Wild Heart. Lori BrightonЧитать онлайн книгу.
for Grandfather to get well…waiting for her uncle to return home and whisk her away from the orphanage…and now waiting for Leo. It seemed her entire twenty years had revolved around others.
“Mademoiselle Finch,” Jean-Pierre’s deeply accented voice broke into her thoughts.
She turned to see the man standing there with his hands on his slim hips and his narrow face pinched into a tight frown.
“I can wait no longer.”
Her shoulders drooped. “I understand.”
She’d have to explain Leo’s absence to Lord Roberts, and she didn’t know if she could face the hurt in the old man’s eyes. How badly she wanted to walk out of the room, out of the castle. If she left, she and Fran would be without a home or a coin. With a sigh, she started toward the dance instructor. “I’m sorry. There must have been a misunderstanding. Perhaps he thought the lesson was at another time.”
Her necklace hummed under her bodice, growing warm, and she faltered. Automatically, her gaze jumped to the open doors. Leo stood there looking relaxed and unconcerned.
She pressed her hand to the pendant.
Leo.
Blimey, did the necklace react to him? But no, it hadn’t yesterday at the pond. Why else would the pendant grow warm?
His broad shoulders filled out a shirt that hugged his chest, the white linen contrasting against his tanned skin.
“Monsieur,” Jean-Pierre trilled, floating forward with hand extended. “So good to make your acquaintance.”
Leo glanced at the man but didn’t bother to take his hand. After a few moments of awkward silence, Jean-Pierre dropped his arm to his side. “Ah, yes. Shall we begin?”
Ella could scarcely believe he stood there, ready to learn. He’d been late, of course, but he actually came. She gave Leo a hesitant smile. He didn’t respond. She narrowed her eyes and tried to read the man.
Nothing.
His mind was blocked as if he’d built a stone wall around it, enclosing any thoughts.
“Well then.” Jean-Pierre swept away to speak with the woman seated at the pianoforte.
“I didn’t think you would come,” Ella said.
“I wasn’t going to.”
She felt a twinge of annoyance even as curiosity got the better of her. “So why did you?”
He was silent for a moment. Across the room resounded the soft trill of the pianoforte warming.
“Because I made a promise. I am honorable, Ella, no matter what others believe.”
“I never said you—”
Jean-Pierre clapped his hands, the sound echoing across the room. “Come, come, time to practice.”
Leo’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Ella feared he’d throw the dance instructor out the window as he had his paintings that first night. Fortunately, he merely followed Ella to the center of the room.
“Now, shall we start with the waltz?”
Ella turned and faced Leo, so close she could feel his body’s heat, and she wondered for one mad moment what it’d be like to run her hands down his chest. She couldn’t meet his intense gaze for fear he’d read her sinful thoughts, so instead she stared at his neck. But then she saw his pulse beating on the side of his throat and she had the ridiculous desire to lean forward and kiss the spot.
“Eye contact,” Jean-Pierre demanded. Ella’s gaze jumped to their instructor. “Not me, your partner.”
Her attention locked on Leo. In those amber and gold eyes she saw laughter. Her jaw clenched, and her ire grew. Well, let him deal with Jean-Pierre and see how amused he was.
“Arms up,” Jean-Pierre said. “Chins up, no meek misses here.”
Ella lifted her arms, feeling ridiculously like a bird about to take flight.
“Excellent, wonderful. Now, my lord, place your hand on her waist, just like so.”
Leo’s muscled arm pulled her close, and Ella’s necklace grew warmer.
She sucked in a breath, her mind spinning. It had to be him! The necklace must react to Leo’s presence. But why? And why only at certain times?
Leo’s hand rested at the small of her back, right where her vertebrae dipped. She felt every strong curve of his body, and her pulse raced at the contact. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep his scent…a male muskiness combined with the freshness of outdoors…soothing and exciting at the same time.
“Yes, well, not so close.” Jean-Pierre grasped her upper arms and yanked her back. “Now, hand upon his shoulder.”
Ella swallowed hard and rested the tips of her fingers on his broad shoulder.
“Hold hands,” Jean-Pierre declared.
Leo’s long fingers wrapped around her own, sending a shiver over her skin. How she wished she could read the man. And then he looked into her eyes and she wished for nothing, wanted for nothing.
In his arms, she felt small, delicate…nauseous.
“Now, your leg will come forward, like so.” Suddenly, Leo’s muscled thigh, hard and hot, pressed against her hip. Heat rushed through her body and she glanced longingly at the open windows, wishing for a cool breeze.
“Remember, darlings, this is a romantic dance, a sweeping dance,” Jean-Pierre called out. “Step back, Miss Finch.”
Ella stumbled back.
“No! No! Wrong foot!”
Ella stepped forward, and her foot landed directly on Leo’s boot. He quirked a brow, and his eyes sparkled with obvious amusement.
“No, no. Merde!” Jean-Pierre shook his head. “This is what happens when you allow riffraff into cultured society.” His voice was a low mumble, but she heard him all the same. She’d heard worse in Lady Buckley’s home. Apparently, Leo had heard the man too, for his gaze jumped to Jean-Pierre and his hold tightened.
He was angry? For her? She felt ridiculously pleased with that realization. But before Leo did something they’d all regret, Ella stepped back with the correct foot.
“Finally,” Jean-Pierre cried. “Dancing is an art; treat it as such.”
Ella sighed, relieved to have done something right.
“Now, one, two, three…create a box…two, three…turn…two, three.”
Leo swept Ella around in dizzying circles.
“You…you already know how to dance!” she got out in a breathless gasp as he moved her around the room.
“Of course not. I am merely a brilliant pupil.”
The pianoforte struck up a tune. Ella wasn’t sure if she danced correctly or not. Leo was in complete control, and she merely followed his lead.
“Marvelous! Brilliant.” Jean-Pierre cried from across the room. “Just ease up, my lord. You don’t want to eat her. Romantic, soft, not so demanding.”
Leo ignored the man, his gaze continuing to pierce her very soul as he twirled her from corner to corner. With his attention on her, she couldn’t seem to focus on dancing, or much of anything…but him.
“Yes, well, demanding works too, I suppose,” Jean-Pierre muttered.
Ella couldn’t help but laugh. It was ridiculous. She danced in a beautiful ballroom with a handsome man, while a strange Frenchman yelled directions from across the room. Ridiculous, yet lovely.
Her body floated as if she danced on clouds and only Leo’s solid presence anchored her to earth.