Haunted Hearts Read Online Free
trifle annoyed. He surprised her, then, when he asked her to dance.
Still, she didn’t hesitate. “ Oui ,” she said, standing and putting out her hand as he offered her his arm.
He led her past the crowd of people feasting, talking, laughing, to a small area some intrepid dancers had carved out for themselves as a dance floor. She heard the strains of a waltz. Having learned the dance from her sister, Olivia was delighted to get to perform the daring gambol at a real party. And no less than with a handsome, mysterious stranger . This was why she’d come tonight, to do what she’d too seldom--or never--done before.
She’d had a few dances as a debutante, but too few. She and Stratton had danced but twice together. At two-and-seventy years old, the closest her groom had come to being of a dancing mind had been the handful of extremely awkward bedroom antics Olivia had endured with him. But at least because of Stratton she now knew men, too, had nipples…as clearly did their host.
Hoping her partner didn’t feel her shudder at such thoughts, Olivia pushed her ponderings aside, and let the maskless Louis take her in his arms. She did not gasp when his fingers curled around her waist to touch the small of her back. However, she was a bit shocked by the movement of the dance, for they swayed so close to one another. It was one thing to be face-to-face with one’s sister, but quite another to be held by a man almost as though in an embrace. No wonder many people still found the dance to be shocking. This Louis had them circling, swirling, making sure the wine she’d drunk rushed to her head. He danced well, the nature of his movements revealing this was not the first time he’d danced the waltz. She allowed herself to be swept along by him, her face becoming flushed with pleasure underneath her mask.
Oh, dancing was such a delight! And her partner chatted easily. His hand stayed in place on her waist, thank goodness. What if it had slipped down onto her bottom, like was happening with a couple dancing nearby? She’d simply back out of his arms and dash away, she decided, not caring if she offended her partner or her host.
Fortunately, the Louis who held her knew how to act the gentleman. A fair dancer and well-behaved ? She began to chat more easily as she chose to trust him for the length of the dance.
Moving with this man was a far cry from dancing with Phoebe. Or even walking with Stratton at her side. Olivia became acutely aware of the smoothness of a young hand touching hers, of the lack of a stoop or a limp, of a mouth that retained all its teeth. The wine in her head no longer made her feel dizzy, but buoyed. She found she really could no longer be sure she’d heard any accent in the man’s voice. If his claim of spending his childhood away from England was true, surely he’d been raised by English nannies? Anyway, English had surely been his first language. Not that it mattered; what mattered was that she’d come out tonight in order to be seen, and this graceful man made her feel he was seeing a bit of her self, despite her mask, and not finding her wanting.
After the dance, he gave her a gallant leg worthy of Louis XIV himself, and led her to the side of the dancing area. His expression was now the reverse of what it had been earlier--now his mouth was sober but his eyes were glittering. It was as though something had occurred, something…well, the only word she could think of to explain her impressions was “exciting”…and that he was making a studied effort not to acknowledge it, either by word or expression. Only his eyes, alight in his face, could not hide the knowledge, speaking eyes that seemed to be saying something in a language she could not quite understand. For a moment, she felt the old, habitual reserve slipping over her again, but she firmly thrust it aside. She opened her mouth to speak, not knowing what she meant to say…anything--but he spoke first.
“I must see to
Still, she didn’t hesitate. “ Oui ,” she said, standing and putting out her hand as he offered her his arm.
He led her past the crowd of people feasting, talking, laughing, to a small area some intrepid dancers had carved out for themselves as a dance floor. She heard the strains of a waltz. Having learned the dance from her sister, Olivia was delighted to get to perform the daring gambol at a real party. And no less than with a handsome, mysterious stranger . This was why she’d come tonight, to do what she’d too seldom--or never--done before.
She’d had a few dances as a debutante, but too few. She and Stratton had danced but twice together. At two-and-seventy years old, the closest her groom had come to being of a dancing mind had been the handful of extremely awkward bedroom antics Olivia had endured with him. But at least because of Stratton she now knew men, too, had nipples…as clearly did their host.
Hoping her partner didn’t feel her shudder at such thoughts, Olivia pushed her ponderings aside, and let the maskless Louis take her in his arms. She did not gasp when his fingers curled around her waist to touch the small of her back. However, she was a bit shocked by the movement of the dance, for they swayed so close to one another. It was one thing to be face-to-face with one’s sister, but quite another to be held by a man almost as though in an embrace. No wonder many people still found the dance to be shocking. This Louis had them circling, swirling, making sure the wine she’d drunk rushed to her head. He danced well, the nature of his movements revealing this was not the first time he’d danced the waltz. She allowed herself to be swept along by him, her face becoming flushed with pleasure underneath her mask.
Oh, dancing was such a delight! And her partner chatted easily. His hand stayed in place on her waist, thank goodness. What if it had slipped down onto her bottom, like was happening with a couple dancing nearby? She’d simply back out of his arms and dash away, she decided, not caring if she offended her partner or her host.
Fortunately, the Louis who held her knew how to act the gentleman. A fair dancer and well-behaved ? She began to chat more easily as she chose to trust him for the length of the dance.
Moving with this man was a far cry from dancing with Phoebe. Or even walking with Stratton at her side. Olivia became acutely aware of the smoothness of a young hand touching hers, of the lack of a stoop or a limp, of a mouth that retained all its teeth. The wine in her head no longer made her feel dizzy, but buoyed. She found she really could no longer be sure she’d heard any accent in the man’s voice. If his claim of spending his childhood away from England was true, surely he’d been raised by English nannies? Anyway, English had surely been his first language. Not that it mattered; what mattered was that she’d come out tonight in order to be seen, and this graceful man made her feel he was seeing a bit of her self, despite her mask, and not finding her wanting.
After the dance, he gave her a gallant leg worthy of Louis XIV himself, and led her to the side of the dancing area. His expression was now the reverse of what it had been earlier--now his mouth was sober but his eyes were glittering. It was as though something had occurred, something…well, the only word she could think of to explain her impressions was “exciting”…and that he was making a studied effort not to acknowledge it, either by word or expression. Only his eyes, alight in his face, could not hide the knowledge, speaking eyes that seemed to be saying something in a language she could not quite understand. For a moment, she felt the old, habitual reserve slipping over her again, but she firmly thrust it aside. She opened her mouth to speak, not knowing what she meant to say…anything--but he spoke first.
“I must see to
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