Authors: Regina Scott
La Petite Four (21 page)
Emily nodded again. Where were her good intentions? She wanted to stand here, drinking in the sight of him, talking to him about anything, everything. “So you came in disguise tonight hoping to catch him.”
“In part,” he said. “But in truth, I had to come.”
Emily made a face. “I suppose I did sound rather cryptic in my note. I didn’t want to tell you that I planned to expose Lord Robert. I wanted you to see it, to know that I . . .”
He strode to her side and took her hands in his. “You what, Lady Emily?”
She couldn’t say it, couldn’t risk it. Not when she was certain he had no feelings for her besides a reluctant admiration. Or did he? He had given her one clue. Perhaps she should do some investigating of her own.
“I wanted to know what you meant by your note about the ball,” she said. “There was the little matter of an L.”
“An L?” He sounded surprised.
“An L,” she insisted. “Just before your initials. I could not determine what it meant.”
He was quiet for a moment, which she knew meant he was choosing his words with care. Finally, he said, “Most people would take it as a time notation, placed as it was next to the nine. L for later.”
“Ah,” she said, feeling foolish. “Of course.” Was it too late to crawl away and cry?
“A few, however,” he continued, a smile in his voice, “might take it as a description. L for longingly.”
“Oh,” she said, her heartbeat speeding.
“And the bold ones,” he finished, leaning closer and lowering his voice, “might take it one step further. Let’s say, L for lovingly.”
Emily swallowed. “I’ve been known to be bold.”
“I would have wagered my life on it. And that’s why I had to come to the ball, Emily. I had to tell you that I love you. The other night, at the dinner party when I thought I’d lost you to Lord Robert, I lashed out. I’m sorry.”
“You had a right,” she protested. “I hadn’t realized that I was using you. I just wanted to catch him so badly.”
“I know that now. Tonight, when I saw the painting of your mother, I knew you couldn’t love someone like Lord Robert. Yet I nearly lost you to him again.”
Inside, the musicians struck up a waltz. The sound floated over them, lilting. Her heart floated right along with it.
“You couldn’t lose me, Jamie. I love you too.”
His smile captured her heart and held it gently. “Dance with me?”
She nodded, too full of joy to speak. He wrapped one hand around hers and rested the other above her waist, holding her in his embrace. Emily’s hand trembled as she placed it on his broad shoulder. His gaze met hers, solemn.
And they began to move in time to the music, backward, forward, turn. She knew the steps. The last time she’d practiced them, she’d been partnering Daphne.
This was nothing like partnering Daphne.
His touch was sure, his steps smooth. She was constantly aware of how close he was, how near their bodies. His arm brushed her chest as they moved; her cheek grazed his as they turned. With his gaze on hers, she felt more beautiful than Priscilla, more graceful than Daphne on horseback, as brilliant as Ariadne. She knew there was nothing she couldn’t do.
Emily never wanted the music to stop, but stop it did. His steps slowed, and she slowed as well, sliding her hand down his strong arm. He caught it and brought both of her hands to his chest, tender, reverent. Mesmerized, she willed him to bend closer, to bridge the distance between his lips and hers.
And he did.
She closed her eyes, let herself feel the sweet pressure. Time seemed to stop, to stretch. When he drew back, he sounded as breathless as she felt.
“You should go in,” he murmured with a touch to her cheek.
“They’ll all be looking for you.”
She didn’t want to go, not now, not ever. She just wanted to be here with him. But that couldn’t be. He was right. She had responsibilities, duties, the Royal Society to join, an entire Season to enjoy.
“When will I see you again?” she asked, suddenly afraid.
His smile was a promise. “Soon.”
She smiled back. “Then, until later, Jamie.”
He grinned. “Until later, Emily.”
She held his hand a moment longer, then stepped away from him to return to the ball. Surely there would be other dances, other kisses with the man she loved. Some might even be better than this.
She could only dream.
The End
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