Chapter Twenty

Morvoren

Sir Roger de Coverley, which Morvoren had at least heard of, seemed very complicated indeed. She watched Ysella and Sam, the latter a little red-faced and self-conscious, as they skipped about pretending the chairs were three other couples. They had to do a lot of crossing over the center and swinging one another around, and Sam became more and more rosy cheeked as they went.

"And now they all skip around behind us," Ysella called breathlessly. "But you'll have to imagine that, because the chairs can't do it."

At last, she came to a halt and released Sam's hand. He took a diffident step back and hung his head. Not hard to see why. Here was a young man deeply smitten by Ysella's many youthful charms. A young man who, thanks to his station in life, would not be considered suitable to pay court to her. And he knew it.

"Now you two try, doing exactly as we did," Ysella instructed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Can you play more slowly do you think, Jacko? So Miss Morvoren doesn't need to dance as quickly as Sam and I did?"

Old Jacko touched his forelock again, his expression saying he could do anything if it were Miss Ysella asking.

So, Kit and Morvoren tried. Or rather, he danced and Morvoren tried. He was very elegant, which was just as well, as Morvoren had the horrible feeling she was anything but. How complicated it was remembering which way to go, which hand to put out, and to skip jauntily at the same time. She kept going wrong, despite Ysella's called instructions. It was worse than riding a dressage test.

Ysella clapped her hands and Old Jacko stopped his playing. "Perhaps you should just walk through the steps first, Kitto, for Morvoren to learn them. Both you and the music are going too fast and confusing her, I fear."

Too right. Morvoren bit her lip. "It's no good," she said on a sigh. "I'm never going to learn this in time for the ball. The steps are far too complicated. I'll have to be a wallflower." Not to mention the terrifying prospect at the back of her mind that she might have to dance these fancy steps with strangers.

Ysella shook her head in determination. "You don't need to worry about going wrong—lots of people make mistakes and nobody ever notices. And the more you practice, the better you'll get at it. I promise. Try again. Come on, Kit."

Under Ysella's garbled instruction, Morvoren walked through the movements slowly, with Kit but no music, repeating the steps until she had in her head what she needed to do. Every time his hand touched hers, though, that same flush of excitement shot through her. If only they were alone, and dancing the sort of dance where he could take her in his arms… Heat rose up her neck and cheeks at the thought of him doing that, and she had to concentrate hard on her steps to avoid tripping up.

A quick glance up at Kit's face told her that he, too, was blushing. Could he be experiencing the same feelings she was? If only. No. She was only here in his world temporarily. She'd surely be going back to her own time at some point and she couldn't allow herself to become involved with someone from 1811. No matter how handsome he was. And besides which, she wasn't even sure he liked her. The color in his cheeks could be due to exasperation at the length of time she was taking to learn these simple steps.

Old Jacko began to play again. Off they danced. As they came together, he smiled down at her in what could only be encouragement. "There. That's better now you're more familiar with the steps." A lock of his hair had fallen over his forehead making him even more devastatingly handsome than ever. How she'd like to reach up and brush it back for him.

She tripped over her feet.

No. She had to stop thinking about him like that. Concentrate. The more she did this, the easier it would become. Unfortunately, as the music sped up, she began to get lost, got in a panic and forgot which hand to take and which way she was supposed to go. She stopped, and Kit halted as well. "Don't keep thinking about it so much," he said, no doubt in an attempt to be helpful. "Just dance."

Morvoren forced a smile. "Easier said than done."

But Ysella seemed satisfied. "Now we'll all dance together," she declared, removing one pair of chairs. "We'll be the couples at either end and, this time, we have to be careful not to bump into each other as we twirl in the center. We need to take it in turns but stay as close together as possible. Off we go."

She must have been a born optimist.

