control and trust a man to guide her for this fleeting moment in time. She began to hum with the music, eyes sliding closed, lips curving in a smile.
For this brief instant, she wasn’t Harry Devering’s long-neglected widow or Meg’s companion or the daughter of General George Northcott. She was simply a woman—a woman who had gone too long without being touched by a man. Oh, the sensations were exquisite, and she never wanted this waltz to end.
Garrett relished the feel of her in his arms. It had been nearly a year since he’d held a woman who was not his sister, and he was enjoying the experience immensely. Her head just reached his shoulder, making them a perfect fit from chest to thighs. He watched her face as she relaxed in his arms, saw the pleasure spread across her delicate features as her eyes closed, and she began to hum with the music. A small smile curved her lips.
Desire flared hotter. Her expression resembled that of a woman who had just been thoroughly made love to, and suddenly he could imagine her lying on the bed amid tangled sheets, thosetoffee-colored curls spread across the pillows, that very smile of satisfaction on her lips.
Oh, yes, and he could imagine every touch, every kiss, that would bring that smile to her face. He slid his hand more firmly around her waist, longing to pull her closer.
Eventually they would be alone. And then…Going to London no longer seemed so intolerable with the prospect of enticing her into his bed.
Lucinda’s eyes drifted open, and she gave him a sincere smile of pure enjoyment. He couldn’t help but smile back and whirled her in a turn that made her laugh out loud. Her eyes glowed, and she tightened her fingers on his shoulder as he swept her into another turn.
Dear God, he had to have her.
She must have seen something in his face, because her smile faded. She held his gaze as the tension rose between them.
He slowed, making every movement a seduction, every step a caress. He squeezed her waist, watching the awareness slip into her eyes. Her lips parted, and he swept her into another turn, pressing his body against hers for the merest instant before allowing the proper distance between them again.
Lucinda felt as if he were making love to her through the waltz.
His intent expression, his blue eyes focused sofiercely on her face, as if willing her to fall under his spell…The brief brush of his body against hers, so carefully orchestrated that no one but she was aware of it, all bespoke his feelings.
He wanted her.
The knowledge made her heart pound and her head spin. Men had shown interest in her before, but this was the first time she had wanted one back.
She had to get control of herself. Had to rein in her emotions. This could not happen!
But how could she resist those blue eyes, the color of a cloudless sky, looking at her as if he could see her soul? How could she ignore the alluring power of his body, the ease with which he guided her through the dance? How could she not notice those broad shoulders that seemed capable of taking on innumerable burdens with ridiculous ease? His hands, strong enough to crush her bones but gentle enough to hold a newborn kitten? The clean scent of man that tempted her to taste his sun-kissed skin?
How was a woman supposed to resist a man who loved his sister so fiercely that he would sail halfway around the world to be with her?
She couldn’t stop the emotions that flooded her, the longing and the wanting and the sheer pleasure-pain of feeling again. He had brought her back to life. Somehow, with one dance, thisAmerican with the work-roughened hands and the summer-blue eyes had resurrected the spirit of the woman she had once been.
She wanted, fiercely. She desired, hungrily. And had she been any other woman in any other circumstance, she would have taken the handsome American to her bed—knowing he would leave her, but also knowing that somehow he would unlock the prison where her spirit had resided these
For this brief instant, she wasn’t Harry Devering’s long-neglected widow or Meg’s companion or the daughter of General George Northcott. She was simply a woman—a woman who had gone too long without being touched by a man. Oh, the sensations were exquisite, and she never wanted this waltz to end.
Garrett relished the feel of her in his arms. It had been nearly a year since he’d held a woman who was not his sister, and he was enjoying the experience immensely. Her head just reached his shoulder, making them a perfect fit from chest to thighs. He watched her face as she relaxed in his arms, saw the pleasure spread across her delicate features as her eyes closed, and she began to hum with the music. A small smile curved her lips.
Desire flared hotter. Her expression resembled that of a woman who had just been thoroughly made love to, and suddenly he could imagine her lying on the bed amid tangled sheets, thosetoffee-colored curls spread across the pillows, that very smile of satisfaction on her lips.
Oh, yes, and he could imagine every touch, every kiss, that would bring that smile to her face. He slid his hand more firmly around her waist, longing to pull her closer.
Eventually they would be alone. And then…Going to London no longer seemed so intolerable with the prospect of enticing her into his bed.
Lucinda’s eyes drifted open, and she gave him a sincere smile of pure enjoyment. He couldn’t help but smile back and whirled her in a turn that made her laugh out loud. Her eyes glowed, and she tightened her fingers on his shoulder as he swept her into another turn.
Dear God, he had to have her.
She must have seen something in his face, because her smile faded. She held his gaze as the tension rose between them.
He slowed, making every movement a seduction, every step a caress. He squeezed her waist, watching the awareness slip into her eyes. Her lips parted, and he swept her into another turn, pressing his body against hers for the merest instant before allowing the proper distance between them again.
Lucinda felt as if he were making love to her through the waltz.
His intent expression, his blue eyes focused sofiercely on her face, as if willing her to fall under his spell…The brief brush of his body against hers, so carefully orchestrated that no one but she was aware of it, all bespoke his feelings.
He wanted her.
The knowledge made her heart pound and her head spin. Men had shown interest in her before, but this was the first time she had wanted one back.
She had to get control of herself. Had to rein in her emotions. This could not happen!
But how could she resist those blue eyes, the color of a cloudless sky, looking at her as if he could see her soul? How could she ignore the alluring power of his body, the ease with which he guided her through the dance? How could she not notice those broad shoulders that seemed capable of taking on innumerable burdens with ridiculous ease? His hands, strong enough to crush her bones but gentle enough to hold a newborn kitten? The clean scent of man that tempted her to taste his sun-kissed skin?
How was a woman supposed to resist a man who loved his sister so fiercely that he would sail halfway around the world to be with her?
She couldn’t stop the emotions that flooded her, the longing and the wanting and the sheer pleasure-pain of feeling again. He had brought her back to life. Somehow, with one dance, thisAmerican with the work-roughened hands and the summer-blue eyes had resurrected the spirit of the woman she had once been.
She wanted, fiercely. She desired, hungrily. And had she been any other woman in any other circumstance, she would have taken the handsome American to her bed—knowing he would leave her, but also knowing that somehow he would unlock the prison where her spirit had resided these
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