Read Online The Perfect Waltz by Anne Gracíe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne Gracíe
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danced on, all the time sheltering Hope in the curve of his arm as if she was the most precious thing alive.
Defending her, he’d lost all awkwardness and self-consciousness, and his power and strength had flowed around her in a protective shield.
It had quite taken her breath away. And for a few moments she’d forgotten where she was.
She’d never met anyone like him. He was such a collection of contradictions. Public self-possession and private shyness. Physical strength tempered with rigid gentleness. Why she felt so strongly drawn to him, she could not explain; it had something to do with the way he held her with such tender, rigid awkwardness.
It certainly wasn’t his powers of address. He had no conversation skills. Graceful, pretty compliments had not flowed from his tongue. And he’d scowled terribly at her as he asked which twin she was. There was a brooding, intense air of distraction about him, as if his full attention wasn’t on her.
And yet she hadn’t felt ignored or slighted. Instead, she’d felt . . . almost cherished. Which was silly, really—it was just a dance, after all. And not a very good one, either.
It was a shame he wasn’t her dream man. Because he did interest her. But the waltz they’d shared had been as far from perfect as possible.
She sighed again and snuggled the bedclothes around her. She really ought to get some sleep.
A chuckle escaped her as she recalled Mrs. Jenner’s description of him as a silver-tongued charmer. Sebastian Reyne was so prickly and standoffish, he could give lessons to a thistle! And she’d had to pry words out of him like a clam.
In the hall below, the clock chimed three.
He’d shown interest only in Hope and Lady Elinore. The contrast in them was so great, it was a puzzle. Why Lady Elinore?
The unwelcome thought lingered. Lady Elinore was a bit of an ape-leader, a rich, dowdy spinster who had no family to protect her from the wiles of a fortune hunter.
She turned over in bed and hugged the bedclothes tighter around her. He wasn’t what Mrs. Jenner said he was. He wasn’t.
He wanted Hope; she knew it, could feel it. In two seasons the Merridew diamonds had learned to distinguish between a boy’s crush and the desire of a man. She and Faith knew to take steps to let the boy or man down gently, before it got too serious. But this was out of her experience. His compelling hunger and raw, brutally reined-in desire was something she’d never felt before. It created an echoing resonance deep within her.
A sensual shudder ran through her at the thought.
None of the boys or men she’d known had touched off any chord inside her. But just one long, intense look from Sebastian Reyne . . .
She wished he wasn’t so big and brawny. He was even taller and more powerful than Grandpapa. Which meant he could hurt her more . . .
He was everything she thought she didn’t want, but she’d never responded to a man so quickly, so strongly.
Would Mr. Reyne hurt her? That was the question. She’d felt the hard power of his muscles and had trembled. But she also recalled the ease with which he’d defended her from the drunken Lord Streatfield. He’d protected her so beautifully. Leashed power.
“You can tell by looking at him he has a violent history,” Mrs. Jenner had said.
Hope had a violent history, too.
She turned over and thumped her pillows into a more comfortable shape. It was all too much to think about. Was he this? Was he that? Her brain was whirling. Things never made sense in the middle of the night, she told herself crossly. Tomorrow was a new dawn.
Chapter Four
But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.
JANE AUSTEN
IT WAS ONE OF THOSE MORNINGS. NOT QUITE DAWN. A FEW hardy London birds starting the predawn chatter. Hope was wide awake, feeling as though she was about to burst out of her skin. Tense.
Defending her, he’d lost all awkwardness and self-consciousness, and his power and strength had flowed around her in a protective shield.
It had quite taken her breath away. And for a few moments she’d forgotten where she was.
She’d never met anyone like him. He was such a collection of contradictions. Public self-possession and private shyness. Physical strength tempered with rigid gentleness. Why she felt so strongly drawn to him, she could not explain; it had something to do with the way he held her with such tender, rigid awkwardness.
It certainly wasn’t his powers of address. He had no conversation skills. Graceful, pretty compliments had not flowed from his tongue. And he’d scowled terribly at her as he asked which twin she was. There was a brooding, intense air of distraction about him, as if his full attention wasn’t on her.
And yet she hadn’t felt ignored or slighted. Instead, she’d felt . . . almost cherished. Which was silly, really—it was just a dance, after all. And not a very good one, either.
It was a shame he wasn’t her dream man. Because he did interest her. But the waltz they’d shared had been as far from perfect as possible.
She sighed again and snuggled the bedclothes around her. She really ought to get some sleep.
A chuckle escaped her as she recalled Mrs. Jenner’s description of him as a silver-tongued charmer. Sebastian Reyne was so prickly and standoffish, he could give lessons to a thistle! And she’d had to pry words out of him like a clam.
In the hall below, the clock chimed three.
He’d shown interest only in Hope and Lady Elinore. The contrast in them was so great, it was a puzzle. Why Lady Elinore?
The unwelcome thought lingered. Lady Elinore was a bit of an ape-leader, a rich, dowdy spinster who had no family to protect her from the wiles of a fortune hunter.
She turned over in bed and hugged the bedclothes tighter around her. He wasn’t what Mrs. Jenner said he was. He wasn’t.
He wanted Hope; she knew it, could feel it. In two seasons the Merridew diamonds had learned to distinguish between a boy’s crush and the desire of a man. She and Faith knew to take steps to let the boy or man down gently, before it got too serious. But this was out of her experience. His compelling hunger and raw, brutally reined-in desire was something she’d never felt before. It created an echoing resonance deep within her.
A sensual shudder ran through her at the thought.
None of the boys or men she’d known had touched off any chord inside her. But just one long, intense look from Sebastian Reyne . . .
She wished he wasn’t so big and brawny. He was even taller and more powerful than Grandpapa. Which meant he could hurt her more . . .
He was everything she thought she didn’t want, but she’d never responded to a man so quickly, so strongly.
Would Mr. Reyne hurt her? That was the question. She’d felt the hard power of his muscles and had trembled. But she also recalled the ease with which he’d defended her from the drunken Lord Streatfield. He’d protected her so beautifully. Leashed power.
“You can tell by looking at him he has a violent history,” Mrs. Jenner had said.
Hope had a violent history, too.
She turned over and thumped her pillows into a more comfortable shape. It was all too much to think about. Was he this? Was he that? Her brain was whirling. Things never made sense in the middle of the night, she told herself crossly. Tomorrow was a new dawn.
Chapter Four
But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way.
JANE AUSTEN
IT WAS ONE OF THOSE MORNINGS. NOT QUITE DAWN. A FEW hardy London birds starting the predawn chatter. Hope was wide awake, feeling as though she was about to burst out of her skin. Tense.
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