Read Online Kathryn Smith by For the First Time - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: For the First Time
Ads: Link
and figure, not that they saw her as an oddity, a woman to be pitied.
Before she could think of a reply, or even mumble an inane thank-you, he did just what he threatened to do. He lengthened his strides, forcing her to lengthen her own to keep from stumbling. Soon they were sailing around the floor with great, wide, sweeping arcs. The couples around them became a blur as Blythe focused on the sparkle in his eyes.
He should enjoy himself more often. It became him.
So fast he whirled her around that once, Blythe imagined he had literally swept her off her feet. He was certainly holding her close enough to do it—she could feel the buttons of his coat through the thin fabric of her gown—but it was impossible. Surely she was too heavy for him to pick up with one arm—oh! He did it again. How did he make her feel so weightless?
Breathless from keeping pace with him, flushed from the sheer joy and exertion of the exercise, Blythe threw back her head and laughed out loud, ignorant of whatever glances came their way. She didn’t care who stared. Didn’t care who might whisper about them later. Right now she was having fun, more fun than she had experienced in years. Anybody who didn’t like it was welcome to look the other way and be damned.
Too soon the music ended. Blythe’s stop was less graceful than Devlin’s. Her feet tangled in her skirts, and she stumbled into the solid wall of his chest. For a moment, she could feel his breath warm against her temple. For a moment, he held her flush against him, closer than any man had ever held her before. So close that she could feel not just his buttons, but every inch of his body against hers.
Oh God.
Then he stepped back, once more putting a respectable distance between them.
Strangely bereft, Blythe managed a smile. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Ryland. It was very…exhilarating.”
Devlin bowed. “My pleasure. Until our next dance.” And then he did something totally unexpected. He kissed her hand, and not on the knuckles like most gentlemen. He turned it over and kissed her palm, where her glove was warm and moist from gripping his shoulder. It was an incredibly erotic feeling, his lips against her palm—even if there was a layer of silk between them. The pressure of his lips, however brief, warmed her even further. Who would have known that warm and damp could be so pleasant?
Apparently Devlin Ryland had, if the appreciation in his gaze was any indication.
Murmuring a soft farewell, she watched him walk away from her original position outside the circle of dancers, where he had guided her. Could it be possible that Devlin Ryland, a national hero, found her appealing?
Well, what was so surprising about that, if he did? Whileshe wasn’t the most beautiful woman in England, she knew she wasn’t without a certain comeliness. After all, Carny had found her pretty once. Why couldn’t Devlin?
She gave her thoughts a mental tug on the reins. Finding her attractive and falling in love with her were two entirely different things. It was fine to think that perhaps Devlin was drawn to her, but beyond that she could not—would not—imagine. She would develop a sense of caution about men if it was the last thing she did. Never again would she assume a man’s feelings matched her own.
And just what were her own? She hardly knew Devlin well enough to fancy herself in love. She liked him, that much was for sure, and she liked the feel of his arms around her and his body against hers. That merely made her wanton, not lovelorn. She would have to be careful and on her guard. Devlin Ryland was the kind of man she could actually imagine going to when those “urges” came upon her. She’d wager he’d not only stop the ache, but fill the emptiness inside her as well.
All of this after only a few days’acquaintance. Good Lord, what state would she be in by the time the house party finally ended?
Heated not only by her dance with Devlin, but by the direction of her
Before she could think of a reply, or even mumble an inane thank-you, he did just what he threatened to do. He lengthened his strides, forcing her to lengthen her own to keep from stumbling. Soon they were sailing around the floor with great, wide, sweeping arcs. The couples around them became a blur as Blythe focused on the sparkle in his eyes.
He should enjoy himself more often. It became him.
So fast he whirled her around that once, Blythe imagined he had literally swept her off her feet. He was certainly holding her close enough to do it—she could feel the buttons of his coat through the thin fabric of her gown—but it was impossible. Surely she was too heavy for him to pick up with one arm—oh! He did it again. How did he make her feel so weightless?
Breathless from keeping pace with him, flushed from the sheer joy and exertion of the exercise, Blythe threw back her head and laughed out loud, ignorant of whatever glances came their way. She didn’t care who stared. Didn’t care who might whisper about them later. Right now she was having fun, more fun than she had experienced in years. Anybody who didn’t like it was welcome to look the other way and be damned.
Too soon the music ended. Blythe’s stop was less graceful than Devlin’s. Her feet tangled in her skirts, and she stumbled into the solid wall of his chest. For a moment, she could feel his breath warm against her temple. For a moment, he held her flush against him, closer than any man had ever held her before. So close that she could feel not just his buttons, but every inch of his body against hers.
Oh God.
Then he stepped back, once more putting a respectable distance between them.
Strangely bereft, Blythe managed a smile. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Ryland. It was very…exhilarating.”
Devlin bowed. “My pleasure. Until our next dance.” And then he did something totally unexpected. He kissed her hand, and not on the knuckles like most gentlemen. He turned it over and kissed her palm, where her glove was warm and moist from gripping his shoulder. It was an incredibly erotic feeling, his lips against her palm—even if there was a layer of silk between them. The pressure of his lips, however brief, warmed her even further. Who would have known that warm and damp could be so pleasant?
Apparently Devlin Ryland had, if the appreciation in his gaze was any indication.
Murmuring a soft farewell, she watched him walk away from her original position outside the circle of dancers, where he had guided her. Could it be possible that Devlin Ryland, a national hero, found her appealing?
Well, what was so surprising about that, if he did? Whileshe wasn’t the most beautiful woman in England, she knew she wasn’t without a certain comeliness. After all, Carny had found her pretty once. Why couldn’t Devlin?
She gave her thoughts a mental tug on the reins. Finding her attractive and falling in love with her were two entirely different things. It was fine to think that perhaps Devlin was drawn to her, but beyond that she could not—would not—imagine. She would develop a sense of caution about men if it was the last thing she did. Never again would she assume a man’s feelings matched her own.
And just what were her own? She hardly knew Devlin well enough to fancy herself in love. She liked him, that much was for sure, and she liked the feel of his arms around her and his body against hers. That merely made her wanton, not lovelorn. She would have to be careful and on her guard. Devlin Ryland was the kind of man she could actually imagine going to when those “urges” came upon her. She’d wager he’d not only stop the ache, but fill the emptiness inside her as well.
All of this after only a few days’acquaintance. Good Lord, what state would she be in by the time the house party finally ended?
Heated not only by her dance with Devlin, but by the direction of her
Similar Books
