Free Enticing the Earl by Nicole Byrd Page A

instruments, and they were off. With one hand on her waist, the other gripping her hand, and with his firm guidance, and the lilting melody of the music to observe, Lauryn found she was not as lost as she’d feared she would be. In fact, she forgot to think at all; she simply allowed her body to float across the floor, swaying with the earl, who was remarkably light on his feet for such a tall man.
    With his hand at her waist, his firm pressure gave her warning when they were about to turn, or step forward or back. With this help, she soon caught the rhythm of the dance. She felt almost as if she were flying across the dance floor, and she forgot to be afraid of disgracing herself or him and only delighted in the pleasure of the graceful and rhythmic movement.
    When the music faded to an end, she was conscious of a distinct disappointment. The earl spun her once more, then they came to a halt.
    The earl looked down at her sparkling eyes and slightly parted lips. He wanted to kiss her so badly it was a physical pain, made so much worse by having to hold himself back. He became aware that she was speaking.
    â€œYou are a very fine dancer,” she said, smiling up at him. “Thank you for guiding me so well through my first waltz, my lord.”
    â€œYou are more than welcome, my dear,” he told her. “You dance very well, indeed. It was my pleasure.”
    He thought of all the other activities he wanted to guide her through, for the first time, or almost the first time, he rather thought that it might be. He ached to find out! And how long would this damn party last? When could he send these yammering guests upstairs to bed?
    Releasing her with the greatest reluctance, he wiped a drop of perspiration off his forehead and knew it did not come from the effort of the dance.
    The next tune denoted a country dance, and they had to move several paces apart as they flowed in step with the parallel lines of ladies and gentlemen. Lauryn smiled at him from a few paces away, and he smiled back, forgetting the rest of the dancers and almost missing the hand of the woman he had to circle.
    The dance continued, and Marcus had to focus hard to remember the steps, and that was unheard of because Mrs. Smith was quite right: he was a good dancer. But tonight he was in no mood for any dance except the ultimate one of two bare bodies engaged in delightful coupling. His body tingled with the thought, and he had to wrench his speculations away yet again. How many more minutes would this torture continue?
    He was obsessed, he thought. How long had it been since he had felt this way about a woman? Had he ever felt this intently? One thing he knew for certain—if he did not get her alone soon—He should not have even come down. He should have pretended not to be in the residence, his “guests” would likely not have known he had come in—if he had told Carter to keep his mouth shut—a pity his half brother could not keep a confidence!
    As if his thought had conjured him up, when this dance ended, his brother popped up again, and again the contessa was there at his elbow, both unflaggingly cheerful.
    â€œNow may I ask the lady for the pleasure of a dance?” Carter demanded.
    Marcus glared at his brother, and he must have looked murderous because his sibling took a step back. But he didn’t retreat totally, only lowered his voice and continued, “Now look, old man, people are going to talk if you don’t allow her to dance and talk to others. You can’t keep her to yourself all night—might as put her in a golden cage. They’ll have you committed to Bedlam, don’t you know?”
    The earl clenched his jaw, wanting to argue but knowing that Carter, who knew social niceties if nothing else, was right. And he did not want to make her the subject of more talk than she already would be, simply by being here.
    So with grudging agreement, he nodded when his companion said, her voice