Page 6 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“Lord Tetterington and Lord Governor Nightingale.” The very thought of either vampire so close made her skin crawl.

“Intriguing,” Camilla murmured and turned to her companion to whisper something in her ear. The Caersan blushed, nodded, and slid from the couch and out of the room. Camilla returned her attention to Ariadne and stood, holding out a hand. “Let us take a turn about the room, doll, and speak plainly since others believe it acceptable to whisper behind their hands.”

The room quietened, the other guests snapping their lips closed at Camilla’s sharp words. Several slipped out the door, casting wicked glares over their shoulders.

In their wake, a weight lifted from Ariadne. She had always enjoyed Camilla’s unabashed approach to any situation. In that moment, she was especially thankful for her friend’s directness.

She stood and looped her arm through Camilla’s.

“Now, doll,” she said, louder than necessary as they moved around the sitting room so those who remained could hear them, “who else do you have on your dance card?”

Ariadne raised the wrist bearing the small, folded card and waved it about. “No one else of note, except…”

“Except?” Camilla lifted an elegant brow. “And who is the Caersan who caught your eye?”

She cast her friend a meaningful look as if to say, You know exactly who. Nonetheless, Camilla watched her with interest. This was a purposeful tactic to expose her intentions to others. Those remaining in the room listened closely.

“General Gard.” Ariadne tried to ignore the collective intake of breath and remain focused on the woman leading her around the back of the couch where they began.

Camilla, satisfied by this answer, asked, “And do you believe he shares your interest?”

“I do not like to speculate.”

“Doll,” she said, exasperated. “That is precisely what we are here to do.”

A long moment passed in which the other women pretended to engage in conversation while turning an ear toward them to listen. No doubt Camilla wanted each of them to spread the word that Ariadne Harlow was sought after by the highest-ranking military officer—the brother of her late fiancé, nonetheless. The position, second only to the Princeps, put Loren in the running to replace her father when he retired.

“I believe he does,” Ariadne admitted. At least she hoped he did. Of all the Caersan, the general understood her best. Their shared loss and his care after she had been rescued from the mountains highlighted their connection.

Camilla patted her hand and stopped at the door. “Then why not find him now and dance?”

No Caersan vampire appealed to Loren Gard except Ariadne Harlow. He had danced with the beauties of the Vertium ball, her sister included, and found each of them wanting. Their vapid personalities and incessant giggling irked him.

He stood on the outskirts of the ballroom, scanning each dancer’s face for the Princeps’s elder daughter, yet could not find her after Alek Nightingale. The Lord Governor of Waer was, perhaps, his biggest rival in the competition for her affections. Their long-standing history provided a foundation of trust and commonalities. The lord’s dark exploits, while only rumored, may not have been enough to break the two apart.

Loren, however, planned to do just that.

So when the quartet let the last note of the song die and everyone bowed at the end of the dance, he set his glass of wine on the nearest surface and set off on a mission. He had worked too hard over the last year to build a connection with Ariadne to let it go to waste. Several Caersan women curtsied as he swept by, hoping he’d take notice of them, but he kept his focus ahead, ignoring the distractions around him.

And there she was, slipping out of the sitting room with Camilla Dodd on her heels. A light sparked in Ariadne’s eyes when their gazes connected, and something primal curled in his chest. He would have her, and no one could stop him.

“General Gard.” Her voice, like an angel’s, washed through him, stoking the possessiveness within him. She curtsied low.

“Miss Harlow.” He swept into a bow and kissed her fingertips. “May I have the next dance?”

Ariadne seemed to glow at the question, and Camilla knocked into her with a shoulder. Her cheeks flushed, and those perfect lips parted. What he would give to feel them caressing his body.

“It would be my honor,” she said and took his offered arm. Behind her, Camilla smirked and winked at him, then turned away. On a typical night, he would not approve of Ariadne consorting with a woman like Camilla Dodd, but tonight, he would be grateful for the brazen influence. Anything to put him in better standing.

He led her to the center of the ballroom as the strings began their next song. He bowed and she curtsied, then he swept her into his arms.

The quadrille pulled her away from him almost instantly, allowing him to study her figure from a better vantage point. She moved with grace even when she watched her own feet to keep herself steady. If anything, her uncertainty only made her that more attractive. Not a glimmer of prudishness.

As they came back together, she smiled up at him, and it was not only the yearning in his chest which throbbed at her delight. He had yet to see her look at any other Caersan the way she did him. Not even Alek.

He turned, releasing her hands again, and found a sea of eyes on them. Even the hulking guard in the corner seemed to watch from his station at the far side of the room. His chest swelled with pride. She would be his.

“You are stunning,” Loren said when she returned to him. “I admit, I am quite taken with you.”

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