looked up, dazed to see him looking down—imperious, in command, his gaze compelling.
All she could do was nod.
“Then dance with me.” And he pulled her to her feet and straight into his arms.
It was magic.
He swirled her off her stocking-clad feet and led her into the waltz. She should have stumbled. She always stumbled when she danced.
Even when she’d danced with Ben at their wedding she’d felt self-conscious, always aware that Mrs. Achenbach, her cotillion instructor, had lamented that her clumsy pupil had two left feet. The words had taken up residence in her brain from the time Edie was ten years old. She absolutely believed them.
But tonight she had one of each—stocking-clad though they were—and miraculously they did exactly what they were supposed to do: followed his.
Of course they did.
Because that was the sort of man he was. Nick Savas said, “Dance,” and they didn’t dare do anything else. Edie peeked down at her toes, amazed.
“Something wrong?”
Everything. Nothing. Edie shook her head, still dazed. It was like having an out-of-body experience. Or maybe like having an “in-someone-else’s-body” experience. Like Cinderella’s.
Certainly not her own.
She wasn’t even supposed to be here. Didn’t want to be here. Had no business being here—except for Rhiannon. And Rhiannon had already gone.
Instinctively Edie glanced around, looking for a clock. How close to midnight was it?
No way to tell. And Nick wasn’t giving her a chance to look. They swirled and dipped and glided. Her liberated toes tingled and she would have wriggled them if she’d been able to do that and dance at the same time. It was the least likely thing she could imagine doing. She half expected someone to tap her on her shoulder and point out her lack of shoes, Or, worse, make a general public announcement.
But of course no one was looking at her. Especially not at her feet.
He had danced her all the way across the ballroom by this time. It was lovely, exhilarating. And yet she could only wonder how in heaven’s name she was going to get Rhiannon’s shoes back. She glanced around and couldn’t even pick out where they’d left them.
“Now what?” Nick said gruffly.
“My shoes—”
“Not yours,” Nick said with certainty.
“Well, no,” Edie admitted. “Rhiannon’s. But I can’t just leave them there.”
“We’ll get them later.” He dismissed the whole problem, but then he wasn’t dancing at the royal wedding in his socks. “Smile,” he commanded her. “I like it when you smile.” And he smiled again, too, as if forming a smile of his own could prompt her.
It seemed that it could. Edie’s lips curved. Apparently her mouth was as malleable as her feet.
Nick nodded. “Yes. Like that.”
No wonder her sister had been pawing his dinner jacket.
Edie faltered at the thought. But the second her feet began to stumble, Nick caught her, drew her up again, pulