And he did.
What else could he do?
Had he not just said he wished that people would declare what they liked and behave in the way that they truly wanted to?
Much to his amazement, Jack was doing exactly that. It was astounding to him. He knew no one like her. What she felt, she showed. What she thought, she said.
No wonder she had not found a husband.
The instruments of the orchestra hummed, preparing to start a dance, and he wondered what it would be. He took her onto the lantern-lit floor with the other couples.
All were dressed in their various finery, their jewels shining in the light, hoping to catch the notice of those who were important.
The first strains lilted through the air. And there it was again; they seemed cursed.
The notes of a waltz came up.
He gazed down at her. “Are we to ever have this dance?”
“Perhaps. But at least it is not a silly, sugary tune.”
He grinned, unable to stop himself. “Do you dislike sugary things?” he asked.
“I like that which I can sink my teeth into,” she said, lifting her hand and placing it upon his shoulder.
And for one shocking moment, he hungered for her to sink her teeth intohim.
He could only imagine the sensation that would cause. Forcing the rather dramatic image of her mouth on his person, her teeth pressing into his sinew, out of his unruly brain, he held out his other hand for her.
She seemed to catch that he had thought of something inappropriate. Her own eyes widened and her lips parted as she slowly placed her gloved hand into his palm.
“Is something amiss?” she breathed.
“Everything is…just as it should be,” he said softly.“Jack, how did so much time pass between our meetings?”
A sad smile turned her lush lips. “You have been far too busy being a duke,” she said. “You had no time for me.”
He arched a brow, feeling the blow of her statement and cursing himself for a fool. “A great failing, Jack. That is all I can say. I am the one who has been at a loss.”
She gave another small smile. “And yet I am the one who felt it. We were such jolly friends, you know.”
“Then let us be again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the music.
Her eyes brightened, and she gave the slightest of nods, expressing her wish to be his friend again.
As the music began, he swept her closer to him.
The skirts of her pale-blue gown skimmed his boots.
He savored that sensation, the feel of her silks against his thighs. Before he could stop himself, he noted his gloved hand just beneath her bared shoulder blades. He longed to let that hand slip farther down to caress her curved waist, to travel lower still…
He was astounded.
He did not want to feel this way about Jack. She was his friend. She had romped with him through mud, for God’s sake. He was not supposed to look down at her and feel…hunger. The urge to have her, to take her.
She was a lady attempting to find a husband, and to dally with her would be beyond the pale.
The very idea was absurd, and yet he could not deny that when he was with her, he felt not peace, but perfect. He felt as if the world was as it should be.