couldn't look away, could barely breathe, as the room revolved about them. Her senses narrowed, until the world she knew was encompassed within the circle of his arms.
Time stopped. All that was left was the sway of their bodies, caught in the compelling, powerful rhythm only they could hear. The violins played a minor theme; the music that played between them came from a different source.
It swelled and grew. Hips and thighs met, caressed, and parted as they shifted through the turns. The rhythm called, their bodies answered, flowing effortlessly with the dance, pulsing with the beat, heating slowly. Touching tantaliz-ingly. Teasing and promising. When the violins ceased and their feet slowed, their music still played on.
Vane hauled in a deep breath; the moment shivered about them. He forced his arms from about Patience, caught her hand, and placed it on his sleeve, unable, even though he knew too many were watching avidly, to forgo placing his free hand over her fingers.
He felt her slight shudder, took her weight as, for an instant, she leaned more heavily on him, blinking rapidly as she struggled to pull free of the magic.
She lifted her eyes and studied his face. Coolly, a great deal more coolly than he felt, he raised a brow.
Patience straightened. Looking ahead, she put her nose in the air. 'You waltz quite creditably.'
Vane chuckled through his teeth. His jaw was set against the urge to whisk her away, through one of the doors that led from the music room. He knew this house like the back of his hand. While she might not know their options, he did. But too many were watching them, and Honoria, for one, would never forgive him. Not so early in the evening, when sudden absences were too obvious.
Later. He'd already given up all thought that he could weather tonight without sating his demons. Not while she was wearing that dress.
Dashing, Minnie had termed it.
Dashed impossible, from his point of view.
He'd had every intention of toeing the line, at least until she'd accepted his offer. Now… There was such a thing as tempting a wolf too far.
He glanced down. Patience strolled serenely on his arm. The bronze-silk gown fitted snugly about her breasts, with only the tiniest wisps of sleeves, set off her shoulders, to distract from the glorious expanse of creamy skin, the ripe swells of her upper breasts, the delicate molding of her shoulders. The long straight skirts draped gently over her curvy hips, sleekly concealing her derriere; they fluttered elegantly about her legs, the hems ruffled to tantalizingly reveal her ankles as she walked.
While the neckline was low, there was nothing specifically outrageous about the gown. It was the combination of the woman wearing it and Celestine's faultlessly draped fabric that was causing his problems.
Only from his vantage point was it possible to see how deeply Patience's breasts rose and fell.
A second later, he forced himself to lift his head and look ahead.
Later.
He drew a deep breath, and held it.
'Evening, Cynster.' An elegant gentleman stepped forward from the crowd, his gaze on Patience. 'Miss…?' Smoothly, he looked at Vane.
Who sighed. Audibly. And nodded. 'Chillingworth.' Vane glanced at Patience. 'Allow me to present the earl of Chillingworth.' He looked at Chillingworth. 'Miss Debbington, Lady Bellamy's niece.'
Patience curtsied. Chillingworth smiled charmingly, and bowed, as gracefully as any Cynster.
'I take it you've come up to town with Lady Bellamy, Miss Debbington. Are you finding the capital to your liking?'
'Actually, no.' Patience saw no reason to prevaricate. 'I fear I'm addicted to early mornings, my lord, a time the
Chillingworth blinked. He glanced swiftly at Vane, then his gaze dropped fleetingly to where Vane's hand covered Patience's fingers, resting on his sleeve. He raised his brows and smiled suavely at Patience. 'I'm almost tempted to explain, my dear, that our apparent dismissal of the morning hours is, in fact, a natural consequence of our activities in the
'Perhaps you had.' There was no mistaking the steel in Vane's tone.
Fleetingly, Chillingworth grinned, but when he looked back at Patience, he was calmly serious once more. 'You know, it's really quite odd.' He smiled. 'While I rarely find myself in agreement with Cynsters, one has to admit their taste in one respect resonates remarkably with mine.'
'Indeed?' Patience acknowledged the veiled compliment with an assured smile. Having dealt with Vane for three weeks, the earl, charming and undeniably handsome though he was, had no chance of ruffling her feathers.
'Indeed.' Chillingworth turned to quiz Vane. 'Don't you find that remarkable, Cynster?'
'Not at all,' Vane replied. 'Some things are so blatantly obvious even you should appreciate them.' Chillingworth's eyes sparked. Vane smoothly continued, 'However, given your admittedly similar tastes, you might reflect on where following such tastes might land you.' He nodded across the room.
Both Chillingworth and Patience followed his direction, and saw Devil and Honoria by the side of the ballroom, clearly engaged in some pointed discussion. As they watched, Honoria clasped her hands about Devil's arm and pushed to turn him down the room. The look Devil cast the ceiling, the long-suffering look he cast his wife as he acquiesced, made it clear who had won the round.
Chillingworth shook his head sadly. 'Ah, how the mighty have fallen.'
'You'd best be on your guard,' Vane advised, 'given that your tastes so parallel the Cynsters', that you don't find yourself in a situation you're constitutionally unprepared to handle.'
Chillingworth grinned. 'Ah, but I don't suffer from the Achilles' heel with which fate has hobbled the Cynsters.' Still grinning, he bowed to Patience. 'Your servant, Miss Debbington. Cynster.' With a last nod, he went on his way, ignoring Vane's narrow-eyed glare.
Patience looked up into Vane's face. 'What Achilles' heel?'
Vane stirred. 'Nothing. It's just his notion of a joke.'
If it was a joke, it had had an odd effect. 'Who is he?' Palienee asked. 'Is he a Cynster connection of sorts?'
'He's not related-at least not by blood.' After a moment, Vane added, 'I suppose, these days, he's an honorary Cynster.' He glanced at Patience. 'We elected him for services rendered to the dukedom.'
'Oh?' Patience let her eyes ask her question.
'He and Devil have a history. Ask Honoria about it sometime.'
The musicians started up again. Before Patience could blink, Lucifer was bowing before her. Vane let her go, somewhat reluctantly, she thought. But as she whirled down the floor, she saw him whirling, too, a striking brunnette in his arms.
Abruptly, Patience looked away, and gave her attention to the dance, and to dealing with Lucifer's glib tongue. And ignoring her sinking heart.
The end of the measure saw them well down the room, Lucifer introduced her to a group of ladies and gentlemen, all chatting easily. Patience tried to concentrate, tried to follow the conversation.
She literally jumped when hard fingers closed about hers, lifted her hand from Lucifer's sleeve and placed it, firmly, on a familiar arm.
'Upstart,' Vane growled. And deftly insinuated himself between Lucifer and Patience.
Lucifer grinned engagingly. 'You need to work for it, coz. You know none of us appreciates that which comes too readily.'
Vane slayed him with a look, then turneti to Patience. 'Come, let's stroll. Before he puts misguided notions into your head.'
Intrigued, Patience allowed herself to be escorted on an amble up the room. 'What misguided notions?'
'Never mind.
