At Least Once More Read Free Page B

forced to his ears.
    “And do you misbehave often?” His hands tightened, but he resisted the urge to tug her closer and encourage her to misbehave with him. He could well see why this dance was considered dangerous. It definitely tempted him to forget his manners—and her virtue. The scent of lilacs and sunshine beckoned him to bury his nose in her neck, lick the pulse beating beneath the fine skin and taste her flavor.
    “On occasion…” She stared off in the distance while her voice trailed off on a sigh.
    A yearning to erase the pensive air about her, coupled with the desire pounding through his veins, directed his steps toward the open doors leading to the terrace. The cool evening air brushed his cheeks as he continued to twirl her about the empty terrace. It was too early in the evening for people to seek the solace of the outdoors.
    “Whatever are we doing out of doors?” A small smile creased the corner of her eyes.
    Satisfaction relaxed his shoulders. It had been so easy to distract her from whatever dark thoughts she’d had in the ballroom. How easy would it be to convince her to misbehave with him? He inched her closer. He dropped his head so his lips teased her hair. “Giving you occasion to misbehave.”
    She stiffened and returned to the proper distance dictated by the dance. A wrinkle creased her forehead. “I fear we should return to the ballroom—”
    “I’m sorry if I presumed.” Why had he assumed she returned his attraction? He halted their steps.
    She squeezed the hand that still held hers. “It is I who should be sorry—”
    Female voices carried on the night air. When had the music stopped? Duty warred with need, the need to hear Annabelle’s explanation, to spend another moment in her company. But duty dictated he return her to Lady Minerva’s side, and all his life he’d done his duty.
    For once, he’d do something just for him. He spun Annabelle into the shadows of the farthest edges of the veranda, which wrapped slightly around the corner of the house and afforded a cozy corner for heartfelt explanations and illicit behavior.
    “Can you believe she dared to attend? If not for her brother’s money and Lady Minerva’s support, the Markhams would not have condoned it, I’m sure,” one voice said.
    Annabelle stiffened in Gareth’s arms.
    “Did you see poor Lord Thornton’s face when they arrived?” another voice asked. “He must be relieved not to be trapped in marriage to a horse-faced ninny.”
    Annabelle’s thin frame trembled, and he gathered her closer. He didn’t know if her body’s response was caused by the chill in the air or the frost in the voices, but it mattered not. The urge to shield her from both was too great to ignore.
    Gripping the lapels of his jacket, she nestled closer to him until her forearms rested along his torso. Her hips and thighs brushed his. The heat from her body beckoned him closer.
    He bit back a groan as the need to comfort flamed into desire. If she turned her head up but a fraction, he could claim her lips, but he doubted he’d be able to stop there. If he twisted them slightly, he could pin her against the wall, bring her flush against him—
    “Do you think someone should warn His Grace?” yet a third voice inquired.
    He stilled. Warn him about what?
    A titter sounded. “That brute of a man can fend for himself. Besides, they’re related somehow. He is surely only lending his reputation to hers.” The voice dropped. “Not that he has much of a reputation himself. I heard…” The voices trailed off as the women no doubt returned indoors.
    ****
    Related? Confusion dulled the desire coursing through Annabelle’s blood. Had she been having lustful thoughts about a relative? That was an even worse deed than if he was married, which she hadn’t even…She shook her head—better to ask the questions than lose herself in speculation—and shoved from Gareth’s arms.
    For one brief moment, she feared—and hoped—he wouldn’t