Free Heather Graham by Bride of the Wind

a refusal. He took hold of her hand and nearly dragged her out to join the others who had already lined up for the stylish dance.
    It was too late! she thought with panic.
    What was too late?
    She didn’t know. Only that something had begun that day.
    Something over which she had no control …

Chapter IV
    H E BOWED TO HER in the proper manner; she fell back in a slight curtsy. The minstrels in their gallery above the floor continued playing.
    Their fingers touched, and she moved about Pierce DeForte. So far there had been little held back between them. Rose could see no need to do so now. “You might have refused!” she said angrily.
    Dark brows arched. “And what difference would it have made?”
    “It would have kept us from one another’s company.”
    He shrugged, silver eyes suddenly sizzling. “It is a dance, Mistress Woodbine. Nothing more.”
    She smiled very sweetly. “Please, my dear oh-so-arrogant Lord DeForte! Let me allow you to rest assured that I find you quite possibly the most irritating human being I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet, and therefore, a dance, as little as it might be, is most uncomfortable! My opinion of you can hardly matter, of course, since your own is so very high. But you mustn’t feel the least worry over anything you have heard about my father’s desires. I would not marry you, sir, were you the last man to walk on God’s good earth—solitude would be far preferable. There now, milord. Do you feel less threatened?”
    She nearly cried out at the sudden crunch on her fingers. She wasn’t sure if he was amused—or furious. “I hadn’t known that I was threatened. You seem to be the defensive one, Mistress Woodbine.”
    “I am not defensive!” she claimed heatedly. “I just wish to assure you—”
    “But I need no assuring.”
    If she gritted down on her teeth any harder, they would all break, she was certain. “Could we leave the dance floor, Lord DeForte?”
    He smiled. What a fool. She should have never let him see her discomfort. He was enjoying it. He meant to make her suffer. His smile deepened. “The draw of a title truly doesn’t mean a thing?”
    She lifted her chin. “Not to me, milord. I am anxious for one event only—the day I sail home. Perhaps we are backwoods dwellers, as you people here are so quick to call us! But in the colonies, milord, we have come to judge a man by his actions, by his heart, and by his soul, and not by any title that has come to him by some accident of birth.”
    His hold on her eased somewhat. “Ah, so, mistress! What is this fellow’s name, he who holds no title but is so noble in action, heart, and soul?”
    Startled, she nearly missed a beat. Then she stared up at him, amused herself now.
    “There is no man in my life, milord. And though I’m certain that it must amaze you, I much prefer things that way.”
    “But they cannot, and will not, be that way,” he told her.
    Tension swept through her once again. “And just what can you possibly have to say about my life, milord DeForte?” she demanded.
    “Me?” Dark brows shot up. “I don’t imagine much—only that you seem to be living in some fool’s paradise where you consider yourself as lofty as the king—”
    “How dare you!”
    “And as you are such an incredible little—brat!—”
    “DeForte, there is no reason for you to feel obliged to dance with a brat! Let me go—”
    “I’m afraid that I will take great pleasure in trying to explain things to you. Mistress, it is a man’s world. Within this world, you are but a pawn. Perhaps your father has neglected to warn you that he couldn’t possibly allow you to grow old without providing you with male protection. Without matching your fortune to another, thereby assuring your future.”
    Rose’s eyes narrowed furiously. Again she tried to wrench from his grasp, but failed. He did not intend to let her go.
    “If my father has offended you—”
    “Not in the least. I am extremely wealthy, I do