The Untamed Earl (11 page)

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, pushing the tip of one slipper against the parquet floor. “I'm usually quite proficient at dancing. I don't know why I'm so clumsy today.”
Yes, I do. I'm clumsy because you're gorgeous and I'm distracted by the thought of sticking my nose in your cravat and sniffing you.

Owen chuckled. “You're still nervous, if I don't miss my guess.”

“I suppose I am. A bit.” She dropped her gaze to her slippers.
Nervous because you're so dastardly handsome, which is hardly my fault.

He contemplated her for a moment. “You say your sister is fond of alcohol. How do you feel about the stuff? Besides port, I mean. Say, champagne?”

“I adore it!” She clapped her hand over her mouth. That had been far too emphatic and completely unladylike. Another reason her mother informed her regularly that she would be hard-pressed to find a decent suitor. “A true lady drinks only one glass, Alexandra,” her mother liked to say. Wouldn't her mother have a fit if she knew Alex liked to sneak into the study and tipple the port?

Instead of giving her a reproachful look or arching a brow, Owen threw back his head and laughed. “I'm glad to hear it. You're a lady after my own heart. Wait here.” He jogged across the floor and was gone out the door in an instant.

Alex waited with bated breath. She repeated “A lady after my own heart” in a rushed whisper—while trying to keep from squealing—so many times that the words began to lose their meaning and became a happy jumbled ball in her mouth.

When Owen returned minutes later, he was holding two champagne flutes. He crossed back over the wide parquet floor and handed one to Alex with both a flourish and a gallant bow. “My lady,” he said. “It's not port, but I've always found that a bit of alcohol loosens the inhibitions, makes for less nervousness in dancing … and other things.”

Alex felt her cheeks heat again. That sounded positively wicked. She liked it. A lot. If she were going to continue spending any amount of time in Owen's company, she really must learn to stop blushing. Why, her face might remain a permanent shade of pink, and then she'd look like Lavinia's bedchamber. An unhappy comparison to be sure. Alex readily brought the glass Owen had handed her to her lips and downed half of it while Owen watched with eyes both wide and approving.

“That's the spirit,” he said with a laugh. He took a healthy sip from his own flute before plucking the glass from Alex's fingers and setting both on the nearby table. “Now, how do you feel?”

“Fine. No different, I—”

But she did feel different. The bubbly warmth of the champagne was already making its delicious fuzzy way to her belly … and her head. “Oh, I … I feel quite good.”

“Excellent,” he replied with his most appealing grin, his dimple making a welcome appearance in his cheek. “Care to try again?” He held out his hands and she stepped into the circle of his arms.

“Yes, please,” she said with a vigorous nod.

He spun her around and around, humming again, and Alex's head felt positively light. Light and delightful. She slowly blinked. Oh, this was quite fun. Dancing around a deserted ballroom with the man of her dreams, an extremely pleasant way to spend the afternoon. Much better than paying calls to Mama's friends, practicing embroidery for the thousandth time, or hoping that Lavinia's temper stayed in check so that she might take a nap without shrill screeches waking her.

“Does Lavinia like to dance?” Owen asked as they spun around the room.

Oh, why did he have to go and ruin the moment by mentioning Lavinia?
I love to dance.
“Yes, she enjoys it immensely.”
When it's over.
“You must be certain to ask her … often,” Alex added for good measure.

“I'm pleased to hear she enjoys it. I've always been quite fond of it myself. Though admittedly not usually at
ton
balls.”

It was on the tip of Alex's tongue to ask where he liked to dance, but the answer might be far too shocking and far too disappointing for her. Instead she closed her eyes and enjoyed the lightness of her head and the feel of the man beneath her fingertips. How shocking would it be if she rubbed his shoulder a bit? Just to outline his muscles and—

“Not nervous?” he asked.

She nearly tripped but caught herself in time to smile up at him dreamily. “Not a bit.”

