Lady Jasmine Sinclair.
Tall, with sun-kissed skin, lush curves, and raven black hair flowing freely down her back. A fiery red dress covered her from her shoulders to the floor, engulfing each step as she descended. She wore a half mask of a phoenix,as if she had risen from the ashes of hell to haunt him.
His feet moved of their own accord, making a straight line to her across the ballroom. Guests hastened out of his way—all except Lord Durham, who had the audacity to stand in his path.
“What an exquisite gown, my lady.” The stocky gentleman bowed to her and extended his hand. “I do not believe we’ve met, Lady…?”
“Jasmine.” Matthew made direct eye contact with her. Her chocolate eyes narrowed in response. “Step aside, Lord Durham—the lady promisedmeher first dance.”
The man turned to him and blanched.
“My lord,” he stammered. “O-of course! I hadn’t thought—please,excuse me.”
Matthew stepped forward as Lord Durham stumbled out of the way. He bowed to Jasmine when he wanted to kneel.
In response, Jasmine performed the worst curtsy he had ever seen from a marquess’s daughter. With her lips pursed, she placed her hand in his. Her touch sent fire roaring through his veins.
As they settled into waltz position, with her in his arms once more, the warmth in his heart spread to his soul. He hadn’t forgotten how it felt to hold her, but living flesh and blood was miles above memory. She smelled of lilies and spring, as she always had. If he closed his eyes and placed his lips on her neck, would she taste as she had that night so long ago?
Overcome with the unbearable wish to be alone with her, he fought every impulse to kiss her. He had imagined this moment for years. Had a speech prepared with what he would say to her if she ever returned from Spain. Now, the only words that crossed his mind were, ‘I love you,’ ‘I’ve missed you,’and ‘I’m sorry.’
As he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off.
“I most assuredly have not promised you any dances,” Jasmine hissed. She met his eyes with the utmost disdain. “I did not intend on dancing at all.”
Matthew frowned at the sharpness of her tone. As he tried to guide her through the dance, she resisted his lead. He attempted to turn her, but she twisted the other way, nearly toppling them. She fought him on every move, far from the grace she had exhibited in their previous dances.
“Why come to a ball if you hadn’t intended on dancing?” he asked.
“My mother forced me. I’m only dancing with you because you gave me no choice.” She huffed. “I don’t need to know your name to know I’mnotinterested.”
He almost tripped on his next step. Incredulous, he asked, “Youdon’t know my name?”
“Should I?” she challenged. “As far as I can tell, you’re no different from these other gentlemen. Pompous and preening. You’re all the same.”
Under his mask, his jaw dropped.
She didn’t know who he was?
He hadn’t changed that much in three years, had he? Did she not recognize his voice? After hearing it for her entire life! Not his manner or the way he held her?
I’ll need to jog her memory.
“You’re wrong about me, Lady Jasmine.” Using his rakish charm, he whispered, “I’m nothing like the other gentlemen in this room.”
She scoffed. “How original.”
On their next turn, she subtly dug her fingernails into his shoulder and placed her foot in just the right spot for him to skip a step. Recovering, he twirled her with a flourish. Her skirts fanned out and brushed along the floor. Outraged couples moved out of their path with affronted huffs.
“Allow me to ask you a question.” He pulled her closer and laced their fingertips together. She squeezed his fingers to prevent him from advancing further. Wincing, he asked, “Did you wish to dance with that man?”
“No.” Her eyes challenged him. “I didn’t wish to dance with anyone.”
“Then I have done you a great service,” he said. “Now, no one will dare dance with you for the rest of the evening.”
“I suppose I should be thanking you?” Her voice took on a demure note. “Thank youso much, my lord.”
“You’re more than welcome, my lady,” he whispered. “I would do anything for you.”