Never Less Than A Lady | Herophine

Chapter Thirty One

Josephine

Josephine danced every dance, but it would take more than one night to make up for all her years of deprivation. She was on the sidelines ruefully examining her hem when Hero approached bearing two glasses of champagne. From the way female gazes followed him, Rose had been right about how magnificent he was in his uniform. Just looking at him caused heat in unmentionable places.

He offered her a glass of champagne. "A problem with your gown?"

"My last partner stepped on the flounce at the bottom of my skirt and it tore loose." She accepted the champagne and swallowed a mouthful with pleasure. "I'll go to the ladies' retiring room. Elsa is working there and she can pin it up."

"Let's go up to our apartment," he suggested. "I can manage if you provide the pins. I could use a break from all this concentrated humanity."

The look in his eyes made her feel even warmer. She finished the champagne in a single swallow and set the glass on a nearby table. "I'd like that." She took his arm and they headed across the ballroom. "I noticed that you danced most of the dances. Were you enjoying yourself, or being a good guest?"

"Rose gave me my marching orders before the ball," he explained. "I've danced with every wallflower and frisky dowager in Kent's House."

"I hope they didn't all fall in love with you." Her tone was light, but she had been very aware of his other partners. Though he claimed to be merely doing his duty, some of those "wallflowers" had been young and more beautiful than she would ever be.

"If they were attracted by the uniform, I'm sure my stern expression discouraged any romantic fantasies. Mostly I was glad that you did such a good job repairing my leg that it is hardly aching at all." He smiled down at her. "You do very good work."

"The governess I had as a girl would probably say that my needlework lessons were good training for surgery," Josephine replied. "She was always trying to persuade me to embrace ladylike accomplishments."

The cooler air outside the ballroom was a relief. As they started up the stairs, Josephine caught up her skirt where the flounce was dragging. "It's convenient to be living in the house where the ball is being held. Sanctuary from all the noise and talk."

"I've been on battlefields that were quieter than a London ball in full spate," Hero agreed.

At the top of the staircase, they turned right toward their apartment. When Hero opened the door to the sitting room, Josephine realized that they were directly above the ballroom. She could hear the music and feel its vibration through her feet.

Closing the door, Hero said, "I've wanted to do this all night." He turned and drew her into his arms.

"Oh, yes!" She reached up to put her arms around his neck as passion crackled between them like heat lightning. All night she had been aware of Hero, not just where he was in the ballroom and how splendid he looked, but memories of his taste, his touch, his ability to make her melt with desire.

He drank her in as if she were a fountain and he was dying of thirst.

Dimly she was aware that her back was pressed against the door as their mouths and tongues melted together with no beginning and no end.

Her hips rocked against him. She felt quick disappointment when he pulled back a little, until she realized that he had lifted her skirt. Cool air touched heated flesh as he sought and found the most sensitive parts of her body.

Exquisite though the sensations were, she wanted more. Blindly she fumbled with his breeches, managing the buttons with clumsy fingers until she freed the hard, pulsing shaft into her hand.