Page 36 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“No,” she replied with a faint lift of her chin.

His smile returned, though it carried a hint of danger, of intent held just beneath the surface. It robbed her of sense for several heartbeats, yet she did not look away.

“Dance with me.”

Darcy blinked. “Dance?”

“There is a ballroom below,” he said, as though the notion were entirely ordinary. “Tonight, Aphrodite indulges the illusion of propriety and arranges itself to resemble a society assembly.”

Darcy laughed, the sound bright with disbelief. “How astonishing that people come to such a place, abandon every pretense of decorum, and then recreate it for their amusement. They must be desperately bored.”

His gaze held hers. “What they enjoy is the knowledge that wickedness lies only a step beyond it.”

Darcy considered that, her amusement softening into something more thoughtful. “I have never learned to dance,” she admitted, a faint flush rising to her cheeks.

“Then I shall teach you.”

She studied him. “Why?”

“Because I find I want to dance with you, and the discovery surprises me as much as it does you.”

A slow breath left her. “Am I so easily read, even behind a mask?” she asked dryly.

“Yes.”

She laughed again. “Part of me is tempted to accept,” Darcy murmured, almost to herself, “but that same part warns it would be exceedingly unwise to say yes to a man of your particular charm.”

His blue gaze darkened slightly, amusement flickering beneath it. “Flattery will win you everything with me, Miss Red.”

Darcy’s lips curved despite herself as her pulse quickened and that dangerous awareness stirred low within her.

How delightfully rakish you are.

She ought to refuse him and retreat from the madness of the temptation holding her fast. Instead, she extended her hand. “Then teach me.”

CHAPTER 13

That was all the permission Sebastian required. He closed his hand around Red’s and drew her toward the staircase, his stride unhurried but purposeful. She followed with a soft, breathless laugh that curled about his senses far more pleasurably than it should. For one disorienting instant, the sound called to mind Miss Darcy Whitley’s unguarded laughter at Vauxhall Gardens, softer and freer, yet possessing the same bewildering power to unsettle him.

Sebastian frowned. It had irritated him to become so acutely aware of the soft curve of Darcy’s figure as she moved, the delicate arch of her throat when she turned her head, the quiet, curious glances she cast toward him when she believed herself unobserved. Such awareness had been both unwelcome and wholly inconvenient. Sebastian tightened his jaw, forced the recollection aside, and lengthened his stride.

“Are we racing toward some rare performance, my lord?” she asked.

“I mean to have you in my arms,” he replied without apology, glancing back at her, “before you recover the good sense to change your mind.”

She scoffed, and the sound pleased him in a way that was becoming dangerously compelling. It was unlike him to be so readily ensnared by a woman, yet he wanted to draw that sound from her again, to provoke it and coax it into something softer, more yielding, then kiss her once more and take whatever breathless response she might offer into his own mouth, until even that sharp little scoff dissolved into something far more intimate and wanton.

He said nothing further. The corridors were crowded, the air thick with heat, perfume, and the low murmur of indulgence. They passed through the press of patrons, masked ladies with flushed cheeks and gentlemen whose gazes lingered too boldly, until the ballroom opened before them in a vision of excess. Light spilled from several chandeliers, glinting upon polished floors and silks of every shade. Music swelled from the orchestra, the violins lifting into a waltz familiar in form yet wholly transformed in execution.

Here, nothing was restrained. Couples moved with a freedom that would never be tolerated within polite society. Hands lingered in places that invited far more than propriety would allow. Bodies curved closer, breath mingling, laughter low and suggestive. It was not merely a dance but an invitation to debauchery.

Beside him, Red gave a soft gasp. Sebastian looked down at her, his gaze sharpening as he took in the delicate flush that spread across what little he could see of her face beneath the mask. Smiling, he drew her into his arms. She came against him with a startled stiffness, her hands for a moment before settling uncertainly upon his shoulders. He closed the distance between them deliberately, until no space remained in which to pretend at propriety.

She trembled as though the force of sensation alone might undo her. For a moment, Sebastian wondered if she might indeed faint.

How innocent are you, Red?

The thought should have amused him. Instead, it roused a hot, carnal hunger. Sebastian shifted his hold with quiet deliberation, one hand settling at her waist while the other guided her fingers between his.