Samantha Kane (3 page)

attractive half smile. His good looks alone made her wary of a

mere dance. He’d had the delightfuly witty and vivacious Miss

Dorsett very nearly throwing herself at his feet but a half hour

past. His interest in Vanessa must surely be motivated by a

desire to ensure her silence.

“Lady Vanessa,” an irritating voice triled to her left. Lady

Dalrymple was hurrying up to them, resembling a startled, plump

dove in her gray watered silk. “Let me introduce you to Mr.

Oliver Gabriel. A friend of Mrs. Shelby’s nephew, isn’t that

right, Mr. Gabriel?” He nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off

Vanessa. “And this is Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe,” she

continued, breathless from her rush to reach them, and from the

thril of introducing Vanessa to someone unsuitable, in al

likelihood. “You should dance, my dear,” the older woman

crooned sympatheticaly. “You haven’t had a partner al

evening.”

At that comment Mr. Gabriel’s eyes flicked to Lady Dalrymple

and then back to Vanessa. Vanessa wasn’t sure what his look

meant. Agreement with Lady Dalrymple? Horror that he might

have asked a social pariah to dance? Distaste for Lady

Dalrymple’s obvious efforts to demean Vanessa in front of him?

Vanessa dearly hoped it was the latter.

With an effort Vanessa tore her gaze away from Mr. Gabriel and

saw with growing discomfort that they had attracted an audience.

Her gaze clashed with that of the dark-eyed, dark-haired,

frowning gentleman who’d been holding Miss Dorsett. The one

who had licked the girl’s neck. Vanessa could see the wicked

caress in her mind as clearly as if she were watching it again, and

her cheeks heated as perspiration broke out on her brow and

between her breasts. He frowned harder at her and then his gaze

cut to Mr. Gabriel.

Mr. Gabriel just stood there. It took Vanessa a moment to figure

out that he was waiting on her answer. The entire room was

waiting. Suddenly her mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton

wool. She couldn’t utter a sound. She just stood there, biting her

lip, staring back at Mr. Gabriel.

From the corner of her eye she saw the dark-haired man turn

away in anger. There was something about his rejection of the

whole scene, of her in particular, that spurred her to answer.

“Yes,” she blurted out. The smile that slowly spread over Mr.

Gabriel’s face had butterflies dancing in her stomach.

Lady Dalrymple’s reaction was worth the nerves now besetting

Vanessa. The older woman stood there gaping, her mouth

hanging open. Vanessa belatedly realized she hadn’t been trying

hanging open. Vanessa belatedly realized she hadn’t been trying

to demean her by pointing out her lack of partners, but by

showing her incapable of accepting an innocent offer of a dance

from someone socialy beneath her. Now that she had, Vanessa

was sure Lady Dalrymple would find a way to twist it into

something unpleasant.

Without acknowledging Lady Dalrymple or any of the other

observers of their introduction, Mr. Gabriel took Vanessa’s hand

and led her out to the dance floor. They passed the dark-haired

man, who stopped to watch them walk by. His look was

enigmatic now and Vanessa found herself inordinately curious as

to what he made of her acceptance.

It wasn’t until they were facing each other on the dance floor that

Vanessa realized she didn’t know what dance they were

supposed to be doing. She peeked up at Mr. Gabriel, who was

stil watching her, that ever-present amusement on his face. His

eyes were brown, so light they were almost gold. With his wavy

blond hair, it was a potent combination. Vanessa sternly

reminded herself to keep her head about her. She had a feeling

there was a great deal more to Mr. Gabriel than attractive

features.

“It’s a waltz,” he told her. Her eyes widened in surprise at his

apparent ability to read her mind. “You haven’t danced al night,”

he told her as he took his position next to her and held his hand

out for hers. “I assumed you hadn’t been paying attention to the

dances.”

