‘Come and sit down!’ exclaimed Ellen. ‘Over here! Our guests of honour.’
Bianca slid into her seat as Xanthos took his place beside her and she turned to him. ‘Isn’t this wonderful?’
‘Absolutely wonderful,’ he murmured, and she prayed that nobody else had picked up on his sardonic undertone.
Course after course of delicious food arrived. Fish and pastries, berries and bon-bons—all served on what was obviously the best china and accompanied by glasses of the rich local wine. Fortunately the chatter around the table was so voluble that nobody seemed to notice that she and Xanthos merely picked at their food, or if they did they were too polite to mention it.
When the feast was over and Bianca was wondering whether they should make their excuses and leave, the old man got up from the table and went to a corner of the room. Picking up his accordion, he started to play a tune which brought shouts of delighted recognition and, immediately, several people got up to dance.
‘Dance with your wife, Xanthos!’ urged Ellen encouragingly.
‘She’s not—’
‘A very good dancer!’ interjected Bianca hastily, jumping to her feet and smiling as she held out her hands to him. ‘But who cares about that?’
Which left Xanthos with no choice other than to pull her into his arms—something which, contrarily, would have been at the very bottom and very top of his wish-list, at exactly the same time. ‘Why the hell did you say that?’ he growled, into her hair.
‘Say what?’
‘Implying we were married.’
‘It just seemed easier,’ she whispered back, her breath soft and warm against his ear. ‘Relax, Xanthos. I’m not planning on frogmarching you up the aisle any time soon.’
He closed his eyes as the jaunty chords of the accordion echoed around the room and other couples swayed nearby and thought how good she felt as she moved against him. Indecently good. When had been the last time he had danced with a woman? He frowned. Had heeverdanced with a woman? He didn’t reallydodancing, but maybe he’d been missing out for all these years. He could feel her breasts pushing into his chest, sending arrows of desire straight to his groin. ‘Mmm...’ he said, without thinking.
She drew back, her green eyes questioning. ‘“Mmm...” what?’
‘I guess it’s not so bad after all,’ he conceded, as he whirled her around and he could hear the sound of her soft laughter beneath the notes of the accordion.
They danced until trays of sour-cherry drinks were handed around and the evening concluded with a group of children who arrived to entertain them with a medley of Vargmalian Christmas carols. A mixed clutch of pre-teens began to sing, including a boy whose voice hadn’t broken—and whose delivery of the top notes sounded like an angel soaring through the now silent room. It was an emotionally charged moment and, as Xanthos observed wistfulness on the faces of the old and hope on the faces of the young, for the first time in his life he understood the appeal of Christmas.
But he understood too why he had always turned his back on it.
Then, and maybe now too.
‘Let’s go upstairs,’ he said roughly, once the carols had finished, and he saw her nod, resignation darkening her eyes, as if she never wanted the evening to end.
‘Okay,’ she said.
As they said goodbye and mounted the stairs towards their room, Bianca knew she mustn’t read too much into what had just happened. He had danced with her. And just because it had felt as heavenly as anything she could ever remember doing it didn’tmeananything. It was Christmas, that was all—and Christmas was notorious for putting a dangerous spin on things. She knew she needed to cultivate a degree of impartiality before they spent their final night together, but as the door closed behind them all she could think about was how powerful and sexy he looked. The moonlight was splashing his dark hair with silver and making her want to run her fingers through those luxuriant metallic strands. She longed for the music of the accordion. She wanted to be back in his arms.
As he walked over to the window to stare out at the starry blaze of the Christmas tree in the village square, Bianca wanted to rail against the fact that he had managed to captivate her, despite all the defences she’d erected. That somehow he had made her want him, and that couldn’t be allowed to continue. So why not defuse the situation? You’ve still got a whole night to get through. At least let him remember you as someone who knows her manners.
‘I still haven’t thanked you properly,’ she said quietly.
He turned round. ‘For what?’
‘Oh, you know. For saving my life. For looking after me so well. For going back to the plane. For building a fire For...’ She hesitated. ‘Well, for behaving like such a gentleman.’
‘Don’t push it, Bianca.’ His smile was wry, his words coated with something unfamiliar. ‘Because I can assure you I’m not feeling in the least bit gentlemanly right now.’
Something in the way he was looking at her made rational thought drain from her mind, like the trickle of sand through open fingers. ‘Oh?’
‘Do you say “oh” like that because you know it makes your lips soften into the perfect pout?’ he probed silkily. ‘Meaning that I’m powerless to do anything except think about kissing you?’
‘I can’t imagine you ever being powerless, Xanthos.’
His mouth hardened. ‘You’d be surprised.’