Chapter One #3
His eyes flicked to her lips and held there a moment.
Deep inside, she was conscious of the way her heart began to rush a little faster.
His hand, so much bigger than hers, reached out and curved over hers.
She was glad for the silky glove she wore and the protection it gave her from being skin to skin with this man.
Unlike many of the other male guests, he didn’t wear gloves of his own and she could see his tanned, strong fingers in all their glory.
Glory?
Hands?
She closed her eyes quickly, reassuring herself she’d had only a few sips of mulled wine and was not under the effects of alcohol.
‘Javier Diamandi.’
Her eyes widened as she instantly realised why there was something familiar about this man. The brother of Otto Diamandi, with whom she’d been dancing earlier. They were alike, but somehow different.
‘I know your brother.’
‘I presumed as much.’
There was something in his tone that sparked her curiosity. A sense of reserve, of carefully cultivated blandness that she suspected spoke of far deeper feelings. Years of perceiving and reading people had left her with flawless skills in that department.
‘Oh?’
‘You were just dancing together.’
‘That’s true.’ Her eyes shifted across the room, to where Otto was standing at the banquet table, in conversation with two other men. ‘I’ve known him a long time.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘You’re not impressed either.’
She shifted her gaze back to his to find a hint of surprise in the depths of his eyes, but he stayed silent.
‘You don’t live in the country?’
‘No.’
She kept her expression carefully neutral. ‘And you don’t come back often?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I feel sure Otto would have mentioned you.’
‘How well do you know my brother?’
If she’d been raised with the liberty of reacting visibly to her feelings while in public, she might have frowned. Instead, her eyes flickered the slightest amount as she contemplated the slight pause as he asked the question and why he might have asked it at all.
‘We see one another at events such as this.’
He nodded thoughtfully.
‘He’s the only man you’ve danced with tonight.’
Her heart turned over. That was a danger in and of itself. The last thing she wanted was for the rumour mill to swing into action before she was ready. Before she’d made a decision about the man she wanted to be her husband.
‘He’s the only person to ask me.’
She heard the challenge in the statement and told herself it had been unexpected. Told herself she wasn’t holding her breath and hoping in a way she’d never known to hope before.
‘How remiss of everyone else here. How can they have left you standing on your own so long?’
Something unfamiliar trembled inside of her. A sense of want. She ignored it out of habit but it was difficult to completely suppress it.
‘I suppose most people feel I’m unapproachable.’
‘Why do I suspect you quite like that?’
She bit back a gasp.
‘I have no idea.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘Are you implying I’m lying? Because I have to tell you, I’m pretty sure some arcane law still exists that would have you put in prison for treason…’
‘For daring to suggest her majesty is anything other than scrupulous at all times?’
Her lips twisted with a hint of genuine amusement. It was like a flash of warmth, because it had been so long since she’d felt anything other than performative appropriateness.
‘Indeed. So, which is it to be? Prison or a retraction?’
‘Perhaps there’s a third option.’
‘And what might that be, Javier?’
A thrill rushed over her as she said his name. She husked the first syllable, as he had when he’d introduced himself, and could almost taste the raw masculinity of it.
‘Dance with me, Your Majesty.’
Her stomach twisted and her nerves leaped into action. Dance with me. Outwardly, she was the calm, reserved person she was renowned for being, but inside everything was going haywire.
‘How does that undo your crime?’
‘You’ve never danced with me.’
‘Are you saying you’re that good?’
Heat spread inside her at the unintended, but entirely delicious, double entendre.
She was aware of their surroundings and of the ballroom full of dignitaries.
In the back of her mind, she was distantly aware of the danger she’d be in if they weren’t in the midst of such a crowd.
If it were just the two of them, alone, in a room such as this.
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
Her eyes flared at the way his voice rasped, his meaning abundantly clear.
Despite her best efforts and years of practice, her voice emerged slightly off-kilter.
‘You do realise you’ll become the centre of attention for a week or so, as the country speculates on us being wildly in love.’
His eyes ran across her face and she felt a litany of questions he wasn’t asking. A statement he didn’t utter.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve cared what anyone has to say about me. And believe me, love is the last thing on my mind.’
‘In that case…’ She held her hand out to his once more, pleased that it gave no hint of the way her nerves were trembling. ‘Let’s dance.’