LITMIR.BIZ

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I have the honour of this waltz?”

      “You are a fool,” she answered.

      “Perhaps.”

      Oh, she had feelings for him. They consumed her when he smiled.

      She accepted his hand, and he drew her away from the refreshment table, then lifted their joined hands and formed the hold of the dance as his other hand came about her. When he spun her out onto the floor, she was not aware of anyone else—it was only Rob in the room.

      His hand and his fingers, at her back, steered her through the steps.

      She’d always loved to dance. Then why had she not done so for years?

      Because it was self-punishment, for failing her husband so terribly. But surely she’d done enough penance for the loss of her children. Perhaps now, Rob was right, she might let herself live again.

      Guilt cut at her. Yet she could still love and mourn her lost children and not hide or deprive herself of the basic elements of life—dancing. She was dancing.

      She looked into Rob’s eyes and forgot about anything except the music, the touch of his hands and the look in his eyes.

      He did not speak, and she was glad he did not because it would have broken the magic. She was building new glass walls, ones about a palace in the sky. She smiled as the music skipped through her soul. It was a wonderful feeling; she had always loved dancing.

      She was breathless when it came to an end, and stupidly disappointed as Rob walked her to the edge of the room, where they met Mary and Drew.

      “Caro…” Drew said with emotion. “Will you dance the next with me? I shall willing make a cake of myself no matter what the dance is, if only to see you smile like that again.”

      She actually laughed at him, the fear and the panic were not there; her restraints had gone.

      After she’d danced with Drew, the physician who’d treated Mary through two pregnancies asked Caro to dance. Rob and Drew looked at her meaningfully, willing her to accept. Caro knew him, she had drunk tea with him at the house. She smiled and accepted his hand, though hers trembled, but as they danced her nerves eased. It was a fast, jolly dance and she glanced at Rob often. He was dancing with Mary, but he kept glancing over and smiling at her too. He had given her the courage to achieve this.

      She was returned to Drew’s side, flushed and smiling. He stood beside a man she did not know. “Caroline, this is Mr Slade, he rents one of my farms. Mr Slade, this is my sister, Lady Framlington.”

      The farmer bowed. “Would you care to dance with me, ma’am?”

      Caro’s skin heated by a degree. Had he come to wait with Drew so he might ask? But it was merely a dance, it was what people did—she had forgotten so much of life.

      “Indeed.” She offered her hand.

      It became the pattern of the evening. She did not sit down. Each time a dance ended, another gentleman was introduced to her, and she danced with her brother and with Rob again too.

      When they travelled home in Drew’s carriage, it was two in the morning, and she was tired and quiet, as a melee of emotions fought within her chest. But happiness was the first, that and hope, pride and wonder. But perhaps the pride was not for herself, yet for Rob. He had given her the courage; she would not have found it without him.

      She was wonderfully, physically exhausted, yet she did not think she would be capable of sleep.

      She looked from the dark landscape outside the window to Mary and Drew. Drew smiled at her, a gleeful smile, his hand clasping Mary’s, and drawing it onto his thigh.

      He shook his head at her a little, as if in wonder. She had surprised him, but she had surprised herself.

      She looked at Rob. He was sitting beside her, staring out of the window. She wished to hold his hand, but the gesture would be inappropriate. Even more, though, she wished to lean against his shoulder.

      She wondered what he was thinking, if the memory of their kiss was still a gentle heat in his blood as it was in hers.

      “It was a wonderful evening,” Mary said.

      They all looked at her. “It was, indeed,” Drew agreed, and he usually hated such affairs.

      Caro said nothing. She felt as if words might break her new glass castle in the air.

      ~

      Rob leant back against the squabs in the carriage and returned his gaze to the outside, watching clouds cast their shadows across the moonlit fields. He was intensely aware of the heat radiating from Caro’s thigh, so close to his.

      They had shared a kiss…

      He’d not danced with anyone other than Caro and Mary; he’d not liked to in case Caro had needed him. But that had meant he’d had an entire evening to watch her. He’d become a little addicted.

      Weeks ago his uncle had asked him what his weakness was. Perhaps his weakness was Caro. All night his thoughts had hovered on the feel of her mouth.

      When they reached home, Drew handed Mary and Caro down, and Caro held Drew’s arm when they walked up to the first floor.

      Rob walked behind them, speaking with Mary.

      “I shall retire immediately, if you do not mind?” Caro said to them all.

      “I will too,” Mary agreed.

      “Then I shall retire as well,” Drew stated.

      “Goodnight, then,” Rob responded, he was not tired. He would be unable to sleep. He kissed Mary’s cheek as Caro climbed the stairs, and nodded at Drew before they turned to their rooms.

      He looked at a footman. “I shall go to the library. You may retire.” He picked up a candelabra and took it with him as he walked back downstairs.

      In the library he stripped off his coat and his waistcoat and set them over the back of a chair, then pulled off his cravat and poured himself a glass of whiskey before occupying an armchair.

      He shut his eyes and let his head fall back.

      What had he done? Kissed her…

       Bastard.

      His blood hummed. Even now, the thought of that kiss made his groin heavy. He was thirsty, but not for the liquor, or any other liquid. It was a thirst to learn more, to find out how things might feel with Caro. He had always had morals. Always.

      But God! I am tempted.

      Would she be horrified if she knew what he thought?

      He lifted his head and opened his eyes, then sipped the whiskey, seeking to regain the reins on his feelings. He’d never found it hard before; he’d never even been tempted. He’d been kissed by the barmaids, but no more. Their brash attitude had never appealed to him, and unlike Harry he’d never sought sexual experiences as trophies of his manhood.

      But Caro had not kissed him out of the need those women felt, or for any other reason than their lips had come together. It had merely been a response to a friendship and closeness, which had been weaving about them for weeks. He’d asked for friendship, and he’d called her a friend, but he had known for days that it was becoming more than that. He did not feel a softness in his chest, or a tightness in his gut when he was with his friends.

      When they’d waltzed he’d felt the muscle in Caro’s back shifting with her movements and her smaller hand in his with a sense of awe.

      The door swung open. He looked up. All of the servants ought to be in bed.

      It was his phantom. Caro. An apparition in a silk robe that was a deep red. Her blonde hair was plaited and hung across one shoulder. But there were wisps of golden curls left about her face. They gave her a halo.

      His gaze dropped to her toes, which peeked from beneath the hem of her white nightdress, that hung lower

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