Minutes later, she realized she was actually doing quite well at dancing. It was as if her feet were moving of their own accord and she floated across the room. But then again, she'd never had such a debonair partner. Perhaps Owen was the reason the dancing was good. It was entirely unfair of him to be so handsome
and
good at dancing. She hummed along with him to the beautiful waltz. It took a few moments before she realized that it was the same one that had been playing the night she'd seen him beneath her window. She giggled to herself.

“What's so funny?” he asked, studying her face.

“I like champagne,” she replied, not about to tell him the truth.

“So do I.” He winked at her, and an unexpected warmth spread through her limbs. She was suddenly quite aware of the feel of his hand on hers and of his broad shoulder beneath her fingertips. The weight of his other hand along her waist was positively burning.

“You're learning quickly,” he said, spinning her again.

“I wasn't aware that I'd learned anything yet.”

“You should keep smiling, laugh at my jests. It's quite alluring, I assure you. But if I go too far, you should slap my shoulder and look at me out of the corners of your eyes with a mixture of warning and challenge.”

“Oh?” Had she been
alluring
? How? She wanted to do it again. And the bit about slapping his shoulder and looking out of the corners of her eyes … it all seemed far too complicated to keep straight. Who knew there was an entirely different set of things to learn that had nothing to do with the steps of the dance? Her mother had certainly never mentioned such things.

“You should seem perfectly at ease with every partner,” Owen continued. “Look around now and then at the other dancers. You mustn't seem too taken with the gentleman you're with.”

Alex swallowed. If he only knew
how
taken she was with the gentleman she was with. She forced herself to glance around at the other invisible dancers.

“That's good. Keep the smile pinned to your face,” he prodded.

She widened the smile that had begun to droop a bit when she'd looked away from him, until she began to feel like a grinning fool.

“What else?” she asked, wishing the dance, the entire afternoon, actually, would not have to come to an end.

Owen finished humming the song and drew their dance to an end. He took one step back, and his arms fell away from her, breaking their contact. “Would you be my partner again?” he asked.

“Of course.” She held out her arms and stepped forward, quite willing to resume their dancing.

“No,” he said, stepping back again. “That was a test.”

Alex frowned. “A test?”

“You must never agree to two dances in a row with the same gentleman. It makes you seem far too interested, not to mention the potential gossip. Always keep your partner wanting more.”

“So I can't dance with you again?” Surely, the look on her face surely was crestfallen.

“You can,” he replied with a grin. “But not right away. You should always keep a gentleman guessing as to whether you'll say yes again.”

“Then what should I say if I'm asked?”

“Say, ‘perhaps,'” he replied. “And say it while walking away and glancing back over your shoulder like this.” Owen turned and did an impression of a female batting her eyelashes and walking away that made Alex giggle so hard, she worried about ripping the seams of her gown.

She tried unsuccessfully to stifle her laughter at that bit of advice. The champagne was making her giggle. Not good. She must concentrate on the lesson. A master was teaching her, after all. This was priceless information. Not to mention the delicious irony that he was teaching her what to do to snare
his
attention. She practiced by turning sharply away from him and turning back, her chin tucked to her shoulder, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. A dark curl flew over her shoulder.

“Please, Lady Alexandra,” Owen said. “Promise me you'll dance with me again tonight.” He held out his hand in supplication.

Alex wanted to fall at his feet and shout, “Yes! Please!” But instead she batted her eyelashes some more and waved an imaginary fan in her gloved hand. “I cannot possibly commit to such a promise, my lord. I must consult my dancing card. I fear it is too full, as my dances are greatly in demand.” She pressed her lips together hard to keep from laughing more. “My dancing card has never been full, by the by,” she added.

“Never admit it, dear girl,” he said with a wicked grin that made Alex feel like she'd been kissed by the sun. She sighed heavily and stared up at him.

“How was that for a first lesson?” she asked.

“Quite good,” he replied. “A bit too good, perhaps.”

Alex wasn't certain what he meant by that, but it sounded promising.

