The Taste of Innocence Read Online Free PDF Page A

Augusta, and his brother Jeremy, who had just entered and were greeting their hostess. “No.” Turning back, he met her eyes. “My decision is my own. Awakening their interest will only make ‘getting to know each other better’ more difficult.” His lips quirked. “That said, they’re far from blind—they’ll guess soon enough. I assume your sisters don’t know?”
    “If they did, Clary would be hanging on your arm.”
    “In that case, let’s pray for continued obliviousness.” He glanced around, over the heads. “It appears it’s time for the first dance—shall we?”
    Charlie offered his arm as the introductory chords of a cotillion welled; he would have preferred a waltz, but he wasn’t about to stand aside and watch some other gentleman dance first with Sarah. With a nod of acceptance, she placed her hand on his sleeve. As he steered her through the guests in the direction of the dining room, to night cleared to accommodate the dancing, he was once again conscious of matters not progressing quite as he’d expected, of being just a trifle off balance, of having to adjust.
    To her. She was the source of the tilt in his world, the point from which the ripples in his plans originated.
    That afternoon he’d been distracted by having to deal with her demand for a period of courtship; only once he’d left her and was riding home had it struck him how far from his original script they’d strayed. He’d fully expected to be an affianced man by that point; he’d expected her to accept him without question.
    Instead…he’d encountered something he hadn’t anticipated, something strong enough to not change his direction but replot his course. Even as he turned her and they took their positions in the set, arms raised, fingers twined, he was conscious of a certain strength in her, a fluid supple quality, true, yet something he’d be unwise to ignore. However…
    The music swelled and they moved into the figures, dipping, swaying, circling, coming together, then gliding apart; with his attention locked on her, on her face, on her graceful figure, he was aware to his bones just how entrancing she was, just how much her svelte curves lured him—even if they concealed steel. Or was it because of that?
    She twirled; gazes locking, they moved in concert, then opposition, only to glide together again, side by side, arms brushing. Senses reaching, touching.
    Meeting, meshing. Held, commanded, by her cornflower-blue eyes, he felt the intangible caress of the sensual tendrils nascent desire sent weaving between them, twining and twirling as the music steered them through the intricate steps. As he retook her hand and their fingers interlinked, he all but felt the net draw close, and tighten. Drawing them nearer as the dance did the same, as he circled her, their eyes linked, and the beat escalated and his pulse responded—and he saw desire rise and swirl through her eyes.
    Abruptly he looked away, then drew in a deep breath. Rapidly reasserted his will and reassembled his wits.
    He was more attracted to her than he’d anticipated; that was undeniable. Her unexpected resistance to accepting his suit had focused his attention in a way he hadn’t forseen.
    It was, he told himself, the scent of the chase, spurred on by that alluring taste of innocence—something he was keen to savor again. Once he’d gained her agreement, her hand, and her, no doubt his burgeoning fascination would fade.
    But that time was not yet.
    The dance concluded. He raised her from her curtsy; the movement left them closer than they had been to that point.
    Closer than they had been since the moment in her parents’ drawing room when he’d kissed her.
    Her eyes, wide, were raised to his. He looked into them, and the impulse to kiss her flared again, stronger, more compelling. For one finite instant there was no other in the room, only them. Her gaze lowered to his lips; hers parted.
    They stood in the center of a dance floor surrounded by