A Question Of Marriage. Lindsay Armstrong

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A Question Of Marriage - Lindsay  Armstrong


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stranger—in other words it had been a mistake to wear it. But how was she to have known she would bump into the one man who would sense that, where others mightn’t?

      She also caught herself thinking that this stranger was dynamite, and she should possibly exercise due caution or she might find herself willingly led down the garden path…

      That was nonsense, she immediately corrected the thought, another flight of sheer fantasy! All the same, it wouldn’t go astray to take care.

      She said, whimsically, ‘I won’t treat you to a full flamenco, though.’

      ‘Could you?’

      ‘I took lessons in Spain a few months ago. They called me the pocket señorita.’

      He studied her upturned face until she moved restlessly beneath the way his gaze took in her eyes, then rested squarely on her mouth before he said pensively, ‘Why do I get the feeling you could be a pocket dynamo all round, Miss…?’

      But Aurora, who found her heart beating abnormally and her senses all at sixes and sevens beneath not only the way this man was looking at her but everything about him, clutched a straw of sanity. ‘I’d rather remain anonymous at the moment,’ she said with a delicious look of fun in her eyes. ‘If you don’t tread on my toes or have sweaty palms I might reconsider, but I’m not promising anything.’

      He didn’t reply, only inclined his head, took her in his arms and swung her into the beat of the music. Then he stopped and frowned down at her again, but only for a moment before he rather absently steered her through the dancers.

      As for Aurora, she also found herself dancing mechanically for several reasons. A determination not to be overly impressed by this man on such short notice, but also because of a prickling sense of déjà vu. Why, though? she wondered. She was quite sure she’d never met him before—he was not the kind of man you forgot—so it had to be because she was back on the terrace of her old home, only—that didn’t seem to fit.

      ‘Have I offended some other, unnamed principle of yours, Miss Anonymous? Body odour or bad breath?’ he drawled, breaking her out of her frowning reverie.

      Her eyes widened. ‘Uh…no, sorry, nothing like that at all! You smell quite nice in a manly way.’ She inhaled delicately. ‘I’m not partial to overpowering aftershave or cologne on men.’

      ‘Neither am I,’ he said abruptly. ‘You, on the other hand, use a particularly delicate, floral perfume.’

      ‘Thank you! It is rather nice, isn’t it? I have it specially made up for me by a friend who is into that kind of thing.’

      ‘So it’s—uniquely yours?’ There was a rather intent little gleam in his eyes as he asked the question.

      ‘Yes. Do you have a problem with that?’ she asked curiously.

      ‘No. Why should I?’

      ‘I don’t know. You just looked a bit—’ she shrugged ‘—censorious about my perfume.’

      He smiled faintly. ‘I think it all goes towards making you rather special.’ He held her away and looked down at her consideringly before raising his eyes to hers. ‘Do you have anyone in your life—when you’re not helping hapless men friends out?’

      Aurora, once more clasped in his arms, began to dance again. ‘I don’t think we know each other well enough to go into that. Unless you’d like to set the ball rolling by telling me about your love life?’ She raised an eyebrow delicately at him.

      ‘In point of fact I happen to be—unattached at the moment,’ he responded gravely.

      ‘And on the prowl,’ Aurora suggested with an undercurrent of irony.

      ‘What makes you think that?’

      ‘Could be that my antennae are picking up those vibes about you,’ she replied ingenuously. ‘In fact, I warned myself to be on guard against being led down the garden path not long after we started to dance.’

      He laughed, and there was something curiously breathtaking about it despite Aurora’s wish to be unimpressed by him. Because it revealed a vitality that made you want to laugh too, and made you want to get to know this man, who could be so damningly bored at times then respond so fascinatingly to something you’d said—so that you felt absolutely fascinated yourself.

      ‘I have yet to resort to leading a girl down the garden path,’ he denied, ‘although the opposite may not be true.’

      Aurora blinked and wrinkled her brow. ‘You have a problem with girls leading you down the garden path?’

      ‘Occasionally.’

      They danced in silence for a while as Aurora digested this. She wasn’t sure if he was serious, although it was not hard to imagine him cutting a swathe through the female population. She said, eventually, ‘How old are you?’

      He looked briefly taken aback. ‘Thirty-seven, why?’

      She smiled wisely. ‘Then it’s about time you got yourself a wife, I would think, not only to keep you on the straight and narrow but to discourage women from making fools of themselves over you.’

      ‘Are you suggesting yourself for the position?’ he came back smoothly and with a mocking little smile playing on his lips.

      ‘Not at all,’ Aurora replied airily. ‘I plan to have a lot more fun and adventure before I embark on marriage, domesticity and maternity.’

      ‘And do you think these things work to plan?’ he queried, rather dryly, she thought.

      ‘For me they do—so far, anyway!’

      ‘How nice,’ he commented, and said no more for a time.

      But it was not long before Aurora realised, as they danced, that it was far easier said than done to remain impervious to this man. He danced well, holding her lightly and certainly not imposing any unwelcome familiarities on her. In fact he was being a very correct partner—but that could be a mockery, she found herself thinking darkly.

      There was certainly a quizzical gleam in his eyes from time to time as he so carefully observed the proprieties. Almost as if he knew exactly, damn him, how wonderful he was to dance with even so correctly. How easily his well-knit body moved to the rhythm—how impossible it was not to feel rather stunningly aware of him even held so lightly in his arms.

      ‘You were thinking?’ he murmured, his dark eyes resting wickedly on her flushed face, after he’d twirled her expertly so that her skirt belled out beautifully, and brought her back safely into his arms.

      ‘That’s for me to know and you to ponder upon,’ she replied, and was annoyed to hear herself sounding defensive.

      ‘Then I’ll tell you what I was thinking, Miss Anonymous. That we dance so well together, there are certain other—activities,’ he said, barely audibly, ‘we should be able to lend ourselves to excellently.’

      Aurora took a breath and felt her cheeks redden, but she was unable to prevent herself from replying in kind as anger also coursed through her veins. ‘Really?’ she said gently. ‘I should warn you that I don’t take my clothes off on first encounters.’

      He took the opportunity to look right through her clothes, then raised a lazy eyebrow at her. ‘A pity, but it might create a riot here and now, wouldn’t you agree?’

      ‘Perhaps I should rephrase,’ Aurora started to say.

      He laughed softly. ‘Perhaps. That is cutting to the chase rather rapidly.’

      ‘You started this,’ she reminded him, trying valiantly to sound cool and unflustered, although she was kicking herself mentally.

      ‘I may have,’ he agreed, ‘but I was thinking along the lines of extending the pleasure we take in dancing with each other…’ he paused and looked down at her significantly until she had to look away with a mixture of embarrassment


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