“Fantastic, thank you. And you?” She refused to rise to the challenge in his eyes and mention the dress.
Gaze laughing, he said, “Very well. It’s so much easier to rest knowing your dreams are on the brink of coming true.”
Hel snorted, “I would think that might make it harder to sleep.”
He brushed the back of her hand as he reached for the butter and said softly, “Maybe it’s just your calming influence.”
Hel laughed out loud. No one had ever called her influence calming. Her father had called it an embarrassment, a shame, unnatural, defiant, upsetting, disgusting and all manner of other things, but never calming.
That Drake did, as untrue as it was, soothed feathers she hadn’t realized were ruffled. She might not be calm, but that had never made her unpleasant. It was nice to know someone beside her mother thought so.
“So what’s on the agenda for today? A romantic beach walk? Dinner and a movie? A private boat ride down the river?”
His habitual smile only grew in the face of her sass.
“Hardly, I wasn’t born common.” He winked, but his words were an eerie echo of her father...and yet, from Drake, they were silly rather than cutting. “I thought we would play tennis.”
She started. She couldn’t remember her last game of tennis, and in truth, a match sounded...wonderful.
“After our rather active day yesterday, I thought it’d be a good way to get the kinks out,” he said, putting words to her thoughts exactly.
Light, fun, easy—tennis would be perfect. And separated by a net, she wouldn’t have to worry about touching.
He instructed his staff to find more appropriate attire for her and they met on the court twenty minutes later.
She’d been told all they’d have was a classic white skort and simple white halter top, but she had suspicions the close fit and short length were more intended for the enjoyment of Drake than her mobility on the court.
The match started out fast and strong. Drake had an incredibly powerful serve and precise aim. Hel was light on her feet, with a reach to boot, and the combination kept them evenly matched.
As he served for his last point, Hel was struck by his arresting physique. The man was truly a work of art, all power and heat, and it was all she could do to keep up. Something he only proved true with his serve. Diving toward the far left corner when she’d been positioned on the right, she barely missed the ball with the edge of her racket, cursing when both her body and the ball made contact with the court.
Drake was at her side in a moment, leaning over her, backlit by the sun, concern on his face.
“Are you all right?” he asked, gently probing her exposed skin.
His touch was featherlight and gentle, not in the least sexual, and yet her body reacted as if they were already in bed together, skin prickling, instantly sensitized to every caress, even just that of the warm, dry air of Calla. Their eyes locked, blue and brown meeting on a shore as old as man and woman, holding both of them at a standstill.
Secrets and deep emotions churned behind his gaze, and though she feared where such an undertow might carry her, she was tempted to dive in, anyway.
Eyes dropping to his lips, she found herself wetting her own and swallowing, suddenly thirsty, though not, she realized, for water.
She wanted him to kiss her again, she wanted him to look at her with that teasing flirtation that tempted her to forget who she was just on the chance he might let her run her fingers down his skin.
She wanted to see the look in his eyes she’d seen when they kissed—electric, intense, a little surprised. Looking up at him, far from home and completely at the mercy of the Big Bad Wolf, she had the horrifying realization that she wanted him to seduce her, and that meant she was in way over her head.
His plan was unfolding perfectly. They’d parted ways, the air charged between them, at the tennis court, and the look in her eyes had been undeniable. After an evening of rest, and a leisurely morning and afternoon, she was exactly where he wanted her: hungry for more.
The enchantment of the Calla night market was famous throughout Sidra. With its abundance of hand-painted paper lanterns and string lights, the dancing aromas of fresh-cooked local food, roasting meats and hot, sweet treats, and his talented artisans, farmers and craftspeople on display, it would be a seduction of the senses in itself.
He had worked hard to turn Calla into the prosperous, cheerful port town it had become—it could do work for him in return.
Hel smiled a blinding aristocratic smile at every vendor she met.
Somewhere along the way, she collected a patterned woven basket, which was overfilled with other free offerings from vendors as they made their way through the market.
She mesmerized everyone she encountered, despite the language difference. It wasn’t a shock that she caught attention—she was movie-star beautiful and had a presence about her, was utterly confident and relaxed.
What surprised him, though, was the effort she put into it. She went out of her way to be kind to everyone she met, trying offered foods and dutifully examining every item and tasting every morsel she was presented with.