He grinned and walked her backward until she was against the wall that adjoined the ballroom. "Splendid, for I am feeling very yang."
He pulled off his gloves and slid them into his coat pocket, then began kissing her again. This time his hands roamed over her body, teasing and caressing his way down her torso.
"My old governess was right when she warned me that the waltz is a dangerous dance," Sara said weakly as she leaned back against the wall for support.
"A wise woman, your governess." He breathed soft warm air into her ear, with devastating effect. "What else did she warn you about?" Cupping his hands around her buttocks, he pulled Sara hard against him.
Feeling fire in her loins, she replied breathlessly, "To beware of wolves in sheep's clothing."
"Is that what I am, silken Sara?"
"More like a wolf in wolf's clothing." The orchestra struck up another tune. Sara felt the music pulsate inside her body, vibrating through her slippers into the sensitive soles of her feet. "My governess would not approve of you."
"Good, for I am sure I would not approve of her." Mikahl spread his palm over her mons veneris and moved it in a slow circle. The mount of Venus, the Cinnabar Gate.
"You are quite—quite shameless." Sara felt as if she was about to burst into flame. "Please," she begged, "let us leave now—I shall go mad if we don't go home at once."
"I admit to being shameless, but it is not time to leave. At least, not yet." He bent to lift the hem of her gown, then straightened and slid his hand between her silk-clad thighs.
"A-a-h-hh," Sara breathed, her eyes drifting shut as waves of sensation pulsed through her. A good thing that this room did not have a decent sofa, or they would be on it disgracing themselves. The fabric of the black pantalets was so sheer that his warm hand might have almost been on her naked flesh.
Her eyes shot open as she realized that his deft fingers were indeed touching bare flesh, probing into her moist, intimate depths. "How...?" After a moment she guessed that the pantalets must have an open seam. He had given them to her just before they came to the ball, and she had donned them quickly, not noticing.
"You devil!" Startled, her fingers involuntarily curled into his upper arms. "So that is why you wanted me to wear them. Were you planning this?"
He laughed, a rich, deep male sound of satisfaction. "I didn't know if this house had a place where we could be private. But if it did, I wanted to be prepared."
A small, well-bred part of Sara's mind was shocked at the sheer carnality of what he was doing. It was one thing to lie with one's husband in a bed, or even in a private spot in the garden; but to do so in the middle of a ball, where half the people Sara knew, including her father, were within fifty yards of her?
But the rest of Sara's mind and all of her body were beyond shock, except for the shock of loss when he lifted his hand. "Shall I stop, sweet Sara?" he murmured. "Behave with propriety?"
"Don't you dare!" she gasped. "The only thing worse than being depraved is being a depraved tease."
"Very well, my little vixen. One thing I have learned is to obey my lady's commands."
There was a sound of slipping buttons and loosening fabric. He gave a sigh of relief, then put his hands beneath Sara's buttocks and lifted her, bracing her between the wall and his own solid torso. Acting more from instinct than conscious thought, Sara grasped and guided him as he slowly lowered her. She inhaled sharply at the fierce rightness of his entry.
"How does this feel?" he whispered when they were locked together, Sara's silk-stockinged legs wrapped tight around him.
"Splendid. Decadent. Quite, quite mad," she replied raggedly as she rotated her hips, feeling him deep inside her.
To her satisfaction, her movement annihilated his control, and he surged into her. "Ah, God, Sara, you are air and fire and heart's blood," he groaned, his breath roughening to match his strokes.
Sara's rustling petticoats foamed around them, and her cheek pressed into his shoulder as they melded into the ultimate dance. They were close, so close, both physically and mentally. Perhaps she should have been alarmed by her precarious position, but she was not, for she had absolute trust in her husband.
It was hot, sweet sex, made almost unbearably erotic by the knowledge that other people were so close. But they were private here and harming no one by their madness. An intimate universe of passion that filled Sara's heart, mind, and body, then shattered into a kaleidoscope of rapture. Her teeth sank into his shoulder and she shuddered uncontrollably, her violent movements triggering a matching response from her husband.