Page 33 of The Bride Wore White

“You owe me this dance. If you won’t take the floor with me, I’ll find someone who will. Maybe one of these nice waiters—”

“That sounds a lot like blackmail.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?”

“Fine. You win. This time.”

He got up, seized her hand, and hauled her down the aisle and onto the crowded dance floor. She went into his arms with the triumphant air of a battlefield general who had just won a decisive victory.

“The war isn’t over, lady,” he growled.

“Oh, look,” she said, her eyes suspiciously bright behind the veil. “You do know how to dance.”

“And how to lead.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

He flattened his palm against the small of her back and pulled her closer. She smelled good and she felt good. It really had been a long time since he’d had a woman in his arms.

?They walked out of the nightclub into a disorienting, senses-dazzling hail of camera flashbulbs. As Luther had promised, the press was waiting. Shutters clicked. The reporters and photographers crowded around, shouting questions and instructions.

“Look this way, Madame Ariadne. That’s it.”

“Over here, Madame Ariadne. How about raising the veil and giving me a smile?”

Jack felt Prudence tighten her grip on his arm, but aside from that small move, she gave no indication that she was anxious or unnerved. He steered her toward the waiting Packard. Fortunately he had put the top up on the convertible before leaving the house that evening.

The valet saw them approaching and opened the passenger side door. Jack sensed Prudence trying to quicken their pace. He applied some subtle braking action.

“We don’t want to look like we’re trying to run,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

Reluctantly she slowed her steps to match his. The scrum of photographers followed, flashbulbs exploding. The questions kept coming.

“Is your new client here gonna survive his private psychic readings, Madame Ariadne? Or is he gonna end up like your last client in San Francisco?”

Jack gave Prudence a sidelong look. Outwardly she was notdisplaying any emotion aside from cool, sophisticated reserve, but she was clenching his arm as if hanging on for dear life.

“Not much farther,” he said quietly.

“Can you really kill a man with your psychic energy, Madame Ariadne? They say that’s what happened to your last client in San Francisco.”

A shock wave shivered through Prudence. Jack felt it all the way to his bones. He eased her into the front seat and closed the door. He went swiftly around the long hood of the Packard, got behind the wheel, and put the big car in gear.

Another round of flashbulbs lit up the night as he drove away from the Paradise.

Chapter 14

Afraught silence gripped the front seat of the Packard. Jack made no attempt to break it. After a few minutes, Prudence recovered her cool aplomb.

“Do you really think your plan will work?” she asked.

“Ninety-six percent probability that it will,” he said, turning onto Cliff Road.

“How soon will we know?”

“The news that Madame Ariadne is living in Burning Cove and working as a private dream reader will hit the local paper in the morning. The photos will go out on the wire, and the San Francisco papers will have the story in the afternoon editions. I think we will be hearing from Clara Dover soon after that.”

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