Read Man of the Trees for Free Online Page A
Authors: Hilary Preston
let’s dance, shall we, and leave the talking until later.’
For two pins Ruth would have left the floor and rendered him just standing there partnerless, but she found herself swung around to the music. He was quite an expert, and in the sheer enjoyment of dancing with a good partner, she temporarily forgot her annoyance with this man. But at the same time, after their verbal battles it seemed odd to be held at the waist by him, to have her hand on his shoulder, his hand clasped around hers. She caught a faint, pleasant smell of his after-shave and was strongly aware of his masculinity in a way she never was when dancing with Gareth. Perhaps it was because she was more accustomed to Gareth. Ross Hamilton did not hold her too closely. He was too good a dancer for that.
‘Your father has taught you well,’ Ross observed when they stood and applauded during a break from the music.
It would have been asking too much for him to compliment her directly, she thought ironically.
‘And who taught you?’ she came back.
To her surprise he laughed. ‘I suppose I asked for that. I taught myself, actually.’
‘I see. And how many toes did you tread on in the process?’
‘A few, I imagine.’
All at once he sounded reasonable, and somehow she did not like it. She would rather hit out at him for some extraordinary reason. The music started again, and this time it was a dreamy waltz. The band had obviously decided to play a Glenn Miller medley. Ruth was just wondering whether to excuse herself and look around for Gareth, but willy-nilly Ross Hamilton took command and they were dancing again. This time he held her more closely and she found it a most disturbing experience. To create an even more romantic atmosphere, the lights were dimmed, and all around them couples were dancing cheek to cheek or had their arms about each other in the intimate way her father had said they never did in his day. In case Ross Hamilton should attempt any such intimacy, Ruth arched back a little, but this only seemed to amuse her partner.
‘What’s the matter? Afraid I shall get too romantic?’ he asked mockingly.
She felt she hated him. ‘You’d better not try it,’ she warned him.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said smoothly. ‘It would be like trying to get romantic with a prickly pear.’
She tried to wrench herself away from him, but he held her too firmly. Then as if to tantalise her she felt his cheek touch hers.
‘You would look so silly, rushing away from the dance floor in this crowd,’ he murmured, his lips close to her ear.
‘I don’t care!’
‘Come now.’
His hand left the conventional position of her waist and crept up until it reached her bare flesh. There was a caress in his touch and she wished in a sort of panic that she had not chosen to wear this stupid dress.
‘Mm,’ he murmured in a sensuous sort of way, as if he were obtaining all the satisfaction in the world by the touch.
She closed her eyes resignedly, then felt a tremor run through her. It was ridiculous, but she wanted to put her arms around his neck, to draw him even more closely to her. Whether it was the effort of restraining herself, she could not tell, but a great shudder took possession of her.
He moved back his head and looked at her. ‘What’s this? Are you cold? But you can’t be, unless you have a fever.’
She stared at him, a feeling of helplessness swamping her. Was this the kind of power he had over women, the reason he had such a reputation? She gritted her teeth. She was going to resist him. She was going to resist him with everything she had.
Obviously seeing her expression change, his eyes widened. ‘Ah! I see the light of battle in your eyes again. Let’s call a truce to whatever you’ve got on your mind and just enjoy the rest of the dance.’
Ruth made no reply. She had never before met a man who could evoke in her such a variety of strong emotions. Did he have this effect on other women? she wondered again. Or was it
For two pins Ruth would have left the floor and rendered him just standing there partnerless, but she found herself swung around to the music. He was quite an expert, and in the sheer enjoyment of dancing with a good partner, she temporarily forgot her annoyance with this man. But at the same time, after their verbal battles it seemed odd to be held at the waist by him, to have her hand on his shoulder, his hand clasped around hers. She caught a faint, pleasant smell of his after-shave and was strongly aware of his masculinity in a way she never was when dancing with Gareth. Perhaps it was because she was more accustomed to Gareth. Ross Hamilton did not hold her too closely. He was too good a dancer for that.
‘Your father has taught you well,’ Ross observed when they stood and applauded during a break from the music.
It would have been asking too much for him to compliment her directly, she thought ironically.
‘And who taught you?’ she came back.
To her surprise he laughed. ‘I suppose I asked for that. I taught myself, actually.’
‘I see. And how many toes did you tread on in the process?’
‘A few, I imagine.’
All at once he sounded reasonable, and somehow she did not like it. She would rather hit out at him for some extraordinary reason. The music started again, and this time it was a dreamy waltz. The band had obviously decided to play a Glenn Miller medley. Ruth was just wondering whether to excuse herself and look around for Gareth, but willy-nilly Ross Hamilton took command and they were dancing again. This time he held her more closely and she found it a most disturbing experience. To create an even more romantic atmosphere, the lights were dimmed, and all around them couples were dancing cheek to cheek or had their arms about each other in the intimate way her father had said they never did in his day. In case Ross Hamilton should attempt any such intimacy, Ruth arched back a little, but this only seemed to amuse her partner.
‘What’s the matter? Afraid I shall get too romantic?’ he asked mockingly.
She felt she hated him. ‘You’d better not try it,’ she warned him.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said smoothly. ‘It would be like trying to get romantic with a prickly pear.’
She tried to wrench herself away from him, but he held her too firmly. Then as if to tantalise her she felt his cheek touch hers.
‘You would look so silly, rushing away from the dance floor in this crowd,’ he murmured, his lips close to her ear.
‘I don’t care!’
‘Come now.’
His hand left the conventional position of her waist and crept up until it reached her bare flesh. There was a caress in his touch and she wished in a sort of panic that she had not chosen to wear this stupid dress.
‘Mm,’ he murmured in a sensuous sort of way, as if he were obtaining all the satisfaction in the world by the touch.
She closed her eyes resignedly, then felt a tremor run through her. It was ridiculous, but she wanted to put her arms around his neck, to draw him even more closely to her. Whether it was the effort of restraining herself, she could not tell, but a great shudder took possession of her.
He moved back his head and looked at her. ‘What’s this? Are you cold? But you can’t be, unless you have a fever.’
She stared at him, a feeling of helplessness swamping her. Was this the kind of power he had over women, the reason he had such a reputation? She gritted her teeth. She was going to resist him. She was going to resist him with everything she had.
Obviously seeing her expression change, his eyes widened. ‘Ah! I see the light of battle in your eyes again. Let’s call a truce to whatever you’ve got on your mind and just enjoy the rest of the dance.’
Ruth made no reply. She had never before met a man who could evoke in her such a variety of strong emotions. Did he have this effect on other women? she wondered again. Or was it