‘In the same way that you could let me see you dance?’ he said.
She scowled at him. ‘It’s not the same at all.’
His gaze grew warm, his expression softened.
‘Allora, dimmi perché?’he asked. Then tell me why. Said too gently and in Italian.
She wished he wouldn’t do that. Again it whispered over her skin. Why couldn’t he stay the uninterested creature he’d been before?
‘It’s just for me. It’s always been just for me.’
‘So you’ve said but that still doesn’t explain why. Please, I’d like to know.’
She shuffled a foot en pointe back and forth, wondering how much to share. Wondering how it was he made herwantto share.
‘It’s because it feels like a rebellion against all the strictures placed on my life.’
‘Go on.’
Outside a poplar tree swayed back and forth in the gale. Despite the forces at work, it still looked graceful and strong.
‘When my sister ran away and I became heir to the duchy, any small freedoms I’d been allowed were instantly curtailed. My father had always been strict, but it became even worse after Francesca left. He took everything but ballet. That he allowed me to keep. He said it would keep me slender and give me poise, so I’d look good for you and be a credit to you. As if that was all I could ever be. An addendum to you.’
His brow knotted. ‘I’m sorry. That’s not what I would have wanted.’
‘Isn’t it?’ She speared him with an angry glare. ‘Isn’t that precisely what you wanted from me? You’d have taken the time to get to know me better otherwise.’
His mouth opened but he closed it again. He remained silent. She was right.
‘Despite that, they didn’t drive the joy of dance out of me. I love it,’ she said. ‘The creativity. The hidden strength behind the beautiful, sinuous shapes I can make with my body. But I won’t share that. My family never cared about what I could achieve.’
And neither would Leo, she thought, despite his apparent interest now. He just wanted to persuade her to marry him.
‘That’s why, apart from my dancing tutors and a few classmates, no one has ever seen me perform.’
When required she danced with partners at social occasions with the staid gliding around the floor, but, while she was graceful, she’d never once set free her dancing heart.
She’d learned long ago to conceal her true self. It was so easy to be dismissed and ridiculed. She remembered her mother, forever deferring to her husband, undermined and excluded. Gradually losing all faith that she could make a decision herself. Becoming precisely the kind of creature her menfolk imagined she was all along. Francesca had eloped to save herself, but that was not going to be Violetta’s fate. She would have her independence. She’d learned to bide her time. She would achieve her dreams and she’d have them on her terms.
Leo was the only thing standing in the way of that. However charming he was being right now.
She must remember he’d had her staff removed. It must have been him because why would her uncle have done that? The regent had little interest in her, yes, but cruel? No. She doubted he actually gave his niece a moment’s thought once she’d left her weekly, perfunctory meetings with him. He was too busy running the duchy, so why would he have arranged for her staff to be dismissed?
It all pointed to her future husband, making sure his bride was only surrounded by those loyal to him, so he could do exactly what he wanted in the grand duchy.
Well, he wasn’t getting his hands on it.
Even if those hands were beautiful. Her neck tingled at the memory of his fingers moving across her skin.
She moved away from him, putting the kitchen table between them. He narrowed his eyes on her, sensing the shift in her mood perhaps.
‘Now you’re being so frank, why don’t you tell me the real reason you won’t marry me?’ It was quietly spoken but a steely certainty ran through it. It said, I know you’re lying. ‘When I touched you before your shudder had nothing to do with revulsion. As you so charmingly mentioned earlier, I’ve had enough experience to know the difference.’
He came round the table towards her, removing the only barrier between them. He was lean and powerful. A prowling wolf on the hunt and she had nowhere to run. She gripped a chair back so hard her knuckles turned white.
What could he do if she told him now? Nothing. They were trapped here until tomorrow at least. Her instinct was to get this over with, be honest with him. After what she’d done today, perhaps she owed him that after all. She released her grip on the chair, turned and lifted her chin to stare right into those fierce eyes.
Facing him down.