Six Australian Heroes. Margaret WayЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ she objected. ‘One can but maybe not that well, for example. One—’
‘Forgive me for interrupting but I can’t imagine any finishing-school worth its salt sending you out without that skill.’
She stared into his eyes with a tinge of exasperation. ‘That’s a long time ago. I—’
But this time he put his finger to her lips and drew her into his arms.
They danced well together. Too well together, she came to think as she felt his body against hers, his hand on her waist. It was heady stuff.
She’d have liked to be able to stare over his shoulder but her gaze took to roaming over his thick, short dark hair and she wondered how it would feel to run her fingers through it. Then she found the strong, tanned line of his throat fascinating and, although her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, she could feel the play of his muscles through the stuff of his shirt and the fine silk and mohair of his jacket, and it produced a little thrill of sensation down her body.
That got worse, or more thrilling, as she thought of his lean, hard body only in his swimming shorts as she’d seen it earlier. He’d smelt of sweat then and leather and chalk. Now there was a hint of an astringent cologne and fresh linen, but whichever, she thought with a little trip of surprise she immediately corrected, he was potently attractive to her.
There was still another sensation to deal with. She recalled the mastery of the way he drove his powerful car and the embarrassing comparison it had brought to mind; his mastery over her body in bed.
They definitely weren’t in bed but it was his direction, his expert handling of her as they danced that was making her feel as light as gossamer and open to the rhythm of the music. She felt undoubtedly sexy as she moved, not only her feet, but also her body to the beat.
‘You didn’t honestly believe you weren’t any good at this?’ he queried as her skirt and her hair belled out and he held her around the waist with both hands.
‘I—that wasn’t the point I was trying to make,’ she replied breathlessly.
‘Granted.’ He smiled sardonically, pulled her back into his arms and spoke into her ear. ‘You were trying to come up with a way to get out of dancing with me. But you’re more than a good dancer, Rhiannon.’
‘Actually, I’m surprised,’ she confessed. ‘It’s been so long, I did think I’d be all thumbs or whatever the equivalent it is with feet. Must be like riding a bicycle.’
‘Why has it been so long?’
‘All sorts of reasons!’ she said lightly.
‘No, tell me,’ he insisted, and he slowed the tempo deliberately so that they were barely moving and she was pressed against him with his arms wrapped around her back and his hands on her hips.
‘You … you can’t make me.’ She bit her lip as she felt his breath on her neck.
He eyed the flush of exertion in her cheeks and the faint dew of sweat just below her hairline. He noted the slight quiver of her lips and felt the tremors running through her body, the look of surprised uncertainty in her eyes.
He had no need to question the effect on him of her skin and her perfume.
He said, ‘I don’t need to make you. When two people affect each other the way we do, surely we have to talk about it?’
Rhiannon tried to think straight. The music had moved to another powerful beat but he danced them to the spot where they’d watched the moon rise earlier, where the level of noise was not so high and they could talk more normally.
She stared over his shoulder for a moment. The area they’d left was crowded and the coloured strobe lights the DJ had set up were turning people pink, purple and green.
Mary danced by in the arms of a stranger, no longer turquoise but orange then magenta, still obviously in her element.
Then Andrea drifted past in the arms of a distinguished, silver-haired man, causing her to think briefly about Lee and Andrea. The dislike they felt for each other was almost tangible in the way they so blatantly avoided each other.
She took a deep breath. ‘I got really close to a man once. We were engaged and due to get married but it became apparent that I wasn’t the heiress he thought I would be so he broke it off. To complicate matters, after he did that I discovered I was pregnant, although I subsequently miscarried.’ She paused.
‘I wondered about that,’ he said quietly.
Her eyes widened. ‘How could you possibly.?’
‘You spoke about the mood swings pregnancy can bring as if from experience. Two nights ago, in the kitchen,’ he added.
‘Oh. Yes, I suppose I did.’ She looked away. ‘Anyway, it turned me right off—no,’ she said as he moved, ‘I wasn’t going to say men; it turned me right off trusting physical attractions, not to mention my own judgement. So—’
‘You must have been a lot younger, Rhiannon,’ he broke in. ‘I’m not saying it wouldn’t have been painful but—’
It was her turn to break in. ‘I was twenty-one, and if the level of pain I went through was anything to go by, I’d be mad ever to let it happen to me again.’
He studied the shadows in her eyes but at the same time the imperious tilt of her chin. ‘There could have been extenuating circumstances that made it all—all the more catastrophic for you. Your mother, your father.’
‘Perhaps,’ she conceded, ‘but if I ever do marry …’
His lips twisted. ‘I’m glad to hear you haven’t entirely struck it off your agenda.’
‘If I do,’ Rhiannon heard herself say, ‘it will only be to someone who could never hurt me like that again. Obviously, someone I like and trust, someone who had the potential to build a good life with me, some common ground, but I won’t be expecting him to fall madly in love with me and I certainly won’t do that either.’
He cupped her shoulders in his hands. ‘That sounds like a declaration of independence worthy of a nation let alone a girl.’
‘Mr Richardson—Lee,’ Rhiannon chose her words with care and she strove to keep her expression neutral, ‘I’m not interested in casual affairs and the only reason I’m here is to do a job. N-now,’ her voice wobbled slightly for the first time, ‘now we’ve sorted that out, I intend to go back to doing that job. Please excuse me.’ And she slipped out of his grasp and away.
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