“I’m certain a conversation with your brother will save you from any future association with Mackenzie,” he said, the threat unmistakable. “He would not approve after I tell him what I know of the man.”
She whipped her gaze back to him and pasted a smile on her face. “Do not meddle in my affairs, Camden.”
“If I see you engaging in reckless behavior, it’s my duty to intervene.”
She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. He would not thwart her. Not when she had finally come up with a plan for her future.
Buckston was closing in, ready to claim his dance. She breathed her relief and shifted position to greet him, feeling quite smug as she turned her back on Camden. The vexing man could be left staring after her in the middle of a dance floor for all she cared. She refused to allow him to stick his nose into her life. She already had a brother and cousin to look out for her. She didn’t need him, too.
Buckston gestured to the dance floor in invitation, that ridiculously large Adam’s apple of his bobbing as he opened his mouth to request his turn with her.
She inclined her head with a smile and extended her hand, ready to place it in his waiting palm, reminding herself to be amenable. Buckston was no longer a kindly dance partner, he was a prospect she must consider.
Suddenly, she was whirled around and pulled into Max’s arms. He swept her past a scowling Buckston and whisked her out onto the dance floor.
Aghast, she stared up at his smug face in astonishment. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Waltzing with you.”
“You don’t dance. With anyone. Ever.”
He frowned momentarily, as though realizing the truth of this reminder. Then he shrugged. “Clearly, I do.”
Furious heat crept over her face, and she tried to pull away.
He tightened his grip on her hand and pressed her closer to his chest. “Stop pulling away from me. People are staring.”
“Because of you,” she hissed. “You are dancing.” She cast a look about the room, her gaze stopping on Rosalie and Violet. They both wore curious expressions as they watched her and Max. Even they knew that Max did not dance.
“You’re Will’s sister. He’s my best friend. No one will think anything of it as long as you stop wiggling to get away. And rid yourself of that sucking-lemon expression while you’re at it.”
“Oh!” She forced herself to relax in his arms. Smiling was a harder feat to accomplish.
He pulled her even closer. “Much better,” he praised.
Her breasts brushed his chest. Her face flamed hot as she remembered the night in the corridor, an encounter that she had been trying so very hard to forget. “You’re a cad. I promised this dance to Buckston.”
“Buckston’s a peacock.”
“He’s a gentleman.”
“Don’t waste your time on him,” he advised.
The man drove her mad. “Mackenzie is unseemly. Buckston a peacock. Is there anyone on this earth good enough for me?”
He didn’t reply, and she risked a look up at him to find him staring down at her. His stormy eyes gazed at her in an unfathomable way that made her chest tighten to the point of discomfort.
She looked away, glad that he did not answer that question . . . but also wondering why he did not.
Chapter 7