a blacksmith? Were pirates known for their strength? She rather thought it was just agility, but perhaps—
“Is there something the matter with your glove?”
She jerked her gaze up, a little bewildered to find they’d already reached the dance floor. “Beg your pardon?”
“You’ve been staring at your glove for the last thirty seconds. Is there something the matter with it?”
She hadn’t been staring at her glove, she’d been staring at him, but she had no intention of correcting his mistake. “No, I…No, nothing the matter.”
“Shall we dance, then?”
“Certainly.” She cleared her throat and carefully placed one of her hands in his and the other on his shoulder. A shoulder, she couldn’t help but note, that was also considerably muscled.
Mr. Hunter slid his free hand around her waist to rest at her back. She had only a moment to wonder why such a light touch should feel so significant before he swept her onto the dance floor.
Kate immediately applied herself to not thinking about her waltzing partner’s physique, an effort that might have met with more success had she been doing most anything besides waltzing. Waltzing required touching, an obvious impediment to her goal. Furthermore, dancing was one of the very few activities where she was able to exhibit a respectable amount of grace with very little effort. As long as the music maintained a consistent tempo, it was simple, almost instinctual, for her body to move in time. In short, the task provided no distraction whatsoever from thoughts of Mr. Hunter’s unusually muscled form.
Thoughts she was going to stop having, immediately.
“A penny for your thoughts, Lady Kate.”
Had dancing not come so naturally to her, she very likely would have tripped upon hearing that question. Not for all the pennies in the world would she tell him where her mind had been.
“I, er, I was thinking you’re a very fine dancer.” It was entirely possible that thought had flitted through her head at some point. It was even true—for a large man, he displayed a surprising amount of grace.
She waited, expecting him to deliver a compliment of his own. Gentlemen usually commented on her dancing skills. She suspected they did so in part to be polite, but mostly because they were stunned to find she wasn’t trodding on their toes.
In retrospect, she should have known Mr. Hunter would not do what she expected. Instead of returning the compliment, or thanking her for the one he’d received—as she rather felt he ought—he subtly bent his head, lowering it just enough for her to see the taunt in his dark eyes, and the humor.
“Liar,” he whispered.
The tickle of laughter returned. “If you don’t keep the proper distance, there will be more lies circulating about this ballroom than you find amusing. People are watching, you know.”
“You’re the sister of a wealthy earl and the daughter of an influential countess. People are always watching you,” he returned, lifting his head and neatly sweeping her into another turn. “Tell me, do you find it disconcerting to have so many following your every move?”
It wasn’t so very many, in her opinion. And she was quite certain her “every move” was a considerable exaggeration—he was the only person she felt looked at her too often and with too great an intensity—but since she was determined not to display any ruffled feathers, she let both matters go.
“I do sometimes wonder what people are thinking while they watch others dance,” she told him.
He tipped his chin toward two austere-looking matrons whispering behind their hands at the edge of the dance floor. “Just now, I imagine the majority of them are wondering why you’re dancing with an upstart and known rake.”
“Are you a rake?” she asked before she could think better of it. She might have asked even if she had thought better of it. She’d heard rumors that Mr. Hunter had seduced legions of widows and opera singers, but what was fact and what was…well, rumor, it was impossible to say. It was equally impossible to say why she cared, except perhaps that she was a bit more curious about the man than she realized.
He carefully led her around an elderly couple exiting the dance early. “Would my being a rake make me more appealing in your eyes?”
“No, it would simply make you a rake.” She studied him for a moment as he laughed. “Do you know, I don’t believe you are.”
“Oh?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never once heard a rumor of you seducing an innocent young lady.”
“That merely suggests I’m not a