Silence Breaking

45. Silence Broken, Words Spoken

I stared at him.

And then I stared at him some more.

Finally, Mr Ambrose cocked his head. 'An answer, Miss Linton?'

'Now?' My voice was half-growl, half-whisper. 'You've had the whole evening to ask me to dance, and you choose to do it now?'

'Yes.'

'Yes? Yes? That's all you've got to say for yourself?'

'Yes.'

And before I could think of a comeback to that magnificent statement, he had captured my arm with his and was leading me off to the dancefloor.

'Hey!' I protested. 'I haven't said yes, yet!'

Mr Ambrose gave me a cold look that told me he read more into my words than just one dance. 'I know.'

Oh dear...

He was angry. The kind of arctic anger which only Mr Ambrose and a Canadian blizzard were capable of. And in his anger, he was only more beautiful.

'The last dance, My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen!' The liveried servant in front of the musicians clapped his hands and stepped into the shadows.

Mr Ambrose held out his hand to me. Before I could think about it, my fingers had already closed around his.

What is happening? He's been an arse to me! Why should I do this? Why should I...

The remainder of that question slipped out of my mind when I was whirled around with consummate skill, and dipped back. A strong arm came up behind me to catch me just before I fell. Breathing hard, I gazed up into the stunningly perfect face of Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

'Shall we?'

I felt as if I were dreaming. Only...was this a dream or a nightmare? Was he only doing this to humiliate me further? To get his revenge for my refusal?

But it wasn't revenge I saw burning in his eyes. It was the cold fire of desire.

'I feel that I am making an objectively true statement,' he whispered, 'when I say that you look beautiful.' His eyes slid up and down my form, caressing every curve, and I shivered under his scrutiny. 'Especially in that dress.'

Ah yes. The dress.

I felt heat burn in the tips of my ears. Suddenly, my choice of gown didn't seem like such a good idea anymore.

'Adaira picked it,' I hurriedly asserted. Well, it was mostly true.

'Indeed?' He leaned forward, his gaze becoming somehow even more intense. My knees felt as if they would buckle any second. 'And did she decide on that colour, too?'

'No,' I muttered, glancing down at the ball gown that was a fascinatingly deep, dark sea-coloured shade somewhere between blue, green and grey – the exact same colour as his eyes. 'That was my decision.'

'I see.' So quickly I had no time to protest, he pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it. When it was over, the only evidence it had ever happened was the burning brand on the back of my hand. Tingles travelled up my arm, and somehow, it felt as if I'd been permanently marked. 'It's...adequate.'

'Why, thank you so much for the compliment, Sir.'

'You're welcome, Miss Linton.'

The musicians struck the first notes of the dance. Breathless, I felt Mr Ambrose's arms tighten around me. He was really going to do it. He was going to dance with me.