Page 44 of A Tenuous Betrothal
His eyes lit. “My pleasure.”
The music to a waltz began.
Prince Marc’s grin grew. “And that, Brothers, is my cue.”
They stepped aside, and Rhi’s heart fluttered when he took her hand.
“I admit this is the highlight of the evening for me, as I predicted it would be.” He placed a hand at her back. They were close enough that their breath almost mingled. She could see every smile line, the separate strands of his thick, dark hair, his warm smile, the different flecks of gold in his blue eyes. The interest in his gaze.
“I’m holding out to the end to tell you my admissions.” She raised her eyebrows in challenge, but her toes tingled in anticipation.
They moved together, and he made it easy to follow his lead. They stepped to the familiar three-beat count, but soon he was spinning and twirling and moving them about the room as though they were flying. And she loved every minute of it.
“You are an amazing dancer,” she breathed.
“I have rarely found a woman who could match my steps so well.”
“We do seem well suited.” She didn’t know if she was bold or overstepping. In truth, she could not read him. And she wished to. “What are you thinking?”
His eyes twinkled. “About this moment or about our unique situation?”
“Both.” She dared him to be honest. She prayed he would be.
“I am thinking how empowering it is for a man to have a woman as beautiful as you gift him with such a hopeful expression.” His gaze over her skin felt like a caress.
“You are too kind.”
“You underestimate your influence. A man could do almost anything required of him with the right woman at his side.”
She nodded slowly. “I suppose the counter is also true.”
“I would imagine so.”
His jaw was at eye level. She tilted to see the sincerity sparkling in his eyes. “And about our situation?”
He slowed their movement, and was it her imagination, or had he pulled her closer? The world slowed and his lips became its center. How could she ever think of another thing besides what it might feel like to be cradled in his arms, his hands at her back, pulling her close, with those lips pressed to hers? She’d never felt so influenced by her own desires. Without any thought, her hand went up into his hair, the other gripping his shoulder.
His eyes darkened. They stopped moving. His head tilted ever so slightly, and she wet her mouth.
But Prince Kristoff’s laugh woke them both. With a start, Prince Marc began their dance again, and she cleared her throat.
“Our situation, you ask?” His eyes were full of understanding and perhaps an apology.
Would he have kissed her?
“I am deeply conflicted.” His chuckle was low and slow.
“How so?”
“I was caught with a sharp jealousy that Henri would walk with you in the park. I wanted to punch Lord Carmine. And I did, in fact.” His chagrin was only slight.
“What?”
“At Jackson’s. It was all perfectly gentlemanly.” He winked. “But I admit to enjoying it immensely.”
“I see.” Though, she wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to say.
“All of your partners are good men, and I’d be dashed miserable if you chose a single one of them.”
