Read Online Kathryn Smith by For the First Time - Free Book Online

whenever she waltzed, she always tried to lead! This was going to be humiliating at the very least. The wise thing to do would be to beg off.
    “All right,” she heard herself agree. She even smiled. “I will dance with you.”
    He looked pleased—so pleased that a shiver of pleasure raced down Blythe’s spine. Perhaps—just for a moment—she would let herself believe that he had been nervous about asking her, that for a moment she was a beautiful, desirable woman whom this man wanted to hold in his arms.
    But only for a moment. Such thoughts were dangerous, as she well knew. They often led to thinking a gentleman’s feelings ran deeper than they did, and Blythe had promised herself never to make that mistake again. It simply hurt too much to find out she was wrong.
    As luck would have it, the opening strains of the first waltz of the evening started at just that instant, eliminating the need for Blythe to think of something charming and witty to say.
    Devlin offered her his hand. She hesitated only a fraction of a second before placing her pale gold glove in the starkwhite of his. Even his hand made hers look smaller—delicate almost.
    Oh yes, these were dangerous thoughts indeed.
    Out into the middle of the floor he led her. Was it her imagination, or did the chandeliers somehow seem less bright? Conversations dropped to dim murmurs as the music swelled until there was nothing but the orchestra and the two of them.
    Devlin’s free hand came up to her waist and slid around to her back. Gooseflesh dotted Blythe’s skin as she fought a shiver at the warmth of his touch. Reaching up—so wondrously far it seemed!—she placed her right hand on his shoulder. She was right about the lack of padding in his coat. All she felt was the unyielding firmness of bone and muscle beneath her palm.
    And then he began to move. She followed easily. His steps were so sure, his hold on her so confident and firm that her natural instinct to lead never had a chance to rear its head and embarrass her. He was in control, and there wasn’t an inch of her that minded.
    They weren’t the most graceful of couples. Looking around, Blythe realized that honor had to go to Carny and Teresa, who danced together as though carried by clouds. Strangely enough, she didn’t care. She had never felt this graceful, this right dancing with anyone before, not even Carny.
    For once she didn’t have to watch the length of her strides. She didn’t have to affect tiny ladylike steps. Devlin’s legs were long—even longer than her own—and he made bold, sweeping circles that she followed with ease. He also held her closer than society deemed proper.
    Secretly, Blythe liked the way he held her. Liked the occasional brush of his leg against hers. Liked that all she had to do was tilt her chin up and she could study the tiny lines fanning out from his eyes, smell the bay rum he used—wonder what it might be like to press her lips to his.
    He met her gaze with a quizzical smile. “What?”
    She shrugged. “I am simply enjoying myself.”
    “You should enjoy yourself more often. It becomes you.”
    It wasn’t much as compliments went—not when Carny had once compared her eyes to pale emeralds—but it hit home all the same. There were no false comparisons, no flowery odes, just the simple admission that she looked nice when happy.
    “I usually have to shorten my steps,” she admitted.
    Devlin’s smile grew. “I can lengthen mine if you like.”
    Blythe shook her head. “People would stare.”
    Something in his expression changed. His smile faded but his eyes lit with a bright, inner light. It was an intimate gaze—one that caught her breath in her throat. “You deserve to be stared at.”
    Oh Lord, she was blushing again! How did he do that? How could he take something that had always been an embarrassment, had always bothered her, and turn it into a positive thing? He made it sound as though people stared at her because they admired her face