Rosemary Rogers - Surrender To Love

“Yes, Aunt Harriet.” Alexa’s deliberately widened eyes and false smile caused Harriet to award her a grudging, if somewhat sarcastic nod.

“Very good, my dear, although the smile might have appeared less artificial if you had remembered not to grit your teeth together at the same time. And just one more word of advice—you would do much better not to show yourself too eager to accept the attentions of any one particular gentleman and give him too much of your attention, even if he should court you with posies and pretty speeches. As far as men are concerned it’s the thrill of pursuing the unattainable that keeps them interested; and an easy conquest is just as boring as a suggestion of uncertainty and competition is a challenge. For your own sake, you might remember what I have just told you.”

She had danced at least four times with Lord Charles, Alexa thought resentfully, but it did not really mean anything significant beyond the fact that she found him interesting to talk to as well as attractive and understanding. She was sure he did not misunderstand or think her too easily available; so why should the fact that other people might think this or that be a matter of concern to her? Before Alexa could say anything in reply to her aunt’s warning speech, however, she was approached by her next partner; an extremely bashful young man who had no conversation whatsoever, as she soon discovered. But that was her fault for feeling so flattered at being surrounded from the beginning by so many eager gentlemen begging for dances that she had recklessly promised almost all of them before realizing her own foolishness. The next time she would know better and would pick and choose; but perhaps…By the time she was being escorted back to her seat by her red-faced, perspiring partner, Alexa had begun to wonder thoughtfully if perhaps she should deliberately sit out a few dances. The next dance, maybe? Especially if it happened to be a polka and her partner an energetic military man. She must learn how to make excuses gracefully…. Beginning to fan herself in anticipation of announcing regretfully to her next prospective partner that she felt so overheated and could not possibly dance another step until she had managed to regain her breath, Alexa suddenly realized that her treacherous foot had started tapping in time to a lilting Strauss waltz. Her very favorite dance of all. And oh dear! Here was the Viscount Deering bowing before her again while he begged for the honor, if she had not already promised this waltz to some other more fortunate gentleman.

With an apologetic smile in the direction of the wooden-faced Miss Harriet Howard, Lord Charles explained that he was forced to leave the festivities earlier than he had anticipated in order to return to the ship to supervise the unloading of a few personal items too valuable to be trusted to anyone else; and that was why he dared to be bold enough to importune Miss Howard again so soon after their last dance. “Mrs. Mackenzie has been kind enough to invite me to stay here for as long as our ship will have to undergo repairs to the damage incurred during a particularly nasty storm we encountered last week; and my cousin has informed me that by tomorrow she will be positively crawling with workmen, so…”

Avoiding her aunt’s eye, Alexa returned his almost pleading look with a smile that showed her dimple, and was actually about to extend her hand to him when he suddenly moved aside with a bow and a murmured apology. The Governor of all people! Alexa swallowed uncomfortably, thinking how close she had come to committing a faux pas. How could she had promised the fifth waltz to her host? Her Aunt Harriet would never have forgiven her!

“Well, young lady. Hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten our dance, eh? Quite the belle of the ball, you’ve been, and I was almost afraid that some bold young buck might have been quicker than I.”

Perhaps it was in some ways just as well that Lord Charles should feel slightly thwarted, Alexa thought, remembering Harriet’s lecturing. He would probably be all the more eager to meet her again; and after all, he had made it clear that he would be staying on in Colombo for a few more days at least.

His Excellency the Governor, Alexa rediscovered, was quite a Latin scholar and seemed to enjoy testing her vocabulary; but it was soon obvious that his waltzing was as stiff and jerky as his manner of speech. Poor man. He would probably have felt much more comfortable as an Oxford don rather than filling the post of Governor of a British crown colony. As he guided her through one or two turns about the room, Alexa tried to respond as best she could to the occasional questions he directed at her—rather as if she had been a student he was testing, she thought with rueful amusement. But at least he seemed pleased at her replies, and even went so far as to compliment her on her knowledge of Latin grammar and the extent of her reading in that language.

“I’ve often wished my daughters would take more of an interest in learning and reading, but my wife tells me that’s not considered an essential part of a young female’s education any longer. Pity! They’re more interested in learning the latest dance steps—and in young men, of course! I suppose they think I’m an old fuddy-duddy, and perhaps I am in some ways, only I haven’t quite forgotten how it felt to be young. And because you’re young—and pretty into the bargain—I’m sure you must be wishing you were dancing this waltz with someone nearer your own age who can whirl you around until you are dizzy—am I not right? Well, even if you’re too polite to admit it, I suppose I’m still young enough at heart to sympathize with the young, my dear. And so I have a surprise for you. Young fellow who arrived late and wasn’t fortunate enough to beg a dance from you earlier. Nice chap, though, or I wouldn’t do it. Spent an hour or more with him talking about gardens and different varieties of plants, and I could see right away he knows a lot. Gardening’s one of my pet hobbies, you know. But anyhow, I’m sure he can lead you through a waltz much better than I can, at any rate; and when I asked my wife what she thought, she agreed there would be no harm in it, especially when the poor young man admitted he was quite bowled over the first moment he set eyes on you.”

The Governor’s sudden burst of speech at first puzzled and then quite confused Alexa, especially in view of the fact that when he concentrated on speaking he tended not to keep time to the music, which forced her in turn to have to concentrate on trying to keep up with his somewhat eccentric progress about the floor. And perhaps that was why she was so utterly unprepared for his “surprise”—feeling for some moments as if she had been stunned by a sudden blow that left her too dazed to speak or think coherently, even while her limbs continued to move quite mechanically in time with the music.

“I believe that you have already been formally introduced? Enjoy the rest of the dance!” Suddenly, she was no longer dancing with the Governor. He was surrendering her, with misguided gallantry, to another partner.

Alexa’s heart had begun to pound so hard from a mixture of emotions she hadn’t yet had the time to examine that she could hardly comprehend what had happened, at first; or how she suddenly found herself turning around and around like a porcelain ballerina poised atop a music box—dancing a waltz with him. The one man of all men that she had hoped never to encounter again.

It was only the hard pressure of his hand against the small of her back that forced her to keep moving mechanically in time to the music. Alexa remained silent for such a length of time that it was he who had to speak first.

“I do assure you, Miss Howard, that there is no need for you to look up at me like a terrified little rabbit caught in a bear trap. What do you think I might do to you in the midst of this public assembly, ravish you? Wring that slender white neck, out of disappointment that I was not able to do so last night?” The silky-sarcastic tone of his voice deepened into what seemed almost a dangerous growl, for all its deceptive softness, before he continued more impatiently: “For God’s sake, what’s the matter with you? When I took pains to arrange to dance with you I thought I might see some show of spirit—or at least some natural and unstudied reaction that came from the free and halfwild creature of the elements I came upon by accident last night. Then you did not seem afraid to give way to your instincts and your feelings. Even that violent fit of rage when you wanted to shoot me with your little pistol was something real and unfeigned, at least. But tonight…” His eyes narrowed wickedly as his glance swept up and down the length of her body with deliberate, insulting slowness before he said softly: “Or is it only tight corsets and stays and too many layers of petticoats that restrict you? Would you like me to free you by removing every garment you are wearing one by one?”