By Maya Rodale
Miss Prudence Merryweather and Viscount Castleton find themselves stranded at a country in...with secrets. There is only one thing to do: he asks her to dance.
“Just one dance…that is all,” Castleton said. “I promise I won’t get any ideas.”
Prudence gazed up at him. Too bad she couldn’t explain why she was so hesitant. She was wasting her life, letting this fear hold her back. There was a handsome man before her, who had shown her nothing but kindness, and all he wanted was a dance. The truth was: she yearned in her heart of hearts to dance with him.
“All right,” she said softly.
The last time she placed her hand in another man’s it was the beginning of the end.
They began to dance.
She did not, as she feared, forget the steps. Hours and hours of her life spent practicing them so when this moment came—waltzing in the arms of a handsome man—she could move in time to the music without counting to three and so she could look into smoldering gaze instead of at her feet.
Prue forced her breath to be even. In. Out. In. Out. She willed her heart to beat in a steady rhythm as she tried to reclaim power over her emotions and fears.
Castleton’s gaze settled on her face. She peered up at him. This time she really looked at him focusing on his mouth, which was firm, sensual and smiling encouragingly.
“Are you having fun yet?” Castleton asked her affectionately.
Her gaze flew up to his. Ah, those eyes. Knowing. Dark.