Page 8 of Tempting the Marquess

Taking a deep breath, William took her hand, encircled her waist, and moved to begin this newfangled dance, the waltz. Except instead of stepping backward, she went forward and slammed hard into his chest.

Ohhell.

For an excruciatingly long moment her breasts pressed and rubbed against him, and several of the soft, floral-scented curls piled high on her head teased his cheek. Just as they would if she were naked under him. She’d be flushed and panting, hoarse from crying out with pleasure as he sucked and pinched her jutting nipples. But he wouldn’t oblige her with his cock, not right away. No, he’d tease her. Take her to the edge and back until she begged for it. Only then would he spread her thighs wide and take her, feel the tight, scalding grip of her quim, the sting of her nails leaving crescent moons on his back as she arched and screamed in ecstasy…

Even faster than in the hallway, his cock hardened painfully. Yet seconds later, in her gasping haste to disengage herself for a second time, Lady Samantha managed to grind her heel into his instep.

“Terribly sorry,” he said, welcoming the eye-watering punishment for such obscene thoughts, and salvation from another potentially humiliating breeches situation. “Obviously it’s been far too long between ballroom outings forme.”

And too long between women.

It was a very sad state of affairs when a man of details couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d ventured into a feminine boudoir.

“You are kind to tell such a large fib,” Lady Samantha replied, her cheeks crimson and her eyes huge with dismay. “But I know it’s entirely my fault. Two months is not nearly long enough to learn how to dance.”

Intrigued, he tilted his head. “Two months?”

“Yes. I’ve only recently returned to London from Miss Chadwick’s Academy for Young Ladies. That was the school I attended, and taught at, up in Yorkshire. Unfortunately they didn’t have a dancing master, so since I came back to stand as godmother to the twins, Aunt Jane and Caroline and Stephen have been trying to teach me some basic steps. As poor Stephen knows, and you have now experienced, I’m a lackluster student.”

William frowned. “Not at all. I doubt anyone could learn these dances in such a short time. But what did you do between terms when the school closed? Travel? Stay at the Claremont country estate?”

Hurt flashed across Lady Samantha’s face, and her feet faltered again. Christ. Too soon. His first foray into interrogation, and he’d bungled it completely. At this rate she wouldn’t be running into him ever again, but sprinting in the other direction if she so much as glimpsed him in her vicinity.

Swiftly, he guided her away from the other dancers and toward the edge of the ballroom so she might relax and hopefully forget that he’d even asked a question. But then she rallied and half-smiled.

“No. Mother and Papa preferred me to stay at Miss Chadwick’s year round, London being so dirty and unsafe and all. And there was nobody at the country seat, so I couldn’t go there. That is why I stayed in Yorkshire even after my schooling was completed, as an assistant teacher. It wouldn’t have been so wonderful in London anyway, with everyone so busy…although seeing Stephen and Caroline get married might have been nice,” she finished wistfully.

Anger rose on her behalf, until he remembered this could all be an elaborate lie. “Not well done by your parents.”

Lady Samantha’s lips tightened momentarily. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t so verybad.”

“I’m sure. But twelve years is a long time to remain in exile.”

“Sometimes it felt like forever. Making friends, only to wave goodbye when they went home or graduated. I shouldn’t complain, though. There were some lovely teachers and students, and I quite enjoyed the church fetes and village afternoon teas. Plus, Aunt Jane sent me money and gifts and weekly letters with all the news. Occasionally she wrote aboutyou!”

“I’m sure I can guess the topics,” William replied, almost smiling at her clumsy attempt to move the conversation topic away from herself. “I work too hard, am away too much and it is past time I found a nice lady to marry?”

Her eyes shifted guiltily, but she remained silent as the closing notes of the waltz sounded, and her loyalty had him fighting the urge to pull her close. Instead, he bowed and then guided her back to where Stephen and the others were standing.

When, exactly, had he lost his mind? Dancing and a little conversation shouldn’t inspire much of a reaction, yet for the first time in months he actually felt...alive.

Damnation.

White might have neglected to pass on a “Beginners Guide to Interrogating Possible Lady Traitors” manual, but if one did exist, no doubt the first rule outlined why an operative did not think about bedding the person they were supposed to be investigating. Rule two probably covered the ban on liking or admiringthem.

Thank God the actual assignment appeared straightforward. A few more conversations, some dancing, perhaps a picnic or two, or brisk trot along Rotten Row, and he’d surely have all the information he needed. A month at most and he could provide several reports to White and move on, leaving her unscathed and his conscience clear.

An outstanding, remarkably well thought-out plan, said conscience applauded. By the way, you remember the hand that was platonically and appropriately at Lady Samantha’s back while you were walking? Well, let’s just say it has travelled significantly south.

William glanced down and closed hiseyes.

Ohhell.