Having two couples dancing at the same time turned out to be a nightmare. Ysella had made it sound so easy, but it was not. If only they could have danced more slowly, but Old Jacko seemed to have it in for Morvoren, and the tempo of the fiddle music was fast and bouncy as he kept up with the other three dancers. They had to skip through their steps at some speed, which meant, as Morvoren kept forgetting which way she was supposed to be going and what to do next, they kept on bumping into one another. And the more they did that, the more Ysella giggled, which made it even harder to concentrate.

"It's no good," Morvoren managed as they stopped for a rest, all of them breathing hard from the exertion. "I'm never going to get this right."

Ysella was fanning her pink face with her hand. "Of course you will. This is only the first day, don't forget. By the end of the week, you'll have every dance to perfection." She glanced at Kit and Sam who were taking off their jackets over by the window, which they'd opened. "And Kit is such a good dancer that he can disguise any mistakes you make." She frowned. "Although he'll only be able to dance with you once, of course. It's not done to dance with someone twice. Important to remember that."

What? Morvoren had been counting on the few dances she was able to do being with Kit. And now it seemed she could only dance one with him and would have to be partnered in any others by strangers. In that case, she'd just have her one dance with Kit and sit the others out.

"Do you never dance the waltz?" Morvoren asked. She'd gone to dance club at university for a term and it had been the only dance she'd mastered.

Ysella's eyes widened in shock. "Of course not. That would be too vulgar for words. We're not allowed to dance the waltz." Her eyes took on a naughty twinkle. "Although I can't deny it would be quite something to dance in a gentleman's arms." She sighed. "But terribly forward." She lowered her voice. "I have heard it said that ladies of ill repute will consent to dance the waltz with gentlemen."

Morvoren glanced again at Kit, wondering what it would be like to dance in his arms. A frisson ran down her back and settled south of her stomach. What would it be like to lie in his arms, preferably with both of them naked?

Ysella waved a hand at Old Jacko. "I think we'll do this all over again."

Distracted from her lustful thoughts, Morvoren turned back to the dance.

To start with, both Sam and Kit managed to keep straight-faced and stiff upper-lipped, trying to make up for the mistakes Morvoren was making and Ysella's rising laughter. But with Ysella reeling as though she were drunk every time Morvoren managed to bump into her, which was often, and Morvoren forgetting how many times they were supposed to swing one another around, which hand to offer up and which way to actually swing, very soon the faces of both their partners began to slip. And Old Jacko was openly chuckling to himself as he played.

Somewhere around the twentieth, or maybe the thirtieth, time Morvoren went wrong and trod on one of Kit's feet, everything went to pieces. This time they all managed to bump into one another in the middle and instead of just staggering, they collapsed in a giggling heap onto the polished wooden floor of the music room. Jacko stopped playing and hid his face behind his hands, his shoulders shaking. He probably didn't often see his master in such a situation.

Morvoren sat up and peeped at Kit. His normally serious face had broken into a wide grin which transformed his austere good looks into disturbingly dazzling handsomeness. He was chuckling to himself, as was Sam. Although Sam was also pink with embarrassment as Ysella had managed to collapse on top of him and was reclining almost in his lap with no indication that she intended to get up. Poor young man. He didn't know where to put his hands.

Kit sat up, the chuckle becoming a full-throated laugh. "Ysella, you are utterly incorrigible, and very bad at teaching dancing," he managed, shoulders shaking. "What will people think at the ball if we are all four of us taking part in Sir Roger de Coverley and this happens again?"

Ysella extracted herself from Sam's lap, levering herself up with a hand on his thigh that brought a richer scarlet to his cheeks. "Then we shall laugh just as we are laughing here." She giggled. "For I swear, brother, it is so good to see you can still do it. I was despairing of seeing you even smile these last few days. I thought you had forgotten how and would never again be the fun Kit I love so well."

Sam struggled to his feet, puce by now. "I am so sorry, Miss Ysella. So clumsy of me. Here, let me help you up." He pulled her upright.

