The Lost - J. D. Robb [89]
“This is a reel. A popular Regency dance. Follow the lead of the people in costume. It is not difficult to learn.”
It was fun. It reminded Isabelle of square dancing but was more elegantly done. By the time the dancers made their last bows to one another, all were a little out of breath and laughing.
The next tune changed the mood completely. “A waltz,” Sebastian told her, “but a Regency waltz. Much more decorous than a Viennese waltz, but for the people of the early nineteenth century it was very risqué.”
Holding her at arm’s length, Sebastian put a hand at her shoulder and one at her waist. They began to move through the steps and within a minute Isabelle felt as though there were nothing around them, only the two of them in each other’s arms.
Stepping closer to Sebastian, Isabelle used her body to tell him that she was going nowhere, that here was exactly where she wanted to be. She saw the pleased surprise in Sebastian’s eyes, but he still held her as if he were afraid she would run.
Finally he relaxed and sighed, a small sigh that she understood as appreciation for the sweetest of pleasures. Closing her eyes, she drew a mental picture of the two of them alone, dancing through clouds set in a dark velvet sky strewn with diamondlike stars glittering around them. A peek at heaven, she decided, or as close as she could imagine. Yes, she could go on like this forever.
“Forever?” Sebastian said, and Isabelle realized she had said that last out loud. “Not forever, only for as long as the thrill of it lasts. Let me show you.”
Isabelle opened her eyes just as Sebastian kissed her. Oh, this is paradise. To be so closely connected to someone you love, or could love. Like an invitation to the best party imaginable.
Then all thoughts evaporated in a rush of emotion, sensation that bound her to him more completely than the touch of his mouth on hers. Her soul opened to him, her heart begged his and she gave herself to him as fully as she could with her mouth and her hands, and every part of her body that touched him. It was not a branding, but a gift, happily given.
Sebastian did not give as easily. Isabelle realized that as the kiss ended. He straightened, his look of shock changing to fear, or was it pain? He pushed her into the arms of one of the other men.
“Take her, Leo. This one is more than ready for a quick fuck. You won’t even need to take your clothes off.”
Leo grabbed Isabelle from behind, his hands settling on her breasts, his arousal pressing into her buttocks. She could smell the scotch on his breath when he nuzzled her ear. Freeing her arms, she used her elbows to pound into his gut and was more than satisfied when he staggered back, cursing.
“A quick fuck? Is that what you said?” Isabelle could feel her temper cut loose. “You are a disgusting excuse for a gentleman.”
“And you are courting trouble.”
“You don’t scare me.” She proved it by closing the distance between them. She could feel anger, passion, even fear shimmering around him. What was he afraid of?
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her a little. “I should terrify you.”
“But you don’t,” she said gently, her anger fading as she realized what he was worried about. “Not at all.”
“If I took you, you would never be the same.” He was pleading with her. She heard no pride in his voice. “You would be no more than a whore because you would never find as much satisfaction with anyone else.”
“But then, neither would you because what is between us is about more than sex. If you are afraid—” She emphasized the word and paused. “If you are afraid to give more than your body, then we will never be together.”
Sebastian Dushayne had nothing to say. In the silence she could feel his fear disappear, along with his anger and almost all his passion. “Time will tell, my little nun.”
“Why do you call me that?” The description made her more defensive than anything else he had said,