Free Where The Heart Leads by Stephanie Laurens Page A

of power, of control, of harnessed energy he brought to the simple revolutions of the waltz.
    Far from being freed, she was caught, trapped.
    And despite it being precisely not what she’d wanted, she found her lips curving more genuinely, found herself relaxing into his loose embrace as she accepted that yes, he could waltz. That yes, she could give herself over to his mastery and simply enjoy.
    It had been so long since she’d taken pleasure in a waltz.
    His blue eyes searched her face, then his lips quirked. “You obviously changed your mind and paid attention to your dance master.”
    “Luc, my brother. He was a dictatorial taskmaster.” She gave herself one more moment to enjoy the sensation of floating around the floor, of his strong thighs brushing her skirts as they whirled, before asking, “Now, at last, we can complete our conversation. So what was it you wanted to know?”
    Barnaby looked down into her wide brown eyes, and wondered why she hadn’t wanted to waltz. “I was going to suggest that if you could identify any other boys who might be orphaned in the near future and who met the kidnappers’ criteria, we might put a watch on them, both to identify the kidnappers if they come calling and, ultimately, to protect the boys from being snatched.”
    She blinked. Her eyes widened. “Yes, of course. What an excellent idea!” She breathed the words as if being visited by revelation. Then she snapped free and briskly took charge. “I’ll go through the files tomorrow. If I find any possible candidate—”
    “I’ll meet you at the Foundling House tomorrow morning.” He smiled. Intently. If she thought he was going to let her loose on the hunt, she would need to think again. “We can go through the files together.”
    She eyed him as if evaluating her chances of dismissing his offer, yet he was quite sure she understood it was no offer, but a statement of fact. Eventually, her lips—forever distracting—eased. “Very well. Shall we say eleven o’clock?”
    He inclined his head. “And we’ll see what we can find.”
    Looking up, he whirled her through a turn, then started back up the room. Another glance at her face confirmed she was enjoying the dance as much as he.
    She was, even in this, the antithesis of the norm. Most young ladies were tentative; even when they were excellent dancers they were passive, not just allowing but relying on a gentleman to steer them around the floor. Penelope had no truck with passivity—not even during a waltz. Even though, after those first few steps, she’d consented to him leading, the fluid tension that invested her slender limbs, the energy with which she matched his stride, made the dance a shared endeavor, an activity to which they both contributed, making the experience a mutual, shared pleasure.
    He would happily dance half the night with her…
    Abruptly, he hauled his mind off the track of considering what different dances they might indulge in. That wasn’t why he was waltzing with her. She was Luc Ashford’s sister, and his association with her was purely driven by his investigation.
    Wasn’t it?
    He looked down at her face as he swirled her to a halt—at those ruby lips slightly parted, at her lovely eyes and the madonnalike face that no amount of severe grooming would ever disguise—and wondered just how truthful he was being.
    How willfully blind.
    She stepped out of his arms. He let them fall and smiled—charmingly. “Thank you.”
    Smiling in return, she inclined her head. “You waltz very well—much better than I’d expected.”
    He noted the dimple in her left cheek. “I’m delighted to have been of service.”
    She chuckled at the dry reply.
    Taking her hand, he set it on his sleeve and turned her toward the drawing room. “Come—I’ll return you to your mother. And then I must leave.”
    He did. As he walked from the drawing room, he felt a certain contentment from his evening’s entertainment—something he very definitely