“I wonder if perhaps you and Joan are both wrong about the reasons for Vale’s presence here tonight,” she said.
“What the devil makes you think we might be wrong?”
“It is simply that I gained the distinct impression that Vale’s goal was to dance with Joan, not to find out how our investigation was proceeding.”
“Vale is an expert at concealing his goals. Joan is equally skilled at the business, if you ask me.”
She blinked at the unmistakable thread of irritation in his voice. “You are annoyed.”
“No.”
“Yes, you are. I can sense it quite clearly. You are in an ill temper. What on earth is the matter? Are you irritated because Vale did not attempt to question us?”
“No.”
“Tobias, really, you are being very difficult.”
He came to a halt in front of the conservatory and opened the glass-paned door.
Lavinia hesitated when she saw that he intended to enter. “Do you think we should go inside?”
“If the owner had wanted no one to enter, he would have seen to it that the door was kept locked.”
“Well, I suppose-”
He tugged her gently into the humid atmosphere and shut the door. The heavy scents of rich earth and growing things teased her senses. There was enough moonlight streaming through the myriad windows to reveal the ranks of palms, ferns, and other plants arrayed in neat rows. She smiled as the pleasant warmth enveloped her.
“Isn’t this spectacular?” She surveyed the heavy foliage and started slowly down an aisle, pausing here and there to sample the fragrance of a flower. “I imagine that this is how it feels to stroll through a jungle. I trust we will not encounter any snakes or wild beasts.”
Tobias fell into step beside her. “I would not depend on that if I were you.”
“Your mood is not improving.” She stroked a long, glossy leaf.
“Do not get too close to that.” Tobias pulled her back from the plant. “I do not recognize the species and there is no point taking chances.”
She swung around, exasperated. “I have had quite enough of your surly mood. Tell me what is wrong, Tobias.”
He looked at her, eyes dark and brooding in the moonlight. “If you must know, when I watched Vale lead Joan out onto the floor, I was suddenly overtaken with an overpowering desire to ask you to dance.”
She could not have been more astonished if he had suddenly announced that he could fly.
“You wished to dance with me?”
“I don’t know what the bloody hell came over me.”
“I see.”
“I have never taken much interest in dancing,” he continued. “And with this damned leg of mine, that sort of exercise is entirely out of the question. I would make a complete fool of myself on the floor.”
In the distance she could hear the muted strains of the waltz emanating from the ballroom. A deliciously exhilarated sensation swirled through her. She smiled at him in the shadows.
“There is no one to see you make a fool of yourself in here,” she said softly.
“Except you.”
“Ah, but I am already well aware that you are not a fool, and there is nothing that you could say or do that would make you out to be one in my eyes.”
He looked at her for a long moment. Then, very deliberately, he reached for her and drew her into his arms.
And for the first time in their tumultuous acquaintance, they danced together.
His steps were awkward and careful, as if he was afraid he would accidentally step on her toes or topple her to the floor of the greenhouse. But that did not matter, she thought. What mattered was that there was music in the distance and moonlight glinted on his dark hair. What mattered was that the air around them was heavy with the exotic fragrances of flowers that had come from far-off climes. What mattered was that she was in his arms and that time was standing still for a precious little eternity.
It was a scene of metaphysical enchantment, a scene that could have come straight from the pages of one of her precious books of poetry.
Tobias moved with her in a slow, measured tread down the aisle of tropical plants. She rested her head against his broad shoulder. The waltz was faerie music. The moonlight was liquid silver. The lush foliage that surrounded them was a magical garden.
When they reached the small bower at the far end, he stopped and tightened his hold on her. He kissed the curve of her bare shoulder.
“Tobias.”
A delicious urgency swept through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and raised her mouth to meet his.
His kiss left her breathless.
He eased the tiny sleeves of her gown down her arms, drawing the low-cut bodice to her waist. His powerful, competent hands cradled her breasts with astonishing tenderness. She felt his thumbs brush across her nipples and shivered in response.
He lowered himself onto the padded bower bench and pulled her down astride his thighs. His hands slid up her legs under the billowing satin folds of her gown. When he cupped her gently with his palm, her head fell back.
He slid one finger along her cleft, resting it against the small, tight nubbin at the top. She breathed deeply and moved against his hand.
He unfastened his trousers. She reached down and encircled him with her fingers. Her thumb glided across the broad, straining tip of his shaft.
He groaned with fierce pleasure.
“At times like this,” he muttered against her throat, “I cannot doubt your powers of mesmerism. You never fail to entrance me.”
“I may be a trained mesmerist, but you, sir, are nothing less than a sorcerer.”
The moonlight and the magic closed in around them.
Chapter Thirteen
It was the first time she had danced since Fielding’s death.
Joan felt oddly bemused as Vale guided her through the sweeping turn.
She had never thought to waltz with any man again, had never even dreamed that someday she might enjoy the music and the graceful patterns with anyone other than her beloved Fielding. Yet here she was, in the arms of one of his more dangerous friends, and it was intoxicating.
“Your gown is exquisite, madam,” Vale said. “But I cannot help but notice that you still wear the colors of mourning, even though it has been a year since Fielding departed this world.”
“I miss him,” she said quietly.
“I understand. I miss him too. Fielding was my friend. But I must tell you that I do not believe that he would have wanted you to wear nothing but gray and black for the rest of your life.”
She did not know what to say to that. The truth was that until quite recently she had not even thought about ending her period of mourning. She had had no desire to end it. Indeed, she knew that some part of her had anticipated wearing somber hues forever.
But the certainty that she was doomed to live out her days in a state of melancholia had begun to abate in recent weeks. Lavinia and Tobias had broken through the dark trance in which she had been ensnared. They had found answers to the questions surrounding Fielding’s death, questions that had haunted her for months. In doing so, they had helped free her from a gloom that had seemed unrelenting.
“We shall see,” she said.
Vale smiled, obviously content for now with her response. He swept her into another long, gliding turn.
He was, she thought, an excellent dancer. She relaxed and gave herself up to the glorious strains of the waltz and the sure strength of his arms.
“You have acquired some interesting new companions,” Vale said after a while.
The comment brought her back to the reality of the moment with a decided jolt. This was no pleasant dream. Vale did nothing without a reason. She must be on her guard.