Free Devil in My Arms by Samantha Kane

were green, matching his jacket. There were tiny flowers on the vines. Lavender flowers. Her heart skipped a beat. When she met his gaze she could see that he was thinking the same thing she was. “Yes,” he told her with a raised brow, “we match. Do you suppose everyone is wondering if we did it on purpose?”
    “I sincerely hope not,” she said fervently, turning back to the room and placing her hand on his arm once again. “Your obsession with me is causing enough talk, I’m sure,” she added in a saucy tone.
    “My obsession with you is driving me mad.” His tone was anything but teasing. It was fevered and full of restrained need. She caught her breath and froze for a moment, the shock of what he’d just revealed immobilizing her. Before she could answer, someone hailed her.
    “Mrs. Fairchild?”
    Eleanor turned and saw Mr. Caron standing politely off to the side. She had met the gentleman a few days before at a supper party. “How do you do, Mr. Caron,” she said politely. Thank God for the interruption. Sir Hilary’s passionate confession had once again thrown Eleanor off balance. Her first instinct had been to mirror his admission with one of her own. What a disaster that would have been.
    “Very well, thank you. I was hoping that you would do me the honor of dancing with me,” Mr. Caron asked pleasantly. Eleanor felt Sir Hilary’s arm tense under her hand, though he showed no outward reaction.
    “Hello, Caron,” he said jovially. “How are you?” There was no sign of the ardent seducer at her side a moment ago.
    “Fine, Sir Hilary,” the other man said. “Enjoyed your paper on the feasibility of a municipal police force. Read it in Commons.”
    “Did you?” Sir Hilary asked, obviously pleased. “Splendid.”
    “We shall have to talk more about it,” Mr. Caron said, “later.” He held out his arm to Eleanor.
    “I would like to dance, Mr. Caron,” she replied. “Excuse me, Sir Hilary.” She letgo of his arm and took Mr. Caron’s.
    “I’ve enjoyed our talk very much, Mrs. Fairchild,” Sir Hilary said with a perfectly proper tone and bow. “Perhaps I shall have the pleasure again later this evening?”
    “Of course, Sir Hilary,” she said, piqued that he didn’t seem the least bit jealous of Mr. Caron. “If you are able to find me, I’m sure I shall be able to talk.”
    He never lost sight of her. As soon as Caron was done with her, Hil planned to ask her to dance. He had to wait. She danced with Caron once, and once with some young pup whose name he didn’t remember. Then she walked around with Mrs. Templeton and Mrs. Sharp. She’d finally come to rest not far from where he stood and he took advantage of the opportunity, only to discover as they approached the dance floor that it was a rather lively country dance. “You knew,” he accused her.
    “I knew,” she said, laughter in her voice.
    “We shan’t be able to converse at all,” he told her, annoyed.
    “I know,” she said, and this time she laughed outright.
    Despite her avoidance of conversation yet again, the dance had been pleasant. She was delightful to watch. She enjoyed herself as if she’d never danced before. As they changed partners again and again, he saw more than one man gladly forgive her for their abused toes as she spun and romped. Hil was enchanted. But when the dance ended, she was spirited away yet again.
    Now, halfway through the evening, she was chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Tolliver, an older gentleman and his wife. Tolliver was a complete bore on the subject of breeding hounds, but Eleanor, as he’d privately come to call her, seemed completely entranced. She was doing it just to spite him, of course. She knew he was waiting on her.
    He very much feared he was making a fool of himself. He hadn’t danced with anyone else, though he’d suffered cow’s eyes from most of the young ladies present. It was really quite boorish of him not to have danced with any of them. He usually made a point