and curtsied, bowing out of the dance with polite laughter. Duncan held Catherine fast, ignoring the whispers that rippled through the room.
At last, he released her hand only to offer his arm, his desire unspoken but undeniable.
He guided her from the floor, the crowd parting before them as though sensing the longing that bound them together.
Every nerve in him clamored with want. The warmth of her hand burned through his sleeve, and the faint brush of her skirts against his leg made his blood pound harder than any battle drum.
He wanted her.
God help him, he wanted her with a fervor that rattled his composure.
He recalled the words she’d said to him hours before as they’d entered the ballroom. She had told him that his yearnings were not singular—she wanted to be with him, too. Then, she had shown him the truth of those statements by being his partner and dancing just as closely as they dared.
“Come outside with me,” he said.
Her eyes widened, lips parting. He saw the quick flutter of her breath, the battle raging in her as she warred between doing what was proper and doing what felt right.
Before she could answer, a harsh voice slurred across the chamber. “Catherine! Catherine, my girl!”
