“Watch me,” I say, using a remote to set the music back to the beginning of the practice track, then striking the first pose. “It should be alluring. Sensual, even.” This is truly where Giovanni’s lessons shine through—steps that require an awareness of one’s entire body, from fingertips to toes. I’m so caught up in the steps, I don’t notice the ladies around me growing silent until I see Molli’s wide eyes staring not at me but just over my shoulder.
Somehow sensing what I’m about to find, I pull my limbs into a stiff, upright position—shoulders back, neck straight—and turn my head to see His Majesty watching me. His eyes are dark and intense, and before he can shutter them, I see that same look he gave Sierra Jamison in that shadowed hallway.
Animal wanting.
I’m used to His Highness’ lascivious looks—actions, even. But this is something more. A legitimate spark of desire beyond his simple propensity for agitation. It’s something real. A dark foreboding tells me that this is the first moment His Highness has realized I could be not only his unwanted affianced, but a compelling plaything.
He steps forward slowly, and an entirely different breed of terror squeezes my spine and dries my tongue. Not for my physical self—for something deeper.
“That was lovely,” he says.
I force myself to smile even as I struggle to make my legs hold me. His Highness places a finger under my chin, and though every cell of my body cries out against it, he bends his head and places a kiss on my lips. Not a hard, savage thing—but one that could almost pass as a caress from a gentleman truly in love.
Which is even more frightening, more invasive. The moment his mouth leaves mine, I duck my chin and slant my head to the side, hoping the flush on my cheeks looks like pleasure rather than rage.
I don’t know why I raise my eyelids; perhaps it’s that hint of premonition when one is being watched. Regardless, I meet Lady Cyn’s eyes and wish I’d stayed in my chambers today.
She’s frozen in the very act of stepping forward, her body balanced awkwardly. She must have seen exactly what I saw—that whatever the King was feeling today, there was no pretense, no act. The King wants me. Wants me desperately. I think Lady Cyn understands, now, that she’s lost.
But she also saw my eyes. She knows I’m utterly false. She’s lost her hopes, her dreams, her ambitions; all to a pretender who’s just as bad as she is.
A light smattering of applause accompanies His Highness’ little act of amour, and the sound breaks the connection between me and Lady Cyn. His Highness preens at the attention, and with one last murderous look, Lady Cyn spins on her heel and clicks away.
The King never sees her.
“ISN’T HE DELICIOUS,” Lord Aaron says, leaning in close to my ear at the assembly that night.
“He’s not for you,” I say, arching an eyebrow.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t observe,” Lord Aaron retorts, glancing over his shoulder to where Saber is treading two steps behind my ruffled train. I hadn’t intended to bring Saber out so soon, but His Highness himself sent me a com asking how my new toy was coming along. Considering the events of this afternoon, I had little choice but to bring him out of spite. “Much to my eternal disappointment, I’m not actually in a committed relationship and therefore have no reason to feel guilty for a roving eye.”
“He’s a servant,” I press, appealing to Lord Aaron’s streak of snobbery instead.
“All the better. Not going to expect me to marry him, is he?”
“You’re all talk,” I say, whapping his shoulder lightly with my fan. “You wouldn’t step out on Sir Spencer for anything in the world and you know it.”
“Yes, I do,” Lord Aaron says, smiling at the crowd with sadness in his eyes. “Unfortunately, you know it too; what fun is that? Speaking of,” he adds, taking my gloved hand and placing it on his arm while simultaneously tucking a rather considerable wad of folded bills into my palm, “Spence would like a bit more of the colorless.”
“Spence?” I question, palming the money.
“He likes to put it around his eyes. They have that gray touch to them, and the glimmering bits really heighten it.”
“Spence?” I repeat, tilting my head in his direction to invite a confidence I’m hoping he’ll share.
“Damnation, Your Grace, can’t a man speak intimately of his friends?” But he looks nervous, and Lord Aaron is never nervous.
“You haven’t before. Nor have you ever fetched his order from me.”
He looks so stiff and straight as he strides along wordlessly that I let nigh a minute pass in silence.
“There’s been a development?” I ask, squeezing his arm as I make a guess.
“I can’t say,” Lord Aaron says stiffly.
“Aaron—”
“Danica, I can’t say.” He turns to face me. “You know how this works. You, of all people.”
He’s right, of course. “Then I’ll be happy for you, inferentially.”
Finally a smile lifts one corner of Lord Aaron’s mouth. “You’ve always been quite good at inferring, Your Grace.”