There was always that pause, the beat before the music began when one was supposed to take a breath. But Elsie couldn’t breathe at all.
‘Elsie?’ He nodded, a gorgeous encouragement. ‘Make some music.’
She barely hummed and only for long enough to establish the rhythm. He picked it up and led her into a waltz—intimate yet constrained.
They were in a bubble of their own. The atmosphere thickened, heated. Touching him? Finally feeling the breadth of his shoulders, the leashed strength in his achingly near body, unlocked something that had long been caged. Something she hadn’t wanted to admit existed, let alone allow out. It was a part of her she’d wanted to hide. Greed.
She couldn’t hum anything any more, but the rhythm between them pulsed regardless and they slowly danced down the darkening corridor. As they passed each low burning light, she caught the gleam in his eyes—the considering look, the curve of his lips.
‘Where are you taking me?’ She was breathless—as if they’d been dancing a foxtrot, not a carefully controlled waltz.
‘Somewhere secret.’
He released her to open a door. A flick made lights illuminate the room.
She paused and took in the glittering space. ‘You have a whole other ballroom?’
It was smaller than the one downstairs currently filled with visiting dignitaries from nations around the world, but equally stunning—if not more. This one was gold—figurines and frescoes—cherubs and smiling nymphs all in suggestive scenes.
‘This is a salon for private performances,’ he explained.
‘Private performances?’ She shot him a look. ‘What sort of performances?’
‘Not the sort you’re thinking. At least, not in the last decade or two. Maybe last century it was for—’
‘Orgies?’
‘Perhaps my forefathers enjoyed personal dances here.’ He held out his hand, inviting her to dance again, only this time in this gorgeous small ballroom.
So easily she slid back into temptation—where all that mattered was his touch, his movement, his nearness, his damned breath. Could she let his seduction happen so easily?
‘I think Amalia enjoyed tonight,’ she muttered, desperately trying to distract herself for just a second.
His shoulder tightened. ‘It’ll be better for her at boarding school.’
‘Do you think?’ Elsie’s heart ached. ‘Is it not a fairy tale to be rescued by a brother who’s a king—taken to an idyllic island in the middle of the Mediterranean? To live in a palace and not have to worry?’
‘It’s no fairy tale.’ His expression twisted. ‘She lacks friends her own age and normal freedoms.’
Yeah, Elsie had been aware of the girl’s isolation when she’d first met her at the café. ‘You still don’t want her to stay here?’
‘The press were beyond cruel to Amalia’s mother and to my own. I want to protect Amalia from that future. The only reason she’s not already at boarding school is because she needed time to recover, not just from her own injuries, but from the loss of her parents.’
Had Felipe recovered? It was his father who’d died too. In fact, Elsie realised, Felipe had lost his father twice—years ago when he’d abdicated, then again when he’d died in the accident. How had he adjusted to that? And to his mother vowing never to return to the palace?
Elsie had been older than him when she’d lost her mother. And then she’d been ostracised by everyone. People she’d considered close hadn’t believed in her innocence. It had been so easy for them to think the worst, so easy for them to cast her out alone. Alone sucked. Alone was hard. Elsie didn’t want either Amalia or Felipe to be alone and they didn’t need to be. They could have each other. Amalia had reached out already tonight when she’d asked about the pearls. If Felipe allowed it...
‘But she’s okay here, Felipe,’ she said nervously.
‘Tonight she smiled for the first time in weeks. Thank you for that.’
‘It wasn’t me.’ It had been him.
His gaze intensified. ‘You don’t think?’
In the distance a clock chimed. By unspoken agreement they stilled, counting the beats. Twelve. Midnight. As the last chime resonated through the room, there was a sudden volley of bangs like gunfire. She jumped in fright. Only this time he had hold of her. And this time he pulled her closer.
‘Fireworks,’ he murmured.