Page 33 of The Cornish Lyon

And she was his.

Her gown, of cream silk, sparkled in the light as though encrusted with jewels and her head appeared to be haloed in the same way. One hand held up the train by a loop on her finger, and the other rested feather-light on the banisters.

But it was not the gown that drew his attention. It was her face. Never had she looked so lovely, not even after they’d had a fast canter in the park and she’d pulled up her horse, cheeks pink and eyes alight with such enjoyment it had made his heart ache. He had eyes only for her, the crowd receding into a blur around him. She possessed the face of an angel, her lips slightly parted in the ghost of a smile as she began to walk down the wide staircase. A staircase that could have been made for just such an entrance.

And a miracle had happened. She had eyes only for him.

She didn’t take them off him as she slowly descended those stairs, with every person in the room unable to do anything but stare. Surely none of them had ever seen such a beautiful creature, risen as though from the pages of a fairy tale. A princess. A magical creature. His wife.

His heart swelled with love. Love, not lust. Well, some lust, of course, but all the rest was love.

Somehow the realization that this was his wife approaching hadn’t sunk in. It had been as if she were some woman he’d never met before and he was her servant. He swallowed, everyone else in the room unimportant, unnoticed. All he could see was her.

She reached the bottom step and paused, her eyes still fixed on his. The little smile twitched and with slow steps she approached.

His breath caught in his throat, and if Marianne couldn’t hear his heart pounding he’d have been astonished. Sweat prickled down his back and across his forehead, but he was not thinking with his body for once, but with his heart. This fairy-tale princess was the woman he wanted to cherish, not just to bed. This was the woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life, not just as a business arrangement between friends, but as lovers. As two people who wanted to be together forever, shutting out the world.

She stopped in front of him. He could see tiny seed pearls embedded in her hair, sparkling in the candlelight. Her eyes…how could he not have looked so deeply into them before and seen the gold flecks hidden there in their depths? Of course, her glasses had hidden this from him. Her slightly parted, luscious lips…the swell of her alabaster breasts. And now he felt some of the lust return, mingling with the unaccustomed longing to protect this vulnerable creature forever.

She curtseyed, at last dropping her gaze.

When she rose from the curtsey, she met his eyes again.

He held out his hand. “Madam, will you dance?”

And now she did smile. “With pleasure, Captain.”

Someone, Marianne, perhaps, had instructed the orchestra to strike up a waltz. As the music rose to the stuccoed ceiling, Fitz whirled his wife out onto the dance floor, for a few moments the only couple dancing before an audience of their guests. But he didn’t even notice they were alone, because all he could think of was the lithe creature in his arms and the feel of her body under his fingers as they danced. There was no need for words.

Was this a dream he was going to waken from? It wasn’t just her unexpected arrival, her transformation into a princess, or holding her in his arms. It was the look on her face. She was happy, and perhaps he was the cause of her happiness. This was a moment he never wanted to end. He would not let her dance with anyone else but him. She was his.

But every dance has to end.

Georgiana felt as though her body was glowing from the top of her head down to her toes. That her first ever dance with a gentleman should be this, with the man she’d known for a some time now that she loved, and with him looking down at her in the way he was, could never be bettered. If only this moment could last forever. If only they could dance away on a cloud to heaven she would be content.

But every dance has to end.

The music stopped and so did they. However, he didn’t release his hold on her. Instead, they stood motionless in the middle of the dance floor, his arm strong around her waist, and the touch of his hand in the middle of her back as though a hot brand had marked her skin. The rest of the dancers, laughing and chattering, milled around them, some of the ladies fanning themselves and moving off for refreshments, the gentlemen searching out their partners for the next dance. That people might be watching them in curiosity didn’t occur to her, and if it had, she wouldn’t have cared.

She never wanted him to let go of her. Could he really be looking down at her out of eyes that seemed to hold love? Was Harriet right? Did he care for her in a way he’d not cared for the other women in his life? Had the dress worked, as Fanny had said it would? Might she be the real woman who would draw him out of the hard shell he’d hidden himself beneath?

“Georgiana!” The spell was broken. Fanny appeared as if from nowhere, her face pink with exertion from the dance and her eyes alight with excitement. “That is the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen, made more beautiful by the woman wearing it. Thank goodness I introduced you to Mrs. Bean. Harriet’s already told me about the fright of a dress her mother got from her own dressmaker. You were lucky you had me to rely on. And Harriet.”

Fitz removed his hand from her back, but didn’t let go of her other hand, as though he wanted to hang onto her as much as she did to him, his fingers slipping between hers in a way they never had before. She tightened her hold in return. She didn’t want him to think this was over. She wanted it never to be over.

“It is lovely,” she managed, her voice a little hoarse.

“Lemonade,” Fitz said, his voice as hoarse as hers. “The dance will have made you thirsty.”

Georgiana shot Fanny a fierce frown as her friend opened her mouth to possibly say she would accompany them and was rewarded by a dawning expression of understanding. Her friend closed her mouth. “I must go and find Mama,” she said, for a moment sounding flustered. “For some ridiculous reason she allowed Horatia to come tonight as a special treat and she’s asked me to help keep an eye on her. As if that’s my job. Sisters.” And she flounced away.

They were alone again, although in truth they were not alone at all as all around them couples were lining up for the next dance—a country dance.

“Lemonade?” Fitz asked again. Less hoarse now.

Georgiana swallowed. They really needed to move or they would be caught up in this next dance. “No…not now. Thank you.” She swallowed again, gathering her courage. “What I would very much like, though, is a little fresh air, as it feels suddenly so very stuffy in here.” Was she really inviting him to take her out onto the terrace away from everyone else? Her boldness shocked her. Then she remembered she was a married woman and there was nothing at all wrong with taking the air with her husband.

It worked. He nodded and she perceived a glint in his dark eyes. “The terrace.” Although she’d once been on a terrace with another gentleman, and look where that had ended. Only it couldn’t this time, because if it did, they were a married couple and it would not be wrong. She pushed thoughts of that other time out of her head.