Kit's eyes met Morvoren's, dancing with the same love of mischief as his sister's. "I declare," he said, "you might well be the worst dancer I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, Morvoren." But he wasn't angry.

Morvoren smiled back at him, her heart thundering in her chest far faster and louder than it should have been at such a backhanded compliment.

"I shall be perfectly fine," she managed, despite her suddenly dry throat, "so long as I'm not partnered with you, as clearly my two left feet do not match at all well with a perfect pair. I shall need to find a gentleman with two right feet for dancing and then I shall be well matched."

Kit laughed again. "I wish you good luck with that endeavor!"

Ysella reached a hand down to where they both still sat on the floor. "Nonsense," she said. "All you need is practice. Come, we have the Cotillion to try yet and then the Boulanger. No time to waste."

*

Kit

Kit couldn't believehe'd let his guard down like this. It must have been the influence of Ysella who never seemed to have her guard up. But there was no changing it now, and he didn't believe he wanted to. A warm flush of happiness had suffused his insides at the sight of Morvoren so plainly enjoying herself as she learned to dance, and when they'd fallen to the floor and her soft body had just for a moment rested against his, his whole being had flamed with a desire he hadn't felt for some time.

Not so much the carnal desire for a pretty girl, but a deep longing to take her in his arms and hold her close, pressing her pliant body against his, breathing in the scent of her hair and protecting her from the wicked world that surrounded her.

He quite surprised himself by his feelings, and they did make the rest of the dance session feel somewhat different now he'd acknowledged them. Each time he had to take her hand and she laughed up into his eyes, his heart swelled a little more. Each time he felt the warmth of her skin, even if it were just her fingertips on his, that same warm glow suffused his body from tip to toe, and he knew without a doubt that what he really wanted to do was press his lips to her delectably parted ones in a kiss.

But no. She was under his protection, and as such he couldn't take any advantage. That his mother would not approve of him harboring romantic feelings, the romantic feelings he'd already once denied, did not bother him in the least. He was his own man and this his own house, but there remained the dangerous life he led in Cornwall. Could he expose a gently bred young lady, a wife, to that life? If not, then he needed to hold himself in check.

Time raced past as they moved on to the Cotillion and had to start all over again with demonstrations and walking through the steps, until they were finally disturbed by a footman telling them her Ladyship requested their presence for tea in the library.

"Inform my mother we shall be with her in five minutes," Kit said.

"Oh pooh," Ysella complained, in a most unladylike manner. "Just when Morvoren was beginning to get the hang of this one."

"I wouldn't say I had the hang of any of them yet," Morvoren said, leaning against the pianoforte and breathing hard. A sheen of sweat sparkled on her forehead and her breasts rose rapidly from the exertion. Tantalizingly. What would it be like to rain kisses on them? Kit's breeches suddenly felt very uncomfortable and he had to turn away to the window for a moment in an attempt to get himself back under control.

"Nonsense," Sam put in. "You're doing better than some of the people I saw dancing here last year when Kit held his own ball."

"Did you attend it?" Morvoren asked, her gaze sharpening.

Sam nodded. "Because it was an Ormonde ball, Kit invited me." He shook his head ruefully. "I don't get invites from any of the local gentry though. A land agent is too lowly a creature."

"You're a very good dancer," Morvoren said. "I don't think you once put a foot wrong. I wish I could be as good as you."

"Many years of partnering young Carlyon ladies," Sam said, with a grin. "Derwa, Lady Monckton, is barely a year older than me. So when she was learning to dance, I made an ideal partner. And I repeated that task when Miss Meliora's turn came."

"And me," Ysella piped up. "He helped me learn as well. That's why I knew he'd be so helpful in teaching you, Morvoren."

Kit turned back from the window, hoping no one would notice his discomfiture. "We'd better not keep my mother waiting." To his relief, no one argued with his decision and he was able to lead the way from the room, the others following behind.