Chapter 10 #2
He placed one warm hand on the curve of her waist and used the other to guide her hand to rest on his shoulder. He took her free hand in his, and just like that, they were standing almost nose-to-nose, ready to dance.
Well, it was more like nose-to-chest, really, on account of Tristan being so much taller than she was. Madeline stared up at him, feeling the full weight of his gaze upon her. It stole her breath in a way she had not expected.
“Ready?” he said, grinning and tilting his head.
“I… I think so,” Madeline whispered.
“Then we’ll begin.”
He began to dance, his steps slow and carefully measured. Madeline followed his lead, clinging to his hand and shoulder. It would be mortifying if she stepped on his feet, even if only with her thin satin slippers.
He kept his eyes on her, a faint smile playing about his lips. The dance was simple. Madeline remembered that when she was learning it, she was told to move in a square, gradually turning around in a long line of other dancers.
Have I ever waltzed with a man? No, I don’t think that I have.
“You aren’t enjoying our wedding, are you?” Tristan asked softly. His words, gentle as they were, seemed to break the spell. They also simultaneously sent a flutter of something through the pit of her stomach. Madeline shivered.
“I am not,” she confessed, “but it seems as though everybody else is.”
He took a step back, lifting his arm so she could spin gently beneath it. She did so, and the world blurred around her.
“I only care if you are enjoying yourself, my dear,” he whispered, so quietly that she barely heard him.
This caused Madeline to lose her balance, tottering to the side.
He grabbed her arms, pulling her close to him.
Without thinking, Madeline put out a hand to steady herself, and that hand landed directly on Tristan’s chest.
They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. She could feel the warmth of his skin, could feel his heart thumping beneath her palm.
“I have more rules,” she managed breathlessly.
Tristan’s gaze darkened, and he leaned a little closer. “Oh?” he breathed. “Do tell.”
She swallowed, willing herself to press on.
“We have decided to live our own lives, yes? That is fair. However, we should both be mindful of our reputations. For Adam’s sake.”
“Darling, I believe you know my reputation.”
“I mean that we must not embarrass each other,” Madeline responded, frowning. “We do not want Adam to grow up with a cloud over his head. We don’t want everybody to know that his guardians loathe each other. I want him to have a happy, carefree life.”
“As do we both. Your suggestion to achieve this?”
She breathed out, forcing herself to meet his eyes. That shiver rolled down her spine when she did so, but she made herself continue.
“We’ll have an appearance of faithfulness,” she managed at last. “You may do as you like, of course, but be discreet about it. We must be seen to like each other. We must… must share outings.”
“Outings? Heavens,” Tristan laughed. He leaned closer, grinning. “What else should we share?”
Color flooded Madeline’s cheeks, and she pulled away abruptly.
“You are reckless!” she snapped. It was the worst insult she could think of at that moment, and it did not seem to hit its mark. Tristan gave a hoot of laughter.
“Reckless? Why, what a horrid word. Am I really?”
“You are teasing me again.”
“I am afraid so. It is a terminal condition, one I cannot help. Are you surprised that I am a reckless teaser?”
Madeline bit her lip, glancing away. She felt the urge to laugh, but knew that it would only encourage him.
“No,” she mumbled.
“Well, if it helps,” Tristan remarked idly, taking a step closer, “you are not at all how I imagined you to be.”
She lifted her chin. “Oh, so you have imagined me, have you? Tell me, how did you imagine me to be?”
He chuckled. “As somebody who would pull away when I do this.”
Before she could respond to his strange remark, he took a stride toward her, cupped her chin in his long fingers, and turned her face up to his.
Then he kissed her.
Madeline had not, of course, been kissed before. Ladies weren’t. They shared their first kiss on their wedding day, watched by half of society.
This kiss was something else. His lips were warm and tasted faintly of champagne.
His fingers on her skin seemed to burn, but somehow in a good way.
Ripples of heat shot through her chest, pooling in her gut and plunging downwards.
In fact, the sensation seemed to pulse between her legs, which was a shocking state of affairs and surely could be nothing that a lady would ever feel.
Not a proper one, at least.
Her hand had found his chest, firm muscle shifting underneath, and Madeline had a sudden, powerful urge to slide her hand upwards, curving around his shoulders. She could touch the tantalizing stretch of skin above his collar, even push her fingers into his hair…
No, no, no!
This was not how it was meant to be.
With a strangled gasp, Madeline pushed him away, staggering backward.
He made no attempt to hold her in place.
She stared up at him, hand lifting reflexively toward her lips, which felt more tender and sensitive than she had ever known them before.
Tristan watched her almost curiously. There was no color in his cheeks, and his breath came coolly and evenly.
Oh, heavens, Madeline thought faintly. What am I doing?