The Reluctant Husband by Madeleine Conway Page A

toward the realization that he must lie with her, too.
    The musicians were tuning up for the opening bars of a new melody. The restored monarch of France had banned the waltz at his court, but the Ferrières were prepared to defy the ban, since His Majesty had arrived at the ball and left within half an hour, accompanied by the attractive Comtesse du Cayla, his favored companion, and her own particular friend, an unprepossessing man called Villele who, it was rumored, wrote all the letters the comtesse sent to the king. It was widely believed that the ban on dancing the waltz owed more to Louis’s uncertain health and excessive girth than any doubts regarding the suitability of the dance.
    The viscount wound his way through the crowd in search of his Egyptian goddess. He was determined to dance with her. Finding her proved harder than he expected, for several ladies were wearing white and gold, and from the back, it was hard to tell whose identity they had assumed. Finally, he saw the rounded curve of lion’s ears and the shimmering veil concealing her hair. She was choosing between two aspirants for her hand, one in the dress of a courtier under Francis I, the other in the yellow embroidered coat of a Cathay emperor. Ormiston bowed deeply and said, “The lady is promised to me.” He took her outstretched hand and whirled her away as her two attendants stood dumbfounded by his audacity.
    â€œHave I offended?” He spoke in French, but had to wait some moments for her reply.
    â€œRather you should ask if you have sinned,” Cecilia replied faultlessly in the same tongue. She knew it was Ormiston as soon as he spoke.
    He gazed down into her beguiling eyes. “For you are a goddess, and I am instantly in your thrall.”
    â€œHow easily you pledge yourself.” She smiled, but her eyes were cold. Quickly, she veiled them before he could see that his words had angered her. “To how many others have you made pledges so lightly?”
    Ormiston did not check, although his hands tightened around her. She looked up again, once more mistress of her emotions. His eyes searched hers, and she returned his gaze without wavering. He forced himself to relax. He only remembered his child-bride because he was on his way to England to sever the farcical ties which bound him.
    â€œI have made one pledge which will be dissolved. And then I shall be free to worship you as you deserve.”
    â€œWhat if I choose not to wait until you are free?”
    â€œA goddess may rule as she pleases. But she cannot prevent her worshippers from thronging to her altar. But tell me, what do you govern?”
    â€œI am Sekhmet, with power over sunsets and sorrow. In my fury, I will bring down destruction on my enemies, but I can also heal what I hurt.”
    A frisson of discomfort shivered through the viscount, but instantly he dismissed it. She was simply a woman dressed in a costume, playing a game. Well, he would play at her game and see where it would end.
    â€œAnd what of your lovers? Are they all ashes?” As he whirled her around the dance floor, he was assailed by her jasmine scent.
    â€œI cleave only to my consort.”
    â€œDoes he attend tonight?”
    Cecilia chuckled, giddy with the dance and the folly of her dancing partner.
    â€œHe may be close at hand. If he were, you would never be able to distinguish him in this crowd, in any case.”
    â€œIs he complaisant? Does he stand idly by while your worshippers beg for your favors?”
    â€œHe has no need to be complaisant. He has never been betrayed by me. As for those who follow me, their reward is their worship. They require no other favors.”
    He longed to shatter her equilibrium, her air of amused unavailability. She was all enticement and elusiveness. He would be the one to lead her into betrayal, and it would be tonight. The strains of the waltz gave way to a more exuberant polka and as couples jostled and twirled, he