Read Online On a Wild Night by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online Page B

held too much vitality. He drew breath, glanced up. “I, my dear, am beyond your ken.”
    She followed his gaze; the hiatus that had held them dissolved. Smoothly, they made the transition to social discourse, stopping to chat with a group they’d met at Lady Hennessy’s.
    Martin was content to stand beside Amanda and let her animation carry the day. She was assured, confident, and quick-witted, glibly turning aside an arch query as to their friendship. The ladies in the group were intrigued; the gentlemen simply enjoyed her company, watching her face, her eyes, listening to her musical laugh.
    He did the same, but with a different intent, trying to see past her facade. He’d felt the tensing of her breathing, the tightening of her fingers on his sleeve during that one, taut moment. He’d tried, again, to warn her; only once he’d uttered the words, heard them, glimpsed—so fleetingly he wasn’t sure he’d seen aright—a steely stubbornness behind her delicate features, had he considered that she might interpret those words differently.
    Might see them as a challenge.
    She was, after all, looking for excitement.
    Watching the flow of expression across her features, through the blue of her eyes, he couldn’t tell what her reaction was. Would be.
    Worse—he was no longer sure how he wanted her to react. Whether he wanted her to run from him, or to him.
    Inwardly, he frowned; the surrounding conversation slid from his mind. Logically, he knew what he wanted. She wasnot for him; he didn’t want to become involved with her. Logically, all was clear.
    Why, then, this sense of confusion?
    A screech from a violin hauled him from his thoughts. Everyone turned, looked, confirmed that a waltz was about to begin. He glanced down, met Amanda’s blue eyes. She arched a brow.
    He gestured to the dance floor. “Shall we?”
    She smiled and gave him her hand. He led her to the floor, determined to find answers to his questions.
    Waltzes at the Corsican Consulate had never conformed to the style approved by the patronesses of Almack’s. Martin drew Amanda into his arms, drew her closer still as couples crowded onto the floor.
    They started to revolve; Amanda looked about them as she struggled to master her breathing, to give no sign of the breathlessness that had assailed her the moment Dexter’s hand had come to rest on her back. It was large, strong—effortlessly he steered her through the throng. But the heat, not just from his hand, burning through silk, but the pervasive heat of his large body so close, a bare inch from hers . . . little wonder that ladies swooned on crowded dance floors.
    Not that she’d ever been in danger of joining their ranks before, and she’d danced on crowded floors aplenty.
    Out of her ken . She focused on those words, on all they promised—all she intended to have. From him. Serve him right. He was as arrogantly superior as her cousins; truth be known, she didn’t mind at all. It would make his conquest all the sweeter.
    She glanced at his face, smiled lightly. “You waltz well, my lord.”
    â€œYou’re an expert, I take it.”
    â€œAfter six years in the ton? Indeed I am.”
    He hesitated; she couldn’t read anything in his changeable green eyes. “You’re not, however, an expert in this arena, as Connor rightly stated.”
    â€œConnor told me I was out of my depth in gaming with such as he, and in that I agree.” She glanced at the dancerssurrounding them. “In other respects, I see little here I would feel challenged managing.”
    When he said nothing, she glanced at his face. He was waiting—he trapped her gaze. “What are you after?”
    You . “I told you. I want to live a little—I want to experience entertainments more exciting than can be found within the ton.” She met his gaze boldly. “As you agreed, that’s no