“Do you think you have the right of it?” he asked.

Alex bit her lip. How many opportunities would she have to dance with him so closely in a secluded ballroom? Only an imbecile would cut short such good fortune. “Not quite,” she managed to reply with a straight face, also deciding to completely ignore the fact that she had the pressing need to use the convenience after drinking the champagne. She held out her arms to him and did her best to seem businesslike. “I'd like for you to show me again, please.”

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Today I'm going to teach you how to be flirtatious,” Owen announced the next afternoon as soon as Alex had entered Cass's ballroom. Alex was wearing a bright pink gown and looked fresh and pretty as a poppy.

“Flirtatious?” Alex echoed. “I don't think my mother would appreciate that. But at least I remembered to bring my fan today.”

He cocked his head to the side. She was a funny little thing. She was full of contrasts but never ceased to make him laugh. He had dressed himself with special care again—black top boots, buckskin breeches, blue waistcoat, perfectly starched white cravat—and had ensured that he arrived on time for the second day in a row. Quite a habit he was making, this “being prompt” business. It seemed Alex was bringing out the best in him.

“Of course your mother wouldn't appreciate it,” he replied. “But it will draw the eye of many a gentleman. If done correctly, that is.”

“I see,” Alex said. “How exactly is it done correctly? I thought that was what yesterday's eyelash batting was accomplishing.”

Owen laughed aloud at that. “Partly, yes, but there is a bit more to it. Flirtation is both a skill and an art.”

“An art?” Alexandra echoed, stepping closer to him. “I quite like the sound of that.” Her hair was swept up in a fetching chignon, and her strawberry scent was ever present. Coupled with her pink gown, she reminded him of a ripe little fruit.

“It's a trick, really.” Owen walked around her, assessing her from head to toe. “You are an innocent, so obviously you cannot be as flirtatious as, say, some of the ladies with whom I've been known to keep company.”

Alex snorted. “I'm excessively glad to hear that.”

His lips cracked into a grin. “Do I sense judgment in that answer, my lady?”

She shook her head, and one large, dark curl flew over her shoulder. “Oh. No. Not at all, my lord.” But the way she drew out the words and overemphasized them indicated her sarcasm. That, along with a bit of overly fluttery eyelash batting.

He eyed her up and down again. My, but she was appealing. He wished for the dozenth time that it was her and not her sister whom his father insisted he marry. Marriage to Alex might not be entirely … unpleasant. He shook his head to clear it of such unhelpful thoughts.

“Very well,” Alex replied. “Teach me how to be flirtatious, then. What do I need to know?”

Owen circled her, his hands folded behind his back. “It's about wordplay, coy looks, the hint of a smile on your lips.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Alex said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I usually say all the wrong things and I'm not certain I'd know a coy look if it bit me upon the ankle. I suppose I could try the ‘hint of a smile' part. That doesn't sound terribly difficult.”

God, she was honest. It was completely refreshing. But also completely a detriment if she meant to be sought after on the marriage mart.

“I think you'll see what I mean if we try it,” Owen said. “Dance with me, and let's put it into action.”

Before she had a chance to respond, he pulled her into his arms. “You look ravishing tonight, Lady Alexandra.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “‘Ravishing' is a strong word, my lord.”

“It's apt.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She slapped him on the shoulder with her fan.

“Will it get you to agree to have a drink with me?” he asked, leaning down closer to her lips.

“Certainly not.” She gave him a stern stare.

“Well done,” he breathed, not wanting to pull away. “Now, let's see how you react when a suitor is a bit too forward.”

He pulled her up against his chest and moved his face even closer to hers. His hands were at her waist. Alex's head tipped back and her eyes were hooded and for the moment, a split second, Owen actually had the desire to … kiss her. She gazed up at him with those dark orbs. “Yes,” she breathed.

He pushed her away to arm's length again, hoping against hope that she hadn't felt the stark evidence of his body's reaction to her lush form pressed against his belly.