Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,42

whenever he was around. "May I have this dance?"

"You're the only one I'd want to dance with," I answered honestly.

"Good. Make sure it stays that way."

"No," I countered, "you make sure it stays that way." He chuckled as he led me to the dance floor. "You're holding me a little close, don't you think?" I remarked, not caring but wanting to tease.

"As far as I'm concerned I'm not holding you nearly close enough." He punctuated his statement by drawing me in tighter.

"I see." I took in his dark, hooded gaze as he focused on my lips before clearing his throat and looking away.

After our waltz, I was thrilled to simply sit and talk with Morgan on a settee on the edge of the ballroom. We had the kissing chemistry, but there had to be more, and talking with him reminded me of why we had that physical chemistry.

"Are you enjoying your evening?" Morgan asked.

"Of course, though I must admit to finding it a bit more delightful recently. I can't imagine why." I grinned.

"Nor can I, couldn't be the company." Morgan teased.

"No, it certainly is not the company."

Morgan chuckled at my remark.

"So tell me, have you begun to remember anything? Isn't that what usually takes place once a person has experienced the loss? Slowly what was lost becomes found?"

"Well…" How did I tell him that I was pretty sure I'd never remember any of the past? At least the one he had experienced with me. "So far I'm a clean slate." I answered honestly.

"I'm truly sorry. I must admit to at times forgetting that you don't recall your past. If it helps, you are just as I remember you."

"Thank you, it is wonderful to know that." I paused, curious at his response. "What do you remember of me?" I tilted my head as I asked, searching his expression. To my delight, Morgan flushed slightly and glanced away with a small grin.

"Wouldn't you care to know?" he remarked with a mischievous grin.

"Absolutely, I'm beginning to think it's terribly fascinating."

"Miss Westin… I will confess to watching your début with rapt interest, but the rest of the story… perhaps will have to wait."

"I tend to be horribly impatient."

"Perhaps waiting will fortify that particular virtue."

"I doubt it." I cast him a teasing grin.

"I believe you… you are the impatient sort, and I doubt I'll ever reform that particular trait. And I must confess once more thing, Miss Westin.

"Yes?"

"I'm particularly fond of that vice of yours." He lowered his voice as his gaze dropped to my lips. "Especially your impatience in regard to me."

The heat in my face spoke of a large blush, and I averted my eyes as I remembered initiating our first kiss.

After a while, he excused himself to bring us back some more lemonade. I looked down at my lap and played with my gloves. It still seemed surreal to be living in Regency London, waltzing, dancing and maybe even falling in love.

"Miss Westin, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" said the oily voice of Lord Haymore effectively putting an end to my silent musings. Closing my eyes and swallowing hard to get rid of the gag reflex, I glared at him. Not even for a moment did I try to fake a polite indifference.

"Lord Haymore." I spoke coolly, purposefully not answering his question. My silence bought precious time so I could search for the Dannberry brothers, or Morgan. Anyone, really.

At my hesitation he pulled me up off of the settee with surprising strength and speed. "How nice of you to accept." He grinned, exposing his yellowing teeth.

"I don't remember accepting." I spoke through clenched teeth as I pulled my arm away from his grasping fingers.

"You will," he assured me, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Listen, you—"

"Ah, here you are Miss Westin! So sorry I'm late." The elder Dannberry's voice cut off my improper tirade, which would have surely caused a stir. "So sorry, ol' chap." He patted Lord Haymore's back a little harder than necessary, earning a glare. "Miss Westin promised me this waltz." His expression was innocent, and I could tell Haymore was searching for a reason to doubt the exchange, validating his prior claim.

"Yes!" I spoke up, not giving him a moment to argue. "As I was just telling Lord Haymore, this dance was spoken for by you, Lord Dannberry." As I turned to smile a thank you to my grandfatherly hero, I heard Haymore stomp away, leaving the smell of sour brandy in his wake.

"Thank you." My words