‘You see? It’s easy.’ He smiled at her. ‘Much easier than you feared.’
And she knew, with a little skip of her heart, that it was not just the waltzing he meant.
It’s all been so, so easy. The lifting of the hex. Her transformation tonight. Putting on this gorgeous costume, being swept away in his arms...
Joy filled her—a wonderful sense of carefree elation as if, simply by whirling her around like this, he had whisked away all that oppressed her.
And for tonight he has! I know that I will have to go home tomorrow, back to all the difficulties and the stress and the fear of losing Haughton. But for tonight I will waltz my cares away.
The music ended with a flourish, and the cessation of the swirling made her head spin instead. But then she was joining with the others in applauding the orchestra, its players in historical costume as well, and their leader was turning and bowing, introducing the next dance they were going to play.
It was a polka, and Ellen’s eyes widened again.
Max didn’t let her speak. ‘Just follow my lead,’ he instructed again.
And once more she did. It was just as well, she thought absently, that she was pretty fit, for the dance was vigorous and not a few couples finished panting. But Max wasn’t the slightest out of breath, and neither was she.
‘Thank goodness for early-morning runs!’ she exclaimed.
‘It’s hot work, this elegant dancing,’ Max agreed, running a finger around his distinctly damp collar.
Ellen smiled. ‘My father used to say that his father, when they went to dances before the war, had to take spare collars with him because they wilted during the night.’
Max laughed. ‘Well, I envy you your bare shoulders and arms, I can tell you. Will it cause a scandal if I shed this very hot evening jacket, I wonder?’
‘You’ll be blackballed instantly!’ she warned him with a laugh.
/> ‘Oh, well, I’m just a foreigner and a parvenu, so I won’t care,’ he riposted, and took her back into his arms as the music started up again.
It was a much slower waltz now, and Ellen was relieved. Or at least she was until she felt Max’s hand tightening at her waist. It was hard to feel much through the whalebone bodice, but there was something in the way he was imprinting his hold on her that made her breath catch despite the slowness of the music. Made it catch again when she saw the expression in his eyes, looking down at her. She felt colour run out into her cheeks. She tried to stop it, tried to hope that he would take it only for heat, no other reason. She tried to pull her gaze away, but it was hopeless...
‘Glad you came to the ball?’ he asked, a faint smile ghosting at his mouth.
His long lashes swept down over his eyes and he smiled at her. Were there gold flecks in those eyes? She could only gaze into their depths, captivated and entranced.
Her lips parted in a wide, joyful smile. ‘Oh, yes! It’s just...wonderful! All of it. Every bit!’
A wicked glint gleamed in Max’s eyes. ‘Even the whalebone in your bodice?’ he asked.
‘OK,’ she allowed. ‘Not that.’
‘Though it does give you the most superb figure,’ he said, and now...oh, most definitely...now there were golden flecks in his eyes.
He pulled a little away from her so his eyes could take in the glory of her narrowed waist, the full roundness of her hips, and then, moving upwards, the generous curvature of her breasts. His gaze lingered...then he dragged them away.
No. The voice inside his head was stern. No, he must not. This evening was about liberating Ellen Mountford from the chains that weighed her down. Freeing her from the mental burdens that blighted her life, made her want to hide herself away in her safe place, her childhood home, where she could moulder away, never emerging into the world.
Well, she was emerging now, all right. Male eyes were all over her. Max had seen that the moment he’d walked into the ballroom. They were on her still, and he didn’t blame them.
Mine are too...
No. The stern voice inside his head came again. No—he must not permit that. This evening was for her, not him! Oh, it was for himself too—of course it was—but only because showing Ellen how wonderful her life could be once she joined the world, instead of hiding herself away at Haughton, would mean that he could acquire what he was set on acquiring. Which was not Ellen Mountford—it was the house she would not willingly sell to him.
But you could have her as well...
The siren thought was in his head, as sinuous and seductive as the slow pulse of the music he was moving to.
Ellen was in his arms, her body so close to his, her weight pressing in on him as they turned, his arm around her waist, her rich ruby mouth smiling up at him. Tempting him...