Read The Perfect Waltz Online

Authors: Anne Gracie

The Perfect Waltz (44 page)

“Only six.” Giles gave him a satyr’s grin. “But what I lack in years, I make up for in experience.”
“I heard she was as plain as a pikestaff.”
Giles made a disgusted gesture. “Did I truly say that? I was a blind fool! Her looks are not in the common way, but once she stopped doing her hair in that hideous scrape . . .” He sank his head into his hands. “She’s the sweetest little beauty, Bastian.”
Sebastian was enjoying himself enormously. “But you danced with her once. She found you repugnant!
You!

Giles glanced complacently down at his well-formed person. “She has changed her mind,” he purred.
Sebastian shook his head in mock sorrow. “And I thought her a woman of discrimination.”
“She is. She didn’t want you. She wanted me. Shows immensely superior taste, if you ask me.”
“Pooh!” Sebastian waved his hand dismissively. “As I recall, her only passion is for good works. Orphans and charitable causes. Are you a charitable cause then?”
“Far from it!” Giles wagged a finger in reprimand and said smugly, “You have forgotten her fascination for matters scientific.”
Sebastian was surprised by this unexpected turn. “I know of it. But what have
you
to do with matters scientific?”
Giles explained in a dulcet tone, “Lady Elinore is planning to spend the next twenty years or so investigating some of her mother’s theories in greater depth. And I am to be her sole assistant.”
Sebastian could think of at least a dozen of Lady Ennismore’s crackpot theories, none of which was worth more than a cursory glance, let alone twenty years of solid investigation. “You must be joking. What theories?”
Giles looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary and followed it off with a jug of cream. “Those concerning the excitement of uncontrollable masculine passions.”
Sebastian choked.
“I am to be her sole subject,” Giles explained modestly. “It will be an exhausting task, I know, but there is a strong streak of nobility in all the Bemertons, and we
always
rise to the occasion. Besides, you know I’ve always been devoted to . . . science.”
The oak doors opened, and both men’s minds were immediately wiped blank. The organ music swelled, and Sebastian and Giles swallowed, threw out their chests, and took their places by the altar.
Four bridesmaids, achingly lovely in their fresh, bright youthfulness, stepped solemnly down the aisle. First Dorie and Cassie, then Grace, then Faith.
Hope entered, a vision in creamy silk and lace, on her great-uncle’s arm, and Sebastian’s eyes blurred, and he could see no one else, only the woman he adored floating toward him. His beautiful, loving Hope. His Hope, eternally.
Lady Augusta followed, and on her arm was a small, slender woman, Lady Elinore Whitelaw, also dressed in lace. And Giles’s eyes blurred, and he could see no one else, only the woman he loved coming to him. At last.
The organ music came to a final crescendo, the magnificently robed minister stepped forward, and the weddings commenced.
The wedding of Sebastian Reyne and Hope Merridew.
And of Giles Bemerton and Lady Elinore Whitelaw.
 
And afterward there was laughter and tears and much kissing and embracing.
And in the evening there was feasting and music and dancing.
Hope and Sebastian stood kissing on the terrace. The night was warm, the moon was full, and they planned to slip away to make love for the first time as man and wife. As they tiptoed away, the band inside struck up a waltz.
“Dance with me, my husband.” Hope held up her arms. “It’s the last waltz, and you know I never dance it with anyone but you.”
Sebastian made no reply. He’d said very little all day. He doubted that he could. His heart was too full for mere words.
She’d brought him out of the shadows of his past, into her unique, special light. The light of love.
He wrapped himself around his Hope, kissing her deeply. As they kissed, their bodies moved slowly to the music. They danced slowly, sensually, pressed together so closely there was no space at all between their bodies, breast to chest, thigh to thigh. Two people dancing as one, a living part of the music, in the warm night air, bathed in moonlight.
And it was perfect.
Award-winning author
Anne Gracie
spent her childhood and youth on the move. The gypsy life taught her that humor and love are universal languages and that favorite books can take you home, wherever you are. In addition to writing, Anne teaches adult literacy, flings balls for her dog, enjoys her tangled garden, and keeps bees.
Visit her website at
www.annegracie.com
.

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