Meanwhile, back with Lady J:
When the last of the undead have been brained, and the infected quarantined in another room, I go back to Miss Whomever to retrieve my fan. As I turn around, there is Darcy standing far closer to me than is appropriate. I can actually feel the heat of his body. He has his jacket back on, which is a shame, but his hair his beautifully tussled from the fight and sweat.
“Would you grant me the great honor and pleasure of this next dance?” he asks.
I’m about to swoon or faint or do a dance of joy, I’m not sure.
But ever so coolly, I manage to say, “Allow me a moment to fetch my shoe.”
~*~
*Guest Blogger, J.T. of Bibliofreak
- guest post titled: We Danced, We Slayed, Not Necessarily in That Order (cont.)
