Free Tempted at Every Turn by Robyn DeHart Page B

should she do with that?
    She thought she heard Lady Dandridge twitter, but Willow was unable to pull her eyes away from James.
    She rarely danced with men at these functions. Mainly because men rarely asked, but also because those who did were generally twice her age and reeked of alcohol or liniment. Her first instinct was to tell him no, she shouldn’t dance with him. She shouldn’t want to dance with him. But she did.
    Then she realized that the voices around her had ceased and all eyes were on them. She looked around. The smile on his mother’s face was so full of surprise mingled with hope that Willow couldn’t bear to let the woman down. So she did the polite thing and nodded and allowed him to lead her out to the floor.
    “A waltz,” she said numbly.
    “You do know how, do you not, Miss Mabson?” he asked.
    “Of course. I had a proper presentation at court and a coming-out and everything else required of young ladies.” And she did know how, but aside from that first night at Almack’s, she had never waltzed again. Here she was, though, in the arms of the most dashing man in the room.
    She tried desperately not to notice the feel of hiswarm hand at the small of her back. Or the feel of his muscles flexing lightly beneath her hand. Or the rich aroma of sandalwood that was so decidedly masculine, she had to fight not to close her eyes and lean into the scent.
    Instead, she focused intently on counting her steps so she wouldn’t miss one. One, two, three…one, two, three. It wasn’t until he chuckled that she realized she must have been mouthing her counts. And had the sound of his laugh not completely captivated her, she would have boxed his ears. But the rich baritone of his voice and the genuine quality of the laugh made it impossible for her to do anything but smile.
    And then it was he who missed a step, but he recovered so quickly, she almost didn’t notice.
    “You have a lovely smile.” It didn’t sound like a heartfelt compliment, but rather the kind a boy of seven pays when his mother forces him to say something nice to someone.
    “Thank you.” She probably should have said something equally as kind, it seemed only fair to repay a compliment with a compliment, but when it came to forming one, she was at a loss. His smile was nice as well. More than nice, if she were perfectly honest. The dimples imbedded in his stubbled cheeks gave him a mixed look of dangerous man and boyish charm.
    He was precisely the sort of man who wouldmake Charlotte weak in the knees. Why, then, did Willow’s own joints feel so wobbly? She had always been the one unaffected by the charms of men. Had always managed to keep herself collected and calm, and those very skills had enabled her to accept her spinsterhood with ease.
    But here she was, drawn to the man who behaved as he desired rather than as he ought. It seemed a cruel trick of irony that the one man she did not want to want was the only man who seemed to stir her interest. Perhaps that’s all it was: wanting what one couldn’t have. That trick had ensnared poor Eve in the Garden of Eden. It was in a person’s nature to behave in such ways, just as it was within her capability to ignore such longings.
    His hand tensed, pressing into the small of her back. And try as she might, she could not ignore the sensations radiating up her spine. She was right at eye level with his Adam’s apple, more evidence of his masculine nature. The muscles and tendons in his neck tightened ever so slightly and the browned skin beckoned for her to run her fingers over it. She looked at her hand resting against his shoulder and knew if she allowed herself to explore, she’d find more firm muscle just below her fingertips. She swallowed.
    It was foolish for her to try to ignore his body so close to hers, or his hands on her body or hisbreath at her ear. Nor could she ignore the rapid cadence of her heart. She could not have this, she reminded herself. Romance and love, marriage