Behind her, where Tony had been standing, shadows moved, then a hand gently grasped Elizabeth's elbow, and a deep, husky voice said near her ear, "Dance with me, Elizabeth."
Shock stiffened her body, slamming against the barricade of numbness that Elizabeth was trying to keep intact. Still gazing straight ahead, she said very calmly and politely, "Would you do me a great service?"
"Anything," he agreed.
"Go away. And stay away."
"Anything," he amended with a solemn smile in his voice, "but that."
She felt him move closer behind her, and the nervous quaking she'd conquered hours before jarred through her again, awakening her senses from their blissful anesthesia. His fingers lightly caressed her arm, and he bent his head closer to hers. "Dance with me."
In the arbor two years ago, when he had spoken those words, Elizabeth had let him take her in his arms. Tonight, despite the fact that she was no longer being totally ostracized, she was still teetering on the edge of scandal, and she shook her head. "I don't think that would be wise."
"Nothing we've ever done has been wise. Let's not spoil our score."
Elizabeth shook her head, refusing to turn, but the pressure on her elbow increased until she had no choice. "I insist."
Reluctantly she turned and looked at him. "Why?"
"Because," he said, smiling tenderly into his eyes, "I've already danced seven dances, all of them with ugly women of unimpeachable reputations, so that I'd be able to ask you, without causing more gossip to hurt you."
The words, as well as his softness, made her wary. "What do you mean by the last part of that?"
"I know what happened to you after the weekend we were together," he said gently. "Your Lucinda laid it all out for Duncan. Don't look so hurt-the only thing she did wrong was to tell Duncan rather than me."
The Ian Thornton who was talking to her tonight was almost achingly familiar; he was the man she'd met two years ago.
"Come inside with me," he urged, increasing the pressure on her elbow, "and I'll begin making it up to you.
Shock stiffened her body, slamming against the barricade of numbness that Elizabeth was trying to keep intact. Still gazing straight ahead, she said very calmly and politely, "Would you do me a great service?"
"Anything," he agreed.
"Go away. And stay away."
"Anything," he amended with a solemn smile in his voice, "but that."
She felt him move closer behind her, and the nervous quaking she'd conquered hours before jarred through her again, awakening her senses from their blissful anesthesia. His fingers lightly caressed her arm, and he bent his head closer to hers. "Dance with me."
In the arbor two years ago, when he had spoken those words, Elizabeth had let him take her in his arms. Tonight, despite the fact that she was no longer being totally ostracized, she was still teetering on the edge of scandal, and she shook her head. "I don't think that would be wise."
"Nothing we've ever done has been wise. Let's not spoil our score."
Elizabeth shook her head, refusing to turn, but the pressure on her elbow increased until she had no choice. "I insist."
Reluctantly she turned and looked at him. "Why?"
"Because," he said, smiling tenderly into his eyes, "I've already danced seven dances, all of them with ugly women of unimpeachable reputations, so that I'd be able to ask you, without causing more gossip to hurt you."
The words, as well as his softness, made her wary. "What do you mean by the last part of that?"
"I know what happened to you after the weekend we were together," he said gently. "Your Lucinda laid it all out for Duncan. Don't look so hurt-the only thing she did wrong was to tell Duncan rather than me."
The Ian Thornton who was talking to her tonight was almost achingly familiar; he was the man she'd met two years ago.
"Come inside with me," he urged, increasing the pressure on her elbow, "and I'll begin making it up to you.
( Judith McNaught )
[ Almost Heaven ]
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