Page 132 of A Perilous Passion

“Tell me,” he said, “do you as a rule tread on all the other dancers when you waltz?”

She could smell his cologne and feel the kiss of his breath stirring her hair as he spoke.

“Only when offered lewd suggestions by an unforgivable rake,” she returned.

Where his hands touched her, her body felt alive, and she sensed every movement of his muscles beneath her fingertips as he swept her through the steps with absolute precision.

“And is this, perchance, a common occurrence?”

“Wretched man. Of course it isn’t. You did that on purpose.”

“That wasn’t exactly my reason.”

Strength—and supremely masculine confidence—emanated from his every pore.

It was a wonder she wasn’t swooning, or trampling on more toes. Her heart thundered so loud she could barely hear the music.

He whirled her expertly past Mama and Aunt Flora, and she prayed she wasn’t making too much of a spectacle of herself. She mustn’t call too much attention to Rafe—but then, he should have thought about that before speaking to her with such wicked intimacy.

She tossed her head at him, then wasted an extremely superior expression behind the anonymity of her mask. If only she could think of an incisive put-down—anything to remove the smirk from those tempting lips.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking for his reason.

Instead, she said, “Is it not dangerous for you to seek me out so publicly? Or have you now completed your…er…task? Is it now known that Rafe Pomeroy, Earl of Beckport, is amongst us?”

“No. I am still Mr. Seabourne.”

Ah, so he had remained in the area. Why, then, had he not sought her out? After that kiss, she’d rather expected something more.

“Aren’t you afraid of being spotted by my mother?”

“I’d understood you persuaded her to keep silent. I assume you knew me right away, though. Or do you flutter your fan at every gentleman who casts an eye in your direction?”

Bother. She had been observing him since he claimed his dance. How irksome of him to notice.

“I was unaware I was fluttering my fan,” she said. “It wasn’t intentional, or aimed at you. I was probably swatting a fly.”

He threw back his head and made a muffled sound behind his mask. She couldn’t help but smile. His fingers pressed her waist, and he pulled her even closer, making it hard to breathe.

Unbidden, her mind strayed back to the sensual dream she’d had—except, this time, instead of Justin it was Rafe pressing his naked body against hers.

The music had to end soon. His touch was exquisite torture.

“Come outside with me afterward,” he whispered.

“I cannot.”

“Are you afraid of me?” The dark eyes behind the mask glittered at her.

“Not at all. My only fear is for my reputation. I have it on good authority that you’re a rake.”

“Not anymore. And don’t forget you already risked your reputation with that ill-advised elopement.”

“That was a mistake. For which I’ve been duly punished.”

“So you will never sin again?”

The way he said “sin” made her quiver with yearning. “I did not sin! Not the way you mean it.”