Read Online A Private Duel with Agent Gunn (The Gentlemen of Scotland Yard) by Jillian Stone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jillian Stone
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recover the estate’s jewelry, she needed Finn.
Only this time, her encounter with Agent Gunn would remain all business. She needed his knowledge of gems and his entrée to the beau monde. Cate suspected she didn’t have much time left. Very soon, Los Tigres would expect their share of the profits.
Abruptly, Didelot tapped his baton on the piano andthe corps executed le révérence, a dancer’s curtsy to show respect to the teacher and pianist.
Class dismissed.
While Cate waited for Mérante, she practiced solo parts of the pas de deux . Eight hops backward en pointe, into an arabesque with a drawn-out balance. Then on to a series of piqués, fouettés, and grand jeté.
She landed with all the grace of an elephant. Badly done.
“Again—from the beginning of the movement, if you would, Mr. Skym?” Cate took up a position to side of the stage and waited for the piano’s cue. She repeated the same combination of steps. This time she landed the jeté perfectly.
The hollow sound of one person clapping came from the seats in the front of the theatre. “Bravo, Catriona.”
She stepped closer to the footlights. Of course it would be him. A flutter of beats leaped in her chest. She placed both hands on her hips. “What are you doing here?”
He removed his frock coat and loosened his cravat. Nervously, she adjusted her cramped toes by waggling her pointe shoe back and forth on the stage floor. He was up the steps and onto the stage before she could utter much of a protest.
“It appears you are in need of a partner.” He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.
Unsure if she should smile or frown, Cate pressed her lips together. “You realize lifts require a great deal of strength.”
He raised one of those supercilious eyebrows of his.
Over six feet of pulsing sinewy muscle stood in front of her with his arms open. She sighed or huffed. “Dancersstudy for years to execute the lifts in this adagio. It would not be safe—” Her eyes darted about. “Male dancers touch very intimate places.”
The bare semblance of a smile played at the edges of his mouth. She cringed, waiting for a crude reference to the private places he’d so expertly stroked and caressed.
“I shall do my best to control myself.” His voice was huskier than usual.
She studied him a moment. “Yes, you are always very much in control.”
“Until I’m not.” He moved closer. “We’ll work until your partner arrives. Start with something basic—elementary.” He tilted his head and taunted her. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, Cate?”
She bit her lip and edged closer. “Very well. Perhaps the simplest way to move into the lift is for the ballerina to step into arabesque in front of her partner.”
Cate assumed the position and lifted her leg behind her, waist high. “Place one hand on my waist and the other beneath the thigh of my working leg.”
Finn slipped his hand around her waist and then hesitated. “Where exactly would you like the other?”
“Reach under my skirt.” Cate bit her lip to hide her amusement. “This way you will have a better grip and you won’t ruin the drape of skirt.”
His hand traveled gently up the inside of her thigh. A tingle shot up her leg and rippled through her body. “That’s high enough.” Cate shifted her weight to remain in balance. Instinctively, he steadied her.
“We shall try a piqué de poissons —fish dive. Lift me off the ground—not too high. Once my head is above yours, dip me quickly toward the ground and hold.”
Their first attempt was far from graceful.
Hands on her hips, Cate walked off a muscle twinge. “From the lower position, you lift me up—as if you snatch me from the arms of death. Then you must dip me as though I am falling from your grasp—in a graceful swoop.”
“Graceful swoop.” Finn nodded. “Is there a French term for that?” His grin caused her to shift her eyes away.
Cate stepped closer. “I must keep all my muscles strong and
Only this time, her encounter with Agent Gunn would remain all business. She needed his knowledge of gems and his entrée to the beau monde. Cate suspected she didn’t have much time left. Very soon, Los Tigres would expect their share of the profits.
Abruptly, Didelot tapped his baton on the piano andthe corps executed le révérence, a dancer’s curtsy to show respect to the teacher and pianist.
Class dismissed.
While Cate waited for Mérante, she practiced solo parts of the pas de deux . Eight hops backward en pointe, into an arabesque with a drawn-out balance. Then on to a series of piqués, fouettés, and grand jeté.
She landed with all the grace of an elephant. Badly done.
“Again—from the beginning of the movement, if you would, Mr. Skym?” Cate took up a position to side of the stage and waited for the piano’s cue. She repeated the same combination of steps. This time she landed the jeté perfectly.
The hollow sound of one person clapping came from the seats in the front of the theatre. “Bravo, Catriona.”
She stepped closer to the footlights. Of course it would be him. A flutter of beats leaped in her chest. She placed both hands on her hips. “What are you doing here?”
He removed his frock coat and loosened his cravat. Nervously, she adjusted her cramped toes by waggling her pointe shoe back and forth on the stage floor. He was up the steps and onto the stage before she could utter much of a protest.
“It appears you are in need of a partner.” He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.
Unsure if she should smile or frown, Cate pressed her lips together. “You realize lifts require a great deal of strength.”
He raised one of those supercilious eyebrows of his.
Over six feet of pulsing sinewy muscle stood in front of her with his arms open. She sighed or huffed. “Dancersstudy for years to execute the lifts in this adagio. It would not be safe—” Her eyes darted about. “Male dancers touch very intimate places.”
The bare semblance of a smile played at the edges of his mouth. She cringed, waiting for a crude reference to the private places he’d so expertly stroked and caressed.
“I shall do my best to control myself.” His voice was huskier than usual.
She studied him a moment. “Yes, you are always very much in control.”
“Until I’m not.” He moved closer. “We’ll work until your partner arrives. Start with something basic—elementary.” He tilted his head and taunted her. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, Cate?”
She bit her lip and edged closer. “Very well. Perhaps the simplest way to move into the lift is for the ballerina to step into arabesque in front of her partner.”
Cate assumed the position and lifted her leg behind her, waist high. “Place one hand on my waist and the other beneath the thigh of my working leg.”
Finn slipped his hand around her waist and then hesitated. “Where exactly would you like the other?”
“Reach under my skirt.” Cate bit her lip to hide her amusement. “This way you will have a better grip and you won’t ruin the drape of skirt.”
His hand traveled gently up the inside of her thigh. A tingle shot up her leg and rippled through her body. “That’s high enough.” Cate shifted her weight to remain in balance. Instinctively, he steadied her.
“We shall try a piqué de poissons —fish dive. Lift me off the ground—not too high. Once my head is above yours, dip me quickly toward the ground and hold.”
Their first attempt was far from graceful.
Hands on her hips, Cate walked off a muscle twinge. “From the lower position, you lift me up—as if you snatch me from the arms of death. Then you must dip me as though I am falling from your grasp—in a graceful swoop.”
“Graceful swoop.” Finn nodded. “Is there a French term for that?” His grin caused her to shift her eyes away.
Cate stepped closer. “I must keep all my muscles strong and
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