His dance took on a sexual character as he writhed across the stage like a cat in heat; his chest and arm muscles flexing to delightful effect as he continued to gyrate.
Seeming to sense her need, the dancer advanced to the front of the stage with a feline stroll that stole her breath; then, coming to a dead halt at her table, he held his hand out to her.
Yet unlike the dreams that plagued her psyche every night, this one did not fade to black; quite the contrary, Ian’s arms were hard and warm as they swept her onto the stage, encompassing her in an embrace that united their bodies in a passionate clench.
“I must warn you,” she stared into his eyes, her own voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart, “I don’t dance nearly as well as I write.”
His answering chuckle was deep and sensual.
“Do not worry Madame,” he pressed those delicious lips firm against her cheek. “Relax and let me do everything.” He engaged her in a thrilling dip, pressing his muscled chest against hers. “I am here for your pleasure.”
Suddenly he surged upward, lifting her full-figured form with effortless ease and twirling her free in the air.
Letting loose with an uncharacteristic giggle, she threw her head back and braced her hands on his sturdy shoulders; sighing a moment later as he joined their bodies for an unforgettable tango.
Their hands clenched between them as he moved against her; his hips rocking against hers in a suggestive manner as she rested his head on his bare chest and fell with ease into his rhythm.
“I’ve never danced this way at a society ball,” she smiled, inhaling his rich citrus scent as her fingers dared to tangle in the strands of his long auburn hair.
“Really?” He teased her with a flirtatious wink. “So tell me, do they do this at society balls?”
Sweeping her up in a heated embrace, he seized her lips in a passionate kiss; swallowing her surprised gasp as he rubbed his full, moist lips against hers and thrust his tongue inward-its slow, smooth back and forth motion emulating the motions of sex.
Wrapping her arms around his muscled shoulders and leaning inward, Moira lost herself in his kiss; pressing her lips against his as his delectable hands ran like warm water down her back.
All too soon he pulled away; once again offering his hand as the crowd roared around them.
“Care to go backstage, love?” He seared her with his sultry eyes.
“You think?” She arched her eyebrows, making quick steps for that mysterious region behind the second velvet curtain.
Soon she found herself seated on a lush settee of crinkled lavender silk; staring around her with wide eyes at an elaborately adorned area that seemed to double as a dressing room.
The blond couple that she’d seen earlier on stage lounged easily on scarlet cushions at opposite sides of the room; feasting on an assortment of cheeses and fruits as they regarded their guest with curious stares. Meanwhile, the next act scheduled to dance-an ebony-haired duo with similar striking features-scurried to slip in to their skin tight costumes as their intro music surged around them.
Moira, by contrast, lounged easy on her seat, smiling as her handsome host fed her an assortment of sumptuous petit fours; tasty delicacies served up on a shiny silver platter.
“You are officially too wonderful,” she praised him, smacking her lips. “Do tell me your name.”
The dancer shrugged.
“As you well know, Ms. Bentley.” He charmed her with a white-toothed grin. “I am your Ian.” His beam dissolved as he set aside the platter, taking her hand in his. “For so long, Moira, I have felt lost in life-I walked the streets of London as an orphan, and for a while I worked in the service of older ladies in need of male companionship.”
“Really?” Moira straightened in her seat, startled by his frankness.
“So sorry, didn’t mean to shock you miss.” The dancer clasped her hands in his, leaning forward to grace her with a gaze of tender sincerity.
“Oh it’s all right.” She squeezed his fingers. “Do go on.”
“Well, I fear there’s not much to tell.” Her companion gestured toward the other troupe members, who offered shy smiles in return. “You are looking at my brothers and sisters of the street. Bethelyn found us when we were in our early 20s, and she taught us to dress and dance.” He smiled slightly at the thought of his mentor. “She is a very generous woman, Miss-and while she gave us all that we needed in life, she didn’t give me a true identity.” He threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. “I did not know who I was,” with this his brilliant smile returned, and he surged forward to sear her lips with a quick but meaningful kiss. “Then I read your book, Miss. And in your hero Ian I found a reflection of myself, only he was so much better. So great and noble.” His darkened gaze came alight with wonder as he considered his character. “I started to think and speak as he did, to read the same books and practice the same beliefs. Suddenly I had a persona, a world view.” He gathered a beaming Moira in his arms, clutching her close. “Bethelyn made me a dancer, Moira-but you made me a person.”
Drawing back with a soft sob, Moira cupped Ian’s carved cheeks and rained kisses on his smiling lips.
“I am honored that my novel inspired you so,” she smiled, “And I understand your feelings, as Ian has given me life as well, at least in a manner of speaking.” She squinted thoughtfully. “For so long, I was known primarily as the sheltered matron who still resided in her parents’ home and cared for them as they aged.” Her gaze grew misty as she pictured the kind faces of Lord and Lady Bentley. “It was an honor to care for my parents-but when they passed I found myself alone, and quite without purpose.”
“I’m sorry.” Ian held her closer to him. “Surely, though, many a man has asked for your hand in marriage.”
He jumped as Moira met his words with a burst of raucous laughter.
“Not a single one dear,” she rolled her eyes heavenward. “I was never what you would call a belle of the ton.” She shrugged. “The gentlemen of my class seem to be in search of a woman who lacks both brains and hips.” She lifted her chin in a proud stance. “I have both in abundance, and am quite happy by myself-especially now that I’ve written my book, and I have a career and a purpose.”
“That’s wonderful Miss. You are an amazing woman, like none I’ve ever met.” Ian applauded, adding in a softened voice, “Only I must observe, my lady, that when I read your work I feel such warmth and passion rising from your pages.” His voice lowered to a sultry whisper as his arms tightened around her waist. “I sense a desire that needs to be satisfied.” Ian arched his eyebrows, nestling her neck as his tickling fingertips massaged her lower back. “Perhaps I could help.”
She took in her breath as he planted sweet baby kisses across the surface of his tender nape; all the while running his hands down her sides and across her rounded hips.
Closing her eyes, Moira tipped her head back and moaned softly as he lowered his head to her breasts; licking their exposed tops before kissing her nipples through the soft sheen of her silken gown.
For a moment the woman lost herself in passion, running loving hands through his long, soft hair as he worshipped her with his mouth.
Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she flushed beneath the scrutinizing gaze of the blonde Noir dancers.
“Ian, they’re watching us,” she hissed.
“It’s quite all right love.”
She jumped at the sight of a smirking Bethelyn, who swept into the backstage area with the soft swish of her satin skirts.
“We are all very open around here.” She watched as her final dancers of the evening, the sculpted ivory skinned brunette couple, took leave of the stage; joining them in the backstage area. “Indeed, it is after a performance of Ballet Noir that the real show begins.”
Claiming a seat in a cushioned wicker fan chair at the center of their dressing room, Bethelyn watched with a casual gaze as the dark-haired male stripped out of his fitted silver-hued tights; revealing a lean, sleek body that shone pure white in the lights above him.
Not to be outdone the golden-haired dancer abandoned his plush scarlet cushion and crawled to Bethelyn’s side; searing her with a sedulous glance as he rose up on his knees before her.
