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      ‘So she is, Miss Stockton.’

      Emma felt her temper sizzle, intensifying the warmth spreading across her cheeks. ‘Then you had best be on your way.’

      ‘I thought I might linger here.’ He indicated the empty spot by her.

      The breath caught in her throat, and she forced herself to speak coldly. ‘I think you would be very bored, Mr Hawthorne.’

      ‘I think not.’

      Without further leave, he sat beside her. His thigh barely brushed hers, bringing back the uncomfortable awareness of him that made her chest tight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Emma tensed to rise but his hand clamped on her forearm. She paused.

      ‘Do you want to give the gossips more ammunition?’ he murmured.

      She glanced around to see many eyes on them. She sank back down and muttered, ‘How dare you put me in this position. It is bad enough that you do this with Amy. It is a shame you insist on including me in this mockery.’

      He quirked one eyebrow. ‘Why do you think this is a mockery?’

      ‘Isn’t it?’

      He didn’t speak for long moments, his gaze meeting hers. ‘I don’t believe so.’

      She told herself her heart wasn’t lodged in her throat. A warm glow started in her stomach and spread out. ‘Well, I do. I told you no earlier, and you are not a man who likes to be told no. I believe you are amusing yourself at my expense and I want this to stop.’

      ‘Then dance with me and I will leave afterwards.’

      ‘Absolutely not.’ Particularly as she recognised the music the orchestra was starting to play. A waltz.

      He shrugged. ‘Then I will go and ask Miss Amy.’

      Emma blanched, knowing her sister would accept to spite her and to accomplish a coup that would make her the envy of all the other silly young chits. A waltz with Charles Hawthorne.

      Emma felt like she had been outmaneuvered, and she knew she was outgunned. ‘Surely you jest. It is my sister you are interested in.’

      For a fleeting moment she thought he looked disgusted, but it was over so quickly she decided she had imagined it. He looked his usual arrogant, confident and mocking self.

      ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘I am no fool.’ But she began to fear she was. She wanted this dance he had maneuvered her into. Wanted it badly. ‘But you have forced me to accept.’

      He stood and extended his gloved hand. She dropped her gaze, unwilling to see him study her as she put her fingers into his.

      Gloves separated their flesh, yet Emma felt like his warm skin touched hers. This was crazy, she thought, sucking in a deep breath and looking up at him, determined to act as though this dance was the last thing she wanted.

      His dark eyes held hers. Was there a question in his? Did he wonder what she thought?

      She notched her chin higher and turned to the floor. He led her out. She turned to face him, his strong jaw at eye level for her. He had a dark shadow on his cheeks that gave him a reckless air he didn’t need. He was already overpoweringly attractive.

      The scents of musk and male wafted over her, mingling with the smell of burning wax from the hundreds of candles. Dimly she sensed other people moving around. The sound of the orchestra was muted. It was as though she stood in a room with only this man. Everything else might be in her imagination.

      His right arm circled her waist and held her firmly in place a foot from him. The regulation distance. Anything closer would be considered scandalous.

      Her mind told her they were adequately separated. Her senses told her he pressed her to his chest. It seemed she felt his heart beating against hers and his warmth enveloping her.

      He moved and his hand guided her to move with him. She felt melded to him, as though they had danced like this before. Blood pounded through her body.

      ‘Are you feeling well?’

      His deep voice flowed over her and twined around her. All her aversion to him seemed to have gone up in smoke the instant he touched her. No wonder Amy made a scandal of herself for this man. And how could she blame her when she, an older woman who had once been engaged to this man’s brother, was now following him in a dance that mimicked things done between a man and a woman in dark places?

      Emma shook her head. ‘Well? I am as well as can be expected when coerced into a dance I did not want.’

      ‘Are you so sure of that?’ He gave her a knowing look that seemed to see through to her racing heart.

      ‘You gave me no choice.’

      He swung her in a circle, forcing the breath from her lungs. If not for the firm hold he had of her waist, she would have stumbled.

      ‘Liar.’

      She dragged in air. ‘I am not. You threatened to ask Amy if I did not agree.’

      ‘I gave you a choice.’

      ‘A very poor one.’

      They moved rapidly around the room, circling and circling, skirting other couples. His arms never faltered, supporting her strongly and her body felt safe to follow his lead—wherever that might go.

      ‘But a choice.’ He finished the discussion, his tone brooking no more argument.

      Her hackles rose. ‘A poor choice is no choice at all. I know that too well.’

      His mouth thinned and she thought he would say something, but the music stopped. They stopped with it. She stepped from his embrace and tried to pull her hand free from his. He held tight.

      ‘Let me go.’

      His mouth curved into a smile that held no humour as he brought her fingers to his lips. Even through the gloves she felt the firm softness of his kiss. An arc of fire coursed its way up her arm. Her determination floundered.

      He released her and bowed. ‘Thank you, Miss Stockton, for a very informative dance.’

      She stared at him, the heat still coursing through her. ‘Informative?’

      He turned away as though he didn’t hear her. She stepped toward him, wanting to twirl him around and demand what he thought he was doing, toying with her as though she was a plaything. Instead she pivoted on her heel and moved in the opposite direction from him.

      Somewhere in this room was the settee she had taken refuge on earlier. She reached it seconds before Amy descended on her.

      ‘What do you think you were doing?’ Amy said, her voice a whispered screech. ‘I thought he was a disreputable rake that no respectable woman should associate with. Yet, you waltzed with him.’

      Emma’s fingers still tingled from his touch. Now they shook with irritation. ‘He is everything I always say he is, but he gave me no option.’ She steeled her voice. ‘And I am old enough to do as I please.’

      ‘So, you like him.’ Amy’s blue eyes were grey with anger. ‘That is why you tell me to stay away from him. Because you want him.’

      Emma’s raw nerves snapped. ‘Don’t be a ninnyhammer, Amy. It is bad enough that you are flighty.’

      Amy’s rosebud red mouth formed a perfect O. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘How could you, Em? First you dance with the man I am attracted to, and then you insult me so.’

      Emma’s head began to pound. This was getting out of hand. She rose. ‘I think it is time we left.’

      Amy stepped back. ‘No. I have promised Mr Kennilworth a dance. I shan’t shirk my duty.’

      Sharp words about Amy’s frequent failure to honour her word hung on Emma’s tongue but she bit them back. Things

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