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Beneath the Major's Scars(25)

By:Sarah Mallory


Her gaze never wavered.

‘I will dance with the major, if he will have me.’

It was a bold statement. For a frightening moment she thought     he would refuse. Then, unsmiling, he held out his hand. Triumphant, she put up     her head and proudly accompanied him to the floor.

The musicians had decided that their audience needed some     respite from the energetic dances and now began a slower, much more stately     beat. Zelah had time to observe her partner and to be observed. Her own gaze     dropped beneath his unwavering scrutiny and she felt herself blushing like any     schoolgirl. She would have missed her step, if her partner had not been adept at     leading her. His grip tightened and she gave him a little smile, grateful for     his support.

‘You are a very good dancer, Major.’

‘Thank you. I was used to be so, but I am very much out of     practice.’

‘Ah, but you have been used to dancing in the grandest     ballrooms. Your idea of out of practice is polished     perfection to our little assembly.’

‘You flatter me, ma’am.’

‘No, I do not.’ She met his look, suddenly serious. ‘You are     not lame when you are dancing.’

‘Not when I am dancing with you.’

The sudden and unexpected heat of his glance seared Zelah and a     flame of desire threatened to engulf her. She fought it back. That way led only     to disaster.

‘Nonsense. You have danced several times this evening without     any halting step.’

‘How can you know that?’

‘Because I was watching you.’

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

‘How very gratifying.’

Too late she realised he had tricked her. Triumph danced in his     eyes and drew an answering gleam from her own. She sank her teeth into her     bottom lip to prevent the smile that was trying to spill out.

‘I was dancing too, so you were often in my sight, I was not     deliberately looking out for you.’ Her lofty response resulted in a chuckle and     she tried to scowl at him. ‘Fie, sir, you twist my words to pander to your own     vanity!’

‘You are twisting your own words. I have said very little.’

‘No, but you looked—’ She laughed.     ‘You are making May-game of me, Major. Is this how one flirts in the highest     circles? I fear I am a very unworthy opponent.’

The music came to an end and she sank into her curtsy. He     reached out for her proffered hand to pull her up.

‘There is nothing at all unworthy about you, Miss Pentewan,’ he     murmured and she watched, speechless, as he carried her fingers to his lips.



Once it was seen that Major Coale was no longer     confining his attentions to the married ladies, those parents with daughters to     marry off began to flock around him and he obliged them all by remaining on the     floor for the rest of the night, but Zelah could not quell the little thrill of     triumph when he led her out for the last dance of the evening.

‘You must be well practised by now, Major.’

‘You have done me a great disservice, madam. Since dancing with     you I have been besieged with partners.’

‘Tell me you did not enjoy it.’

His smile was genuine, softening his face, and again she felt     the ache of attraction.

‘I have not danced like that since...since I returned from the     Peninsula.’

‘Then you should do so more often, Major. You look the better     for it.’

His hand tightened on her fingers and her body cried out to     respond to the warm invitation in his eyes, but she shook her head at him.

‘I will not allow you to flirt with me, or to tease me, Major.     I have a serious point to make and will not be distracted. You see how everyone     accepts you and you are much more at ease with them. I consider this a good     night’s work.’

‘Have I become your charity? Your good cause?’

A quick glance assured her he was not offended and she smiled     up at him

‘Not at all. But it has done you the power of good to come into     society, sir, even if it is only country society!’





Chapter Eight

The early morning sunshine poured in through the windows of the     breakfast room at Rooks Tower, sending golden bars of light across the floor.     Dominic pushed his plate away and sat back, going over his plans for the day. He     had arranged to meet Philips in the West Wood and he knew he would enjoy riding     out. Even before sitting down to breakfast he had sent word to the stables to     have Cloud saddled, but as he crossed the hall his eyes were drawn to the double     doors leading off, his mind flying ahead through the darkened room and into the     library beyond. It was the work of a moment to turn aside and stride through the     shuttered salon. He pushed open the connecting doors and stepped into the     library.

Zelah was already at work, a linen apron fastened over her     dark-grey gown as she carefully dusted one of the many piles of books. Her     bouncing curls had been ruthlessly drawn back into a knot, exposing the slender     curve of her neck and the dainty shell of her ear. She presented a demure     picture, cool and elegant. Nothing like the carefree, vibrant creature he had     danced with last night, but every bit as alluring. His heart lifted when he     remembered Maria Buckland’s words—‘Zelah thinks so highly of you.’

‘I hardly expected you to come today,’ he said. ‘And here you     are, earlier than usual.’

When she turned to smile it brought the golden sunshine into     the room.

‘I could not sleep. Is that not nonsensical, after dancing into     the early hours?’ She added shyly, ‘I enjoyed myself so much. I hope you did,     too, sir?’

‘Very much. Do they hold many such assemblies in     Lesserton?’

‘Oh, I do not think so.’ She picked up another book to dust.     ‘Maria says there will not be another until the harvest.’

He tapped his riding crop idly against his boot. The rest of     Mrs Buckland’s conversation gnawed away at his brain.

‘I do not believe governesses go to balls, Miss Pentewan.’

She looked up at him, her brows raised in surprise at his     comment.

‘I do not think they do, sir.’

‘Then what will you do, since you love to dance?’

‘I shall have to teach my charges the basic steps. Then I will     skip around the nursery with them!’ She finished cleaning the book and put it     carefully in place on the bookshelf. ‘Have you come to spoil my morning with     melancholy thoughts? You will not do it. Last night’s music is still running     through my head.’

It was still in Dominic’s head, too. He wanted to sweep her up     in his arms and carry her around the room, breathing in her fresh, flowery     scent, making her laugh again.

No. To flirt with a pretty girl in a crowded ballroom was     acceptable, to do so with an employee here, under his own roof, would be     madness. He gripped the riding crop tighter, felt the sting as it slapped hard     against his leg. He said curtly, ‘There is still a great deal of work to do     here, Miss Pentewan. Do not let last night’s amusements interfere with your     duties.’

He turned on his heel and marched out, leaving Zelah to gaze     after him. Well! Did he think her so inept, so petty minded that she would be     distracted from her work by an evening’s entertainment? She threw down her     duster in disgust. The morning had been so golden, so wonderful that she had     been eager to reach Rooks Tower and continue with her work. She had been     enjoying herself, carefully cleaning each volume, checking it for damage and     putting in its place ready for cataloguing while in her mind she relived the     pleasures of the evening, but with a few cold words he had destroyed her     pleasure. First he had evoked thoughts of the drudgery that awaited her as a     governess, then he had reminded her—quite unnecessarily—of her duties.

With a little huff of anger she stalked across to the window.     It would serve him right if she walked out now and left him to organise his own     books! Hard on the heels of this mutinous thought was the realisation that Major     Coale could quite easily find someone else to take over, possibly someone much     more competent that she to do the work. Probably a scholar who understood Greek     and Latin and would not need to bother him. Zelah put her hands to her cheeks.     If he should turn her off now, before she had secured another position, she     would be penniless again, living on her family’s charity. It had felt so     rewarding to give her advance wages to Reginald, telling him it was for her keep     and to pay Nicky’s school fees. She needed the second instalment to put aside in     case she fell upon hard times in the future.