Guilty pleasures by Laura Lee Guhrke

Author:Laura Lee Guhrke [Guhrke, Laura Lee]
Language: fra
Format: epub
Tags: Historical
ISBN: 9780425234686
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2010-05-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Daphne did not know quite what to expect from her first real dance lesson, but she had thought it would begin with dancing. She was proven wrong at once.

“You want me to what?” she asked, staring at Anthony in astonishment.

“Walk.” He took her arm and ushered her through the doorway to the long corridor outside his childhood room.

“Silly of me,” she murmured, “but I thought I was going to learn to dance.”

“You will, but first I want to study you as you walk.”

That was the last thing Daphne wanted, but when he clasped his hands behind him and started down the long corridor, she fell in step beside him. “To dance well, Miss Wade,” he added, “you must walk well. Dancing, especially the sedate steps of a quadrille, is little more than walking to music.”

They had barely taken a dozen steps before Anthony came to a stop. Daphne paused beside him. “Why did you stop?” she asked.

Instead of answering, he turned toward her and pressed one palm against her diaphragm and the other against the base of her spine. She sucked in a deep, startled gasp at the contact, but he did not appear to notice, for he pressed his palms into her body with the pragmatic comment, “Remember to keep your back straight. Tonight you are not the antiquarian bending over a table of bronze tools or scanning the ground for pieces of clay pots. You are a young lady of fashion out for a leisurely stroll.”

He let his hands fall away, but the warmth of his touch lingered as he continued walking down the corridor, and she felt anything but the proper young lady. She resumed walking as well, but her heart was pounding in her chest as if she had been running.

She was not used to being touched, she told herself. That was all. He had touched her several times now, and the unbelievable pleasure of it always took her by surprise. Just the memory of the odd, melting sensation he could evoke when his fingertips grazed her cheek or he laid his palm against her back set her nerves on edge, for she did not want to feel that way. Not about him.

They strolled up and down the long length of the room countless times, their conversation minimal but for an occasional word of correction from him. Chin up, shoulders back, slow down.

She did not look at him, and in her peripheral vision, he was a blur along the edge of her glasses, but she could feel him watching her. When it seemed as if they had traveled the length of the corridor a thousand times, he stopped her.

“Excellent, Miss Wade,” he said, as they returned to the room where they had begun. “You have a certain natural grace. No doubt you will dance well. But I advise you to wear stays. It will aid you in maintaining perfect posture. Besides, if you do not wear them, I fear you will shock your partner when he puts his hand on your waist for a waltz.

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