Free Waking Up With the Duke by Lorraine Heath Page B

duke. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her chest tightened as though her corset had suddenly shrunk. “As we discussed previously,” she replied, “I do not dance.”
    “Of course you dance, Jayne,” Walfort said.
    “Darling.” She shook her head.
    “I’ve made you uncomfortable with Ainsley, have I? With my proposal—”
    “No, I—”
    “I only want you to be happy. You always smiled so much when you danced. Please, Jayne, I’ve taken so much from you. Don’t let the list include your love of dancing.”
    Blast Ainsley for putting her on the spot like this, more for being right, that she was punishing Walfort by denying herself the pleasures he could no longer enjoy.
    “Oh, all right, then.” She forced a smile. “Your Grace, I would be honored to dance with you.”
    As if on cue, the music faded away, quickly followed by the lilting strains of a waltz. As she rose to her feet and placed her hand on Ainsley’s arm, she didn’t wish to acknowledge the strength she felt there or the excitement that thrummed through her. She would not anticipate the next few moments. She would simply endure them.
    “I do not appreciate the position in which you placed me,” she said cuttingly as they moved away from her husband. “You know I did not wish to dance.”
    “If you truly didn’t wish to, you’d have never accepted.”
    She eyed him sharply. “You do not know me well enough to know what I wish for.”
    But when he took her in his arms and swept her over the dance floor, a thrill shot through her that she could not deny. She had so loved dancing: the graceful movements, the music inhabiting her soul in ways it could not when she was merely a spectator. And Ainsley, damn him, was particularly talented when it came to leading her. He held her the proper distance away from him, and yet it was as though they were one, without a misstep. His gaze never once strayed from her, as though she were the only one who mattered.
    “Do not seek to charm me,” she uttered.
    “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
    They circled the floor in silence, and she was aware of others watching them. She ignored them.
    “Relax, Jayne,” he said quietly. “And smile. If not for me, then for Walfort. As I’ve said before, by not finding pleasure where you can, you punish him, cause him to suffer.”
    “I suppose you think I should embrace that plan of his.”
    “On the contrary, I’m having a difficult time understanding it. If you were mine, I would kill any man who touched you. Obviously, he loves you a great deal. So smile for him, sweetheart. Pretend he is holding you now.”
    “You’re nothing at all like him.”
    “Which is the reason I suggested you pretend. Close your eyes if you like.”
    Only she didn’t want to close her eyes. She wanted to catch sight of the other couples dancing. She wanted to see the glitter of the chandeliers. She wanted to see the flames reflecting off his black hair. As sinful, as awful, as selfish as it was, she wanted to see the appreciation in his green eyes as he waltzed with her.
    Perhaps he was pretending as well, but she didn’t care. For a few moments she felt young and carefree again. Hope for a bright future soared in her heart. Joy filled her. She wasn’t gossiping with the matrons. She wasn’t envying the young girls.
    She despised the corner of her heart that embraced the prick of jealousy, that knew they had their entire lives filled with promise ahead of them, while she often felt that hers was over.
    She was making too much of this, she told herself. It was simply a dance. She could have another if she wanted, yet she suspected that Ainsley had spoiled her for anyone else. Would the same occur if she embraced Walfort’s ridiculous plan? If she took Ainsley into her bed—for a single night—would he spoil her for future lovers, make her discontent for whomever she chose? A silly thought, as Walfort was correct: she would never take a lover, would never betray him. Just