Did Birch and Locke notice how bright the smile she flashed him was? Did they notice that she blushed at his request? Her feelings for him were fathoms deeper than what she felt for either Birch or Locke, and it was all Brahm could do not to crow about it.
"The first waltz is yours, Lord Creed."
He bowed and took his leave so he would not have to watch her accompany Locke to the center of the ballroom for the first set. He could accept that she had to adhere to social niceties. He could accept that as hostess certain things were expected of her. That did not mean he had to watch another man put his hands on her.
He had not gone far when Lady Dumont intercepted him.
"Lord Creed, how delightful of you to join us this evening."
Brahm arched a brow. "Was there any question of my attendance?"
The older woman fanned the generous cleavage revealed by the neckline of her pink gown with a delicate matching fan. She was a little old for such a girlish color, but somehow it suited her. "Why, yes. We all assumed that since you were indisposed last evening, you would be tonight as well." Her gaze dropped pointedly to his leg when she spoke. Or was it his groin that she seemed to find so fascinating? Ever since Fanny Carson's damn book, the women at this party had spent more time looking at his crotch than his face.
"A little stiffness was my only ailment last evening," he informed her. "I do appreciate your concern, however."
Her blue eyes brightened. Hell, he should have known better than to use the word "stiffness" in her presence.
"Well, if you are struck by a similar affliction tonight, please let me know if I might offer my assistance in bringing you relief."
God deliver him from randy dowagers. "I do not believe that will be necessary, but thank you."
Lady Dumont raked him with another predatory gaze. "Pity. You know where to find me if you change your mind. Enjoy the evening, my lord."
And with that she sashayed toward another group, leaving Brahm feeling slightly dazed in her wake. What a strange woman. He was really going to have to ask Wynthrope about her sometime. Perhaps it was strangeness that had brought her and his brother together. Lord knew Wyn was odd enough.
He made his way to the upper corner of the room where the orchestra was hidden beneath a strategically placed folding screen. Hiding the musicians gave the impression of magic, he supposed, as the music appeared to come from nowhere. He waited there for what felt like an eternity. As they were about to begin playing the second dance, he requested a waltz for the third. He was not waiting any longer than he had to for Eleanor's attention. Neither his patience nor his leg was going to last the entire night.
By the time the second dance had ended, he was standing almost exactly where he had been when he had left her, waiting for Birch to return her to her sisters. Birch did just that, but the fair lord seemed reluctant to leave the lady's side so that another partner might claim her. Brahm counted to ten and then made his move.
The first strains of the waltz were just starting as he made his presence known. "Birch, my good man. Thank you for watching over Lady Eleanor for me; now do be a good boy and hold this."
The shock on Birch's face as Brahm shoved his cane into his hand might have been laughable if he hadn't managed to awaken a very jealous side of Brahm's personality. Eleanor was
his
. If Locke and Birch and the others wanted to make fools of themselves trying to win her, they were welcome to do it, but not when it was Brahm's turn to have her for a few moments.
He didn't wait for Birch's reaction, but took hold of Eleanor's arm and led her out onto the floor as she stared at him in stunned silence. When they were where he wanted to be, he turned and opened his arms to her. "Forgive me if I am not as graceful as I once was."
Warily she stepped into his arms, placing one hand in his and the other on his shoulder. His free hand settled on the small of her back. He wanted to haul her flush against him, but that would not do, not at all. He would have to content himself with the scent of her, the sight of her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
"You're holding me closer than is proper," she informed him as he slowly drew her through the first turn. Forget graceful, he wasn't as quick on his feet as he used to be either. He had to be careful. One wrong step and he would end up on his arse— with Eleanor on top of him.
That just might be worth the humiliation of falling.
"I'm not proper." He turned her again. She followed him effortlessly, already attuned to the pattern of his steps, the way he compensated for his leg. It was just one more thing that convinced him they were perfect for each other.
"So I noticed." Her gaze locked with his, blue eyes rife with censure. "It was rude of you to chase Lord Birch off like that."
How motherly she sounded. That might work on her sisters, but not with him. He shrugged. "It was rude of him to monopolize you as he was."
"Monopolize?" Her tone was incredulous as they turned again. "We were having a perfectly innocent conversation."
Innocent, eh? "About what?"
Her lips pursed. "None of your business."
He pulled her closer, causing her to stiffen in alarm. Her gaze darted around them, horrified that someone might be watching. He stepped back once more. "About what?"
She wasn't pleased with him at all. "About cattle."
"Cattle?" Surely he hadn't heard correctly. What kind of man was foolish enough to use time with Eleanor— even if other dancers were present— to discuss livestock?
The wild flush that spread up her neck and cheeks told him that his hearing was impeccable. "Yes. He wanted to know if I like horses. He breeds them, you know."
Brahm could not fight the grin that spread across his face. "I know."
Her eyes narrowed. "You needn't look so smug. You have never asked me if I like horses."
He shrugged. "I do not have to. I know that you do not."
Ah, he had startled her with that tidbit. "I know more about you than you think I do, Eleanor. I know it because I pay attention, because I want to know everything about you. You might do well to remember that."
She fell silent, and he knew she was wondering what else he had discovered about her. Not as much as he wanted. One hundred years would not be enough time to learn all he wanted to know about Eleanor.