“I have not,” she agreed truthfuly. “Thank you.” With a deep

breath Vanessa found the composure that had abandoned her

earlier. She placed one hand in Mr. Gabriel’s and her other arm

on his shoulder, which was no mean feat as he was so tal. She

should have found out the dance before agreeing. A waltz was

far too provocative to dance with a complete stranger. Especialy

this dangerously compeling stranger.

The music began, a slow French waltz. That meant a Sauteuse

waltz and a Jetté would folow, al with Mr. Gabriel. As they

performed the march steps, the introduction to the dance, she

could tel that in spite of his size he was an excelent dancer, light on his feet with a gentle hand to guide his partner. For the first

time since he’d asked her to dance, Vanessa relaxed and began

to enjoy herself.

She loved to dance. The music, the feel of her partner’s hand in

hers, moving her body vigorously—the entire act pleased her. It

was a freedom she rarely enjoyed in any other endeavor. And

conversation was most often kept to a minimum. She needn’t

utter an endless stream of platitudes, merely one or two when the

dancing brought her face-to-face with her partner.

She had to reach high in order to grasp Mr. Gabriel’s hand over

their heads as they spun in a pas de bourée, and with a genuine

smile he lowered his arm to accommodate her without missing a

smile he lowered his arm to accommodate her without missing a

step.

“You are quite dainty,” he observed admiringly. “I feel like a

great elephant next to you.”

Vanessa laughed. “I am not so dainty as you believe, but you are

indeed greater in size. Your dancing, however, makes you

appear as a gazele rather than an elephant.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure I wish to be a slight gazele. But I

think you meant that as a compliment. Did you not?”

“Indeed I did,” she said on the next pass around, and they

switched hands over their heads. He had very masculine hands.

He inclined his head. “Thank you. And may I return the

compliment. Your dancing is as graceful as I imagined it would

be.”

Vanessa just smiled. She’d heard many such empty

compliments. She concentrated on the dance and the music, and

the feel of Mr. Gabriel’s big, strong hands.

When the Sauteuse began Mr. Gabriel placed his hands on her

waist and she nearly flew through the air in the first up-tempo

pas de bourée. If she hadn’t been holding onto his shoulders she

would have. It felt so wonderful she laughed out loud.

“Ah, there it is,” he said with light laugh. “Now I know you are

enjoying our dance.”

“Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly, “very much.” When she realized

what she’d said she looked at him in alarm. He just smiled and

spun her again. So Vanessa ignored her better judgment and lost

herself in the dance.

She was a dream to dance with. So light and dainty, and yet ful

of energy and delight as he spun her about the floor. Oliver

hadn’t enjoyed a dance this much in years. She hadn’t wanted to

dance with him. He’d seen her hesitation. Thank God for

busybodies like Lady Dalrymple, interfering where they were not

wanted and ignorantly playing right into his hands.

Lady Vanessa’s hold on his hands was firm and assured. Each

time they grasped hands she practicaly caressed his palm, and

then wrapped her elegant fingers around his like a kiss. She liked

the way he felt. He knew it. He took a deep breath, not alowing

his desire for her to get out of control. They were on display

here, after al. He wanted her. He didn’t want to drive her away

by embarrassing her with his lack of discretion.

He wished the French waltz was danced in reverse, fast to slow

rather than slow to fast. He wanted to tease her some more, to

pul her close to his side and feel the rise and fal of her rapid

pul her close to his side and feel the rise and fal of her rapid

breathing. When the dance caled for her to place her hands

behind her back as he slid his hands around her waist and

grasped them, he had to fight the urge to yank her against him

and kiss her.

Her eyes widened and she looked like a startled doe. Something

must have shown in his expression. Her manner cooled

considerably for the remainder of the dance and Oliver inwardly

cursed. Rather than retreating when the dance came to a close,

however, he went on the attack.

“You didn’t run when you saw us,” he said as they began to

leave the dance floor. “Why?”

Only a brief hesitation in her step gave away her surprise at his

question. Without looking at him she said, “I was too shocked. I

wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t at first realize what was

happening.”

