“What about Paul?” he asked, as much to remind himself what she had at stake as to stir her conscience.
That delicate jaw firmed into a stubborn line. “Paul takes me too much for granted.”
Ah, now he understood. While she might want Giles, this invitation wasn’t about him, but about Paul. “So I’m a means to an end?”
“Do you mind?”
He damn well should. He was proud to a fault. As an orphan flung into a ruthless and alien environment, pride had helped him survive. Before answering, he examined his feelings. He should send her away with a flea in her ear and a strict warning about gambling with her reputation.
He should.
Giles spoke slowly. “You know, I’m not sure I do.”
Satisfaction glowed in her blue eyes. “So you’ll kiss me?”
“Not now.”
“Tomorrow?”
In the long run, he’d suffer for this agreement. But how the devil could he resist her? “I’ll meet you in the stables at dawn.”
“Good.” She didn’t retreat, although she’d got her way. “Now come back to the hall and dance with me.”
He couldn’t help smiling. Dear God, she’d been created to torment him. “You’re a demanding wench.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a no.”
She raised her arms. “Then dance with me here.”
“There’s no music.”
“I’ll hum.”
“Serena…” he said helplessly, although he took her hand and slipped his arm around her supple waist.
“A waltz?”
Self-mockery edged his laugh. “What else?”
When Serena sang, he found the husky catch in each note ineffably moving. As his feet found the rhythm, they moved in perfect time.
He thought he’d been smart to evade another kiss, but this dance proved just as perilous. Especially now he knew how it felt to hold her even closer. He drew her near and tucked her head under his chin. Her flowery scent fed his senses.
“Should you hold me so tight?” she whispered.
“Probably not.”
“I like it.”
With no music, they faltered to a stop. He rubbed his chin on the soft hair at her crown. “I’m beginning to think that you like a lot of things that aren’t good for you.”
“Aren’t you good for me?” she murmured, and her hand slid along his shoulder to curl around his neck.
Desire surged, hot and invincible. He swallowed to moisten a dry mouth and told himself to push her away.
He didn’t.