“What was he thinking to hold her so closely in the middle of Almack’s? He hadn’t even asked her permission. Moreover, people were staring. She could see Cleo dancing nearby, face red in her fury at Jareth’s actions. She should cry out, push away from him, force him to release her. Yet she could not seem to muster the desire. Being in his arms again felt simply wonderful. She marveled at it. How on earth could she feel so contented, dancing with one of the most renowned rakes in England? Yet she... felt contented, and more. His hand on her waist was firm and warm. It moved in a slow caress of her back, raising a heat from deep inside her. His other hand held hers gently, cradled among his fingers, as if he cherished the touch as much as she did. And his face. Here was something akin to the worshipful gaze she remembered. Only this time, it wasn’t a youth who held her with his eyes but a man. A man used to leading his life as he pleased. A man who had more than once damned the consequences to live on his own terms.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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