Rose in Bloom (Sex and the Season #2) - Helen Hardt Page 0,3

Mr. Price,” Rose said, forcing herself not to stammer. “This conversation would be better served if we were both in our right minds.”

Cameron tentatively reached toward her arm and touched her lightly with his finger. A spark shot through Rose at the contact.

“I may have imbibed a bit more than usual, my lady,” he said. “But I assure you, I am in my right mind. I asked you a question. Would you have danced with me?”

“I…don’t know. It wouldn’t really be appropriate.”

Cameron snorted again. “Of course. What would the other peers have thought if you, the daughter of the Earl of Ashford, were seen dancing with a commoner? Pardon, not just a commoner, but a tenant on your brother-in-law’s land.” He turned away from her. “Good evening, my lady.”

Rose’s heart hurt. She had wanted to dance with him. She had dreamed of more than that. Of kissing him the way she kissed Evan. Of doing…more than kissing. “Wait, Mr. Price.”

He turned. “What is it?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes, what?”

She gulped. “Yes. I would have danced with you.”

He walked back to her and brushed back a stray curl. Her skin burned where he touched her.

“Will you dance with me now?”

“It’s nearly time for the meal.” Rose swallowed. “The orchestra is taking a break. I…we should go in.”

“Please. Dance with me.”

Her heart hammered against her chest. “There’s no music.”

He cupped her cheek. “We don’t need music. You and I together have it in our souls.”

“Mr. Price…”

“Come with me.” He took her arm and led her to the stairs of the terrace.

Rose looked around quickly. They were alone. Completely alone. The other couples on the terrace must have gone in to be seated for the meal. Cameron pulled her down the stairs and out onto the soft grass of the lawn. He led her away from the torchlights to a dark crevice where only the light of the crescent moon veiled them in a lustrous cloak.

“Dance with me,” he said, taking her into her arms. He led her left hand to his shoulder and pulled her to him. “Look at me.”

She gazed up into his sterling eyes, the moonlight illuminating his handsome face and casting highlights into his coal-black hair. He looked like a pagan god come to earth to deflower an innocent maiden. Her heart raced and fear coursed through her, but she didn’t look away. He began moving in a slow waltz, leading her around the lawn in intricate steps that surprised her.

“You dance very well, Mr. Price,” she said.

“Yes, we common folk dance too,” he said, a bit sardonically.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh.” He pulled her closer.

She laid her cheek on his shoulder and inhaled his salty cinnamon scent. She closed her eyes, the pulse of his throat racing against her forehead, her own heart thumping madly. Being in his arms at last felt wonderful. Too wonderful. She started to pull away.

“No,” he said, resisting her. “Stay with me. We haven’t finished our dance.”

She relented, melting into him. He stopped waltzing and simply swayed gently. To finally embrace him, feel him against her, filled Rose with joy and agony. If only this moment could last a lifetime.

Slowly he pulled away from her, just slightly. With one hand, he tilted her chin up and gazed into her eyes. Her lips trembled, but she knew what he wanted. She wanted it too. His mouth descended until his lips were on hers.

Rose knew how to kiss. Evan had taught her well. She parted her lips and Cameron’s tongue invaded her mouth, tasting her gently, slowly. He withdrew his tongue and brushed it delicately over her lips. She sighed softly and tentatively reached her own tongue out to explore the fullness of his lips. They were softer than Evan’s, and she felt a surge in her womb that was new to her. Frightened, she turned her head away. His lips caressed her cheeks, her neck, nibbling and nuzzling her until she shivered.

“We should go in.”

“No. Not yet,” Cameron said. “I know I can never have you. I need at least this much of you. Please.”

She turned and sought his mouth with her own. This time the kiss wasn’t gentle. Cameron clamped onto her, absorbing her. He swirled his tongue with hers, tasting her, taking her. He tasted of champagne and tea, passion and lust. She wanted to kiss him forever, to lose herself in his strong body. He moved from her mouth to her ear, tracing its outer edge with his tongue and dipping into its cove just