He had to admire her forthrightness. She hadn’t tried to pretend

ignorance. “And when you did?”

“I didn’t wish to embarrass the lady involved.”

Now that did surprise Oliver. From Melinda Dorsett’s words

he’d assumed the animosity between them was mutual.

Apparently not. Lady Vanessa’s sensitivity to how the situation

might have affected the other woman was admirable. It also

might have affected the other woman was admirable. It also

showed an unexpected depth of understanding concerning the

consequences that could occur were one to be caught in such a

compromising position. For many reasons, Oliver thanked God it

was Lady Vanessa who had discovered them, and not someone

else. It would have been Nick who paid the price and Oliver

could not have tolerated that.

Lady Vanessa began to move in the direction of an attractive

older woman who had been watching them closely. Oliver

refused to let her go. Instead he steered her in the opposite

direction.

“Mr. Gabriel,” she said firmly. “Our dance is at an end. To walk

and talk privately with you now could be construed as a

declaration.”

“Perhaps it is,” he said cheerfuly. He practicaly dragged her

over toward Nick. Not that the rest of the room could tel. Her

composure never faltered, and he was sure onlookers saw

nothing amiss in their pleasant conversation. Nick watched them

approach, his expression wary. Nick was oblivious, as usual, to

the longing glances cast his way by the young ladies idling

nearby. His dark good looks drew them like bees to nectar. His

complete disregard for them also attracted them, perverse

creatures that they were. The more he ignored them, the more

they wanted him. It was amusing, realy.

He gauged Lady Vanessa’s reaction. She had looked

mesmerized by Nick earlier in the dark of the halway. Was it

him or what he had been doing with Miss Dorsett?

As they drew up in front of Nick, Lady Vanessa grew agitated.

Although, again, it was hard to tel unless you were watching her

closely. Her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink and she

refused to look at Nick. Interesting.

“May I present Mr. Nicholas Wilkes?” Oliver said. “Nick, this is

Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe.”

Lady Vanessa reluctantly held out her hand and Nick shook it,

bending over in a slight bow. “How do you do, Lady Vanessa?”

Nick murmured. His face was set but his eyes were stormy.

Nick didn’t understand. He thought her reluctance was just that,

and not the result of an unwanted attraction. Oliver wanted to

laugh in delight. Oh, seducing Lady Vanessa was going to be so

much fun.

“And now we are three,” Oliver said with satisfaction. “Surely no

one can criticize us now if we promenade around the room

together? Hmm?”

Nick cast a startled glance his way.

“I dare say they should not,” Lady Vanessa agreed stiffly.

“Although they surely wil.”

“Although they surely wil.”

Oliver laughed. “Let them talk. Come.” He began walking again

and Nick fel into step on the other side of Lady Vanessa. He

said nothing, clearly letting Oliver lead the way.

“Are you enjoying the holiday season?” Oliver asked, keeping

the conversation impersonal. For now.

“Yes,” she replied politely. “Although it has only just begun.” She

cast an amused look his way. “Truthfuly, I would prefer the old

ways, I think. Games, Yule logs, Christmas candles, mummers

and greenery.” She blushed on the last.

“Mistletoe?” Oliver teased.

“And others,” she said sharply. “Rosemary and holy, ivy and

bay.”

“Of course,” he murmured. After a minute or two of silence he

tried again. “I enjoyed our dance immensely,” Oliver

commented, watching Lady Vanessa nod politely to just about

everyone they passed. “Do you dance often?”

“I like to dance,” she answered simply. “I do not get the

opportunity as often as I would like.”

“Why not?” Nick asked, startling both Oliver and Vanessa. His

voice was low and harsh. “Why did no one ask you tonight?”

Lady Vanessa’s hand tightened on Oliver’s arm. “I’m sure I

don’t know,” she replied, her demeanor composed. “Why don’t

you inquire of the men in attendance?”