The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (45 page)

“The ball will be Friday. Is that enough time?”

“Friday is more than sufficient to double the turn out,” Perry said, grinning at his brother’s state.

Gideon’s gaze imparted the only issue of importance in this entire affair: that Francine be his, as expediently as possible.

Roxleigh House buzzed all week with preparation. The simple ballroom in the town house was scrubbed floor to ceiling, the inlaid wood polished meticulously, the leaded glass windows cleaned, and the marble columns and the attached terrace over the gardens scoured.

Francine looked forward to the ball, but she was also extremely nervous. She had never danced, at least not formally.
The Chicken Dance certainly doesn’t count,
she thought as she wandered the halls looking for Miss Faversham. She found her in the upstairs parlor with the sisters.

“Good afternoon, Lady Francine.”

“Good afternoon.”

“Is something troubling you, my lady?”

“Oh, please,
please
call me Francine.” Miss Faversham nodded and took her hand, pulling her to the window seat.

Francine fidgeted. “I— uh, the ball,” she said quietly so the sisters wouldn’t hear.

Miss Faversham placed her hands over Francine’s to steady them.

“It’s just, I—I’ve no idea how to dance.” She stared at her hands.

Miss Faversham smiled brightly. “Is that all?”

Francine looked at her, then nodded.

“Do not fear, sweet girl. I’ll make arrangements.”

Later that day, Miss Faversham found Francine reading in the parlor. “I’ve arranged for your dance lesson, my la—Francine. If you don’t mind, Carole will accompany you to the ballroom, and please put your gloves on. ”

Francine put the book down and stood. She took the gloves that Miss Favershamm handed her, then followed Carole to the ballroom. As she crossed the threshold, her skin prickled. She took a deep breath and turned to the French doors that led to the garden. They were open slightly, letting in a breeze that drifted past Gideon, drawing with it his familiar scent. She inhaled deeply and smiled.

Carole walked to the French doors, nodding as she passed him, and went out to the terrace as he moved toward Francine.

Her body reacted to him without permission. Her skin awakened, her heart raced, her eyes glistened. As she went to meet him, the fabric of her dress created goose bumps on her arms and her skirts created a stir of air that she felt swirling around her ankles and up her legs.

He moved impossibly slow, like a jaguar stalking its prey. She held still, reminding herself to breathe.

She didn’t shift except for her eyes, which watched him as he began to circle her.

“I understand you need dance lessons before the ball tomorrow.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Her hands trembled.

He savored the energy between them. Stopping just behind her, he reached out and said, “I can help you with that.”

The air between them shifted.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, lifting her hand slowly, waiting to feel his hand on hers. Unexpectedly, she felt pressure on her belly as he drew her back into his sturdy form. She felt his chest rise as he breathed, nuzzling into her hair. Her head fell back against his shoulder and she covered his large hand with hers.

“Shall we begin?” he breathed into her ear.

“Mmm-hmm.”

He smiled and spun her around. “This,” he began as he pulled her tight against him, “is too close.”

She felt herself blush as she stared over his shoulder.

“You’ll have the gossips in a right state if we dance without the proper distance between us.” He loosened his grasp as the silent dance began.

She wasn’t entirely sure how she was to survive the lesson, much less the ball.

“Close your eyes.”

She did.

Her breath caught as the memory of their first kiss assailed her. His hands tightened, and he placed his feet next to hers, the sides touching. He pulled her hand, leading her around the floor slowly while he whispered directions.

“Keep your feet against mine.” He lifted one of his boots, pulling her slippered foot along with it as if they were tethered. He counted the steps. “One, two, three, one, two, three. That’s right.”

She relaxed into his hold, allowing him to lead her, and before long they were swirling around the ballroom and she was laughing at the twinge in her belly from the swift movement.

“It is merely another form of communication without words, something you are already good at,” he said quietly.

Francine opened her eyes and immediately missed a step.

Gideon caught her, pulling her back into the waltz without missing a beat.

“So this is why everyone loves to dance,” she whispered.

He smiled, and she closed her eyes again and concentrated on the feel of him beneath her hands. She could feel him along the entire length of her body. The way his thigh parted her legs through her skirts when he moved toward her, the feel of his muscles twisting below his clothes. Her entire being was suffused in reaction to his closeness.

She felt his chest against her corset and her lips parted. His strong thigh brushed against her leg and she drew a breath, releasing her hold on him. She felt her insides unravel like a ball of yarn. She held her chest, trying to calm her breathing.

“My sweet, are you all right?”

“No, I am most decidedly not all right,” she said. “You walk into a room and I’m overwhelmed by your scent. I walk past the study and I can feel you inside. I’m within reach of you and my skin is sensitive to the point that the very air around me makes me tremble. When you look at me, your eyes burnish my soul. I can feel you touching me, within and without, and you don’t even have to move. I know how your body feels. Your calloused hands, the strong muscles that shift under your skin against mine. The way you touch me. Here, and—here.” She gestured to her neck, then swept her hand down her neck. “The way your lips conform to mine, willing my mouth to your bidding. I am overcome, overwhelmed, saturated. I feel you surrounding me, and I want nothing more than to feel you inside of me, as one with me. No, I am most decidedly
not
all right.”

He was obviously satisfied by his effect on her, and she laughed, blushing as her hand flew to her face.

“No, don’t,” he said. “Don’t ever hide yourself from me. Not ever.”

She dropped her hand and he caught it in his. He brought it to his mouth, kissing her palm.

She bit her bottom lip and a low groan escaped him.

His hand went to her jaw and he tilted her face, kissing her with all the heat and desire of a man drawn deeply into love.

Her hands stole around his waist, feeling his muscles tense wherever she touched him, and she closed her eyes, fighting against the swoon.

He pulled away from her and she gasped for air.

She rested her hand on his chest and felt his heart skip a beat under her touch. She slowly slid her hand down, aware of his body’s unchecked reaction to her, and was mesmerized at the effect of her touch on him.

“And this is what you do to me.” He pushed her hand farther down, to the ridge of his trousers. “I can scarcely sit in a room with you. I can’t have a polite conversation for fear my thoughts of you will color my words. My body yearns for you, my heart beats for you, my being strains for you. You have me undone.”

She placed both hands on the narrow of his waist and looked up at him, realizing how close his words came to capturing her heart. She heard the French doors open at the end of the ballroom and he pulled her back into a formal stance, sweeping her into the waltz as Carole entered, but she couldn’t keep up with him. She struggled to breathe, and the spinning caught in her brain and her world started to slide.

Love
.
He loves me. I can’t do this, because love only ever leads to…to—

She faltered and he caught her. “I am not this weak. I don’t know who I am anymore,” she yelled, “but I am not this weak!” She pushed away from him. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir! This is not who I am!” She turned and strode from the ballroom, leaving him stunned, his arms held in midair. Carole ran past him and the rush of her skirts was enough to knock him off kilter as she followed Francine.

Francine hurried into her room, pulling clothes from her wardrobe and throwing them aside. She was furious.
Damned skirts
. She walked back out to the hallway and ran into Ferry. “I need a shirt and some pants.”

He stared at her.

“Shirt and pants, trousers, whatever.” She waited. “Now,” she said.

Ferry looked around and spotted Gideon at the base of the stairs.

Gideon nodded, and Ferry looked back to Francine.

“Just a moment, please, my lady.” He turned toward Gideon’s room, then soon returned to the hallway carrying a pile of clothing.

Francine took the bundle and nodded. “Thank you.” She glanced down at Gideon. “I’m going for a ride. You have ten minutes to ready the horses, and do
not
use that infernal sidesaddle.” Without waiting for his opinion, she went straight to her room.

Her heart was racing, her palms were clammy, and she shook from head to toe. She yelled for Carole, but the maid didn’t answer. “Where did she get off to?” she wondered as she walked back into the hallway. “Ferry!” she yelled, and the two men at the top of the stairs jumped in unison.

Ferry glanced to Gideon and Gideon jerked his head toward her.

The valet smiled nervously and followed her into her room.

“Help me with this corset, please,” she growled.

Ferry paled and walked directly back out of the room as she watched, disgruntled.

A few moments later the door opened and Carole entered.

“Where did you go? Help me with this.”

“Of course, milady, I beg yer pardon. I went to prepare some tea. I thought ye might need somethin’ fer yer nerves.”

That’s great. I am in the midst of a nervous breakdown, and the proper response is to prepare some tea
.

Carole helped her change into the shirt and trousers, but they wouldn’t stay up. Carole studied her. “One moment, please, my lady.” She scurried from the room, then returned swiftly with a pair of braces and fastened them to the trousers. The waistband sagged from the points of her hips around to the center of the back between the buttons. Carole gathered Francine’s long hair into a tight knot at her nape and secured it with pins, then she pulled out some riding boots, fastening them for her. “Is there anythin’ else I can do for you, milady?”

“No, thank you, Carole. And I won’t be needing a chaperone.”

Gideon watched as Francine emerged from her room, meeting him at the head of the stairs. She had no corset on, and her breasts grazed the inside of his borrowed shirt, which hung loosely from her smaller frame. The sight of her naked breasts, the taut nipples, grazing the inside of his crisp white shirt stirred his passion.

She looked into his eyes, checking for any hint of censure, but he simply turned and went down the stairs.