“No’ from the game,” he said evenly.
Anna lifted a brow, walked to the railing and looked around. “I thought perhaps you might do me the honor of standing up with me,” she said, lifting her arm and jiggling her dance card. With a conspiratorial look about, she whispered, “I know you don’t approve, but I’m anxious to demonstrate that I have indeed learned quite a lot from you, sir. I no longer feel compelled to lead.” She smiled softly.
In spite of himself, in spite of his anger, Grif couldn’t help smiling a bit. “I donna believe you.”
“It’s true,” she said, nodding. “I’m quite cured of it. Come, and I’ll show you.”
Grif shook his head.
Anna touched his hand. “Come, please come, Grif. I don’t want to leave things as we did last night,” she said softly. “Come then, just a waltz. And then you may hie yourself to whomever.”
In the ballroom, the orchestra began to play the waltz, and Anna smiled warmly at Grif. “They’re starting.”
He knew he shouldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it. He should have told her then and there that he had to leave, leave tonight, but as usual he felt powerless to resist her, and the thought of holding her once more…
“I’ve yer word ye’ll no’ lead?”
Anna laughed and crossed her heart. Grif offered his arm, escorted her to the dance floor, and stood back, bowing deeply as she curtsied. “Oh my,” she said as she carefully placed her hand in his, “how very formal of you.”
He said nothing, just swept her into the rhythm of the waltz, pulling her closer with each turn, closer than he should, as close as a man would hold his wife. She felt so perfect in his arms, so right, and he had a small, treacherous desire for that dance to go on forever.
“Will you go on dancing without so much as a smile?” she asked him. Her head was tilted back so that her face was upturned to him like a flower to the sun. “You handed me a rather sound beating at battledore and shuttlecock, and here you are, given the pleasure of leading this dance, and still you frown.”
“Do I?” he asked absently, momentarily lost in the copper depths of her eyes.
She laughed, her lips full and dangerously kissable. “You do! All right, then, you really must smile. You’ll be done with me soon.”
A feeling of sadness swept through him and he put his mouth near her head, taking a breath of her. “Sooner than ye know, lass. I must go,” he whispered.
“Honestly, Grif, it’s only a dance!” she said with cheerful exasperation. “As soon as it ends, I swear I’ll leave you at peace, for I shouldn’t want to stand in the way of your many admirers.”
He smiled sadly, pulled her closer to avoid a collision with another couple, let his hand slide up her trim back and down. “No, Anna…I mean that I must leave here. Before dawn’s light.”
The smile instantly faded from her face. “Tonight?” she gasped. “What are you saying? You can’t leave tonight! There is the ball, and they’ve gone to great lengths to have chess on the east lawn on the morrow, and what shall Bette think, and besides, everyone is leaving tomorrow afternoon, so why must you hurry away?”
She looked so confused and so hurt that he couldn’t help but pull her closer and hold her there, propriety be damned. “I canna remain here, Anna. Lady Battenkirk has returned, and surely ye can understand the potential jeopardy she brings. She has already mentioned the beastie and her Amelia. It’s only a matter of time ere I’m found out,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“But… but won’t they suspect something is amiss if you just up and leave?” she demanded frantically. “Why must you go now?”
“What is this, now, Anna?” he asked, dipping his head a little to have a look into her face. “Ye have what ye want, aye? Ye must fulfill yer end of our agreement and bring me the beastie. I canna leave England without it, and I must leave England as soon as possible.”
Anna said nothing, just pressed her lips together as they twirled about. But she could not keep silent for long. “I don’t understand why you must rush away!” she insisted. “Even if Lady Battenkirk says something about the silly thing, what has it to do with you?”
“Ach, lass, donna be childish, now,” he softly admonished her. “My offense is a hanging offense. Ye must honor yer word, and as soon as possible.”
“But I…” She dropped her gaze to his neckcloth. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, and Grif felt insupportably heartened by it. But then she added, “I can’t possibly do this all by myself!”
Lockhart. Always Lockhart! The waltz ended; Grif instantly dropped his hand, stepped back, and bowed.