When the waltz ended he led Eleanor back to her sisters and requested the next waltz. Once Eleanor agreed, he took his cane from Birch, who was waiting to request another dance as well, and walked away. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, but he didn't want to seem too eager. He would not have the other guests refer to him as Eleanor's lapdog. Let Locke and Birch earn that title.
He left her with her sisters after the second waltz as well, and he gave her plenty of room during supper. He didn't need to crowd her to have an effect on her. More than once he caught her watching him, or searching the crowd for someone, only to look so relieved when her gaze settled on him. He knew she compared the other bachelors to him, it was only natural. She compared them all to one another. He also knew that for whatever reason, she preferred him over the others. He didn't question why, he simply gave thanks for it.
He also gave thanks for the narrowing of her bright eyes every time she saw him talking to another woman. That was what she got for flitting off with her bachelors and leaving him alone.
During a later set he watched as she crept out onto the patio for a breath of air, and he followed after her. It wasn't proper behavior, but as he had told her earlier, he wasn't proper.
He found her leaning against the granite balustrade, her face lifted to the gentle evening breeze. A colorful lantern hung from a post beside her, illuminating her delightful features. Such an unusual beauty was hers.
"You should not be out here alone," he chastised as he approached. His leg was beginning to ache again. He was fortunate to have made it this far. All he asked was that it held out a little while longer.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, her smile one of amusement. "You should not be out here alone with me."
He grinned as he propped his arm on the railing beside her. "True. What do you suggest we do about it?"
Eleanor sighed. "I suppose one of us should return inside."
Brahm raised his hand to her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. Her skin was so amazingly soft. "We could stay out here."
Her eyelids fluttered, thick dark lashes like delicate wings. "Brahm, you shouldn't. If anyone sees us— "
"Shh." He stroked her temple with his thumb. "Just let me touch you for a moment."
Their gazes locked as she acquiesced. She was as still as a frightened doe, and just as hesitant, but she was his— at least for the moment.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his fingers trailing down her cheek to brush the petal-soft curve of her upper lip. "The ache in my leg is nothing compared to the ache in my heart when I look at you."
She gasped, her mouth parting softly. Her breath was warm and moist against his fingers, a humid temptation he could not resist. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. She tasted of her own special sweetness and wine. The latter he didn't notice until his mouth was firmly clamped to hers, tongue stroking hers. He shivered at the taste, but it wasn't the wine that had his heart pounding and his body demanding more. It was Eleanor— only Eleanor.
He pulled back, gasping. He had promised her nothing more than a touch. This was not the time or the place for anything more, not when any number of people could happen upon them at any moment.
They stared at each other, mere inches separating their bodies. Heat engulfed them both. Eleanor's eyes were heavy lidded and slightly glazed. She hadn't wanted him to stop kissing her any more than he had wanted it. Good Lord, when the two of them finally made it to a bedroom, he was going to combust with need.
"I'm sorry," he rasped. "I should have had more control."
She licked her lips as she nodded. He wanted to lick them as well. "It is all right."
From inside, the familiar notes signaled the beginning of yet another waltz. This was the opening he had been waiting for. After this his leg could give out completely for all he cared.
"Dance with me." Taking her hand in his, he tugged gently.
She didn't budge, but shook her head. "I cannot."
Another tug. "Why?"
"You know why." Her expression told him not to be so foolish, as did her tone. "What will people say?"
"Do you care?"
Her eyes snapped with indignation as she pulled her fingers free of his. "Of course!"
Brahm was not put off. He leaned closer, brushing the delicate rim of her ear with his mouth as he whispered, "Liar."
She pulled away, but not before a shudder raced through her. "I beg your pardon?"
The smile that tilted his mouth on one side was smug. "If you truly cared what people would say you would have made certain your father didn't permit me to stay at this party."
She wasn't impressed with his amusement at her expense. "I tried to make him force you to leave, but he wouldn't budge."
Brahm laughed. Of course she had tried. But she obviously hadn't tried hard enough, a fact that warmed him. "Come dance with me, and ignore whatever people say. This is your house, you can dance with whomever you want."
He tried to tug her away from the balustrade, but she dug in her heels. "It will be our third dance. You have danced with few others. It will look as though you have laid claim to me."
He met her gaze squarely, honestly. "I have danced with no others, and declaring my intentions is exactly what I wish to do." How could she not have seen where this was leading? How could she not have known what he wanted? Unless he had been wrong in thinking she wanted it too?
Her eyes were as wide as saucers, bright as aqua-marines in the night. "I…"
He held up his cane. "You do not have to say a word." In fact, he wasn't certain he wanted to hear what she had to say. "Just this once, throw propriety to the wind and indulge me. It has been so long since I have been able to dance this much." No, he was not above using guilt to get his way.
Ultimately he did get his way. He had known he would. She could have walked away from him, but she didn't want to do that any more than he did. Eleanor allowed him to escort her into the ballroom and onto the floor. She was going to give him his third dance. It had to mean something, because she knew as well as he did that, come the morning, everyone would be talking about it. Everyone would know that he wanted to marry her, and that Eleanor had as good as given her consent.
* * *
Long after the ball ended, Eleanor lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, reliving parts of the evening in her mind— all the parts that had to do with Brahm.
