“You must allow me to be your champion. I would meet him over pistols,” Nick said, nuzzling her temple, though only once and lightly. Very lightly. “I would not raise my hand to him.”
“Why not?” She sank against him easily, as if she’d been waiting for him to make the first overture.
“Murder is frowned upon,” Nick said, thinking it quite the pity in this case. “He’s old and sick, and it wouldn’t be sporting to beat the man with bare fists.” Ladies needed comfort, he told himself, and Leah was very much a lady.
Before he nuzzled her again—or worse—Nick bestirred himself to pose a question to the woman tucked to his side. “What manner of brother is it who allows you to languish here in the dark with me? I want to like the man, but one does wonder.”
“He’s the best of brothers, but he has troubles of his own. He knows if I’m languishing, it’s because I want to.”
“Hmm.” Nick’s fingers insinuated themselves over Leah’s hand. “And what if Hellerington were to appear here?”
“I’d not hesitate to scurry back to the ballroom. I know his coach. I know his scent. I know him. He’s not here.”
“So you can enjoy yourself with me. For this one night.”
“For a single dance,” Leah said. “More than that will call attention.”
“I hear the musicians tuning up,” Nick murmured, closing his eyes the better to feel her beside him. “I must ask for the pleasure. It’s an English waltz, and they are not played often enough.”
Other couples moved past them over on the path, returning to the dance floor.
“I don’t want to go in.”
And didn’t that sentiment just flatter a fellow shamelessly?
“We’ll dance out here,” Nick said, rising and drawing her to her feet. “My lady.” He offered her the required bow, she sank into a curtsy, and Nick led her to the wide terrace that wrapped around one side and the entire back of the ballroom. The area behind the ballroom, however, was only dimly lit and gratifyingly devoid of other people.
He drew her into waltz position then drew her just a hair closer; then, when she didn’t protest or poker up, he drew her flush against his body. She melted against him, resting her cheek against his sternum, and Nick knew a sensation of gratitude so intense it physically warmed the center of his chest.
The music started, a stately triple meter that let them find each other’s balance. Nick kept his steps simple and small, and then gradually relaxed as it became obvious she followed him with ease. On impulse, he folded their joined hands against his chest, and their fingers linked.
To dance with her this way was wicked, scandalous, naughty, and intoxicatingly lovely. When the music ended, Nick kept his arms around her.
“We should go in,” Leah murmured.
“We should,” Nick agreed, his chin resting on the top of her head. He was going to kiss her first though, even though he knew that was a bad idea and not gentlemanly of him. Dancing under the stars could qualify as a shared stolen pleasure; kissing a woman who needed his help…
Her lips brushed against his so lightly he went still, hoping she’d repeat the caress.
Bless you, Nick thought as Leah reached up to wrap a hand around the back of his neck, steadying herself for another sweet, slow sweep across his mouth.
“Lovey.” Nick told himself to open his eyes, not close them. “Lamb, we shouldn’t.”
Another achingly gentle pressure against his lips, and Nick growled, settled his hands on her hips, and resigned himself to having one more thing to regret. For long minutes, he let her explore his features, then—bold wench—his mouth. She wasn’t experienced, he could taste that easily, but she was avid, and increasingly uninhibited as Nick groaned and murmured encouragement when she came up for air.
Something else was coming up too, so Nick eased out of the kiss, resting his forehead on hers while they both caught their breath.
“You are taking advantage of me,” Nick scolded. “I’m out here all unchaperoned and lonely, and you are turning my head.” To his own ears, he sounded the tiniest bit sincere. “I don’t want to let you go,” Nick went on, his tone suggesting real regret, “but this can’t serve either of us.”
“It’s just a kiss,” Leah replied. She sounded as dazed and weak in the knees as Nick felt.
“You are stealing my lines as well as my breath,” Nick muttered. He stepped back, softening the loss by