For Your Arms Only by Linden, Caroline (best ebook reader for ubuntu .TXT) 📕

the corner at the foot of the back stairs, down on one knee with a small plate in his outstretched hand. Two tiny pairs of slippers scrambled out of sight, and a little girl’s voice said, “Mama said we mustn’t.”

“Hmm.” As Cressida watched, he selected a tiny cake, little larger than a thimble, from the plate and popped it into his mouth. “Did she also say you must stay in bed?” The little girls, who must be his nieces, said nothing. “These are very good,” the major added. “I wouldn’t blame anyone who wanted just one.”

She should go. She was eavesdropping, and spying, and Granny would be horrified at her. Cressida knew all this even as she stayed where she was. There was something in the major’s voice that entranced her and kept her silent and still.

A small hand crept out and took one of the cakes, then another one. The major ate another delicacy from his plate, a smile on his lips. Cressida wet her lips and swallowed. She had grudgingly admitted he was handsome even when he was somber and doing his best to provoke her temper. Now he was at ease and at home, and Cressida thought she would be in serious danger if he ever looked at her that way. Not that it was likely, but her conversation with Callie had fixed her thoughts on men and marriage and made her wonder, what if…It was bad luck the major happened to be the first handsome, unmarried, smiling man she saw, Cressida told herself. She didn’t even like him…just the way he smiled that small, secret smile for two little girls sneaking out of bed.

“Do you like the party so far?” he asked them. One pair of slippers slid back into view as the owner leaned forward to take another treat. Major Hayes silently extended the plate, and she took another. Cressida saw the gleam of blond curls; that was Patience, the older girl.

“Not much,” she said. “We like to see dancing, and no one is dancing.”

“No.” He looked down for a second. “I don’t think Grandmama meant it to be that sort of party.”

“I thought all parties had dancing.” Patience reached for the plate again, her prior reluctance fading quickly. “They used to, before Papa died.”

The major inhaled audibly. “I am sure there will be dancing again soon. Your papa would want you to be happy and see dancing, and someday dance yourself.”

“I don’t know how to dance!” She giggled.

“You will learn,” he told her. “And you, too, Grace.”

There was a rush of whispering in high, sweet childish voices. A second, smaller, pair of feet slipped into view. Grace, Marianne’s younger daughter, reached out and took a cake from the plate.

“Don’t tell Mama we said so,” said Patience. “We aren’t to bother you, Mama said.” She stopped abruptly.

“And you are not bothering me.” Major Hayes put the depleted plate of cakes on the floor. “But you made me think of dancing, and now I want to dance more than anything. Will you dance with me, Miss Patience?”

She giggled again. “No!”

He drew back. “No?”

“No!” she said again, happily.

He sighed, then turned to her sister. “Will you dance with me, Miss Grace?”

To Cressida’s surprise, the tiny girl slid off the stair and put up her arms. He got to his feet and took her little hands in his, twirling her in circles and making her white nightgown bell out around her. A wide, nervous smile brightened her face, and then Patience jumped in, clapping her hands until her uncle gave her one hand and twirled her around, too. Both little girls stayed quiet, as if mindful they would be sent to bed if their mother discovered them, although their giggles grew louder as the major spun them in wider circles and finally scooped up Patience and swung her off her feet. Then he swung Grace, and Cressida felt her heart wobble at the open grin he wore. This was a side of the major she had never seen, and didn’t expect.

After he had swung them each a few times, he set them back down. “You had best run along to bed now,” he said. “Dancing wears a fellow out.”

“It was fun!” said Patience, hopping up and down in excitement. “You won’t tell Mama we were out of bed, will you?”

“Not unless she asks me directly. Now go, before she finds out on her own.”

“Oh! Come, Grace,” she said, taking her little sister’s hand. “Good night, Uncle!” With more giggling and some thumping, the girls disappeared up the stairs.

Cressida belatedly realized she should slip away, but before she could take a step, the major had turned in her direction.

“Would you also like to dance, Miss Turner?”

Her face burned. “Oh, n-no,” she stammered. “I—I am sorry, I did not mean to spy. I was just in search of a breath of fresh air…”

He smiled, and made no mention of the fact that she could have gotten to the garden directly from the drawing room. “Ah. I should hate to keep you from it.” He swept out one hand in wordless invitation, and she ducked her head and hurried past him, to the back of the house and out the door there. It would be better if he didn’t follow her; it would certainly be easier for her. But she knew he would, and wasn’t at all surprised when his footsteps sounded behind her on the flagstones.

“So, have you made up your mind yet about me?”

She gave a guilty start. Alec prowled a step closer. He found he could bear the scorn and distrust well enough from almost everyone else, but for some reason he felt compelled to press her on the issue. Perhaps it was the way that, despite the guilty start, she was still standing her ground, looking up at him with her chin raised and her eyes glowing. Everyone else glanced away to avoid his gaze or looked in fear of their lives if he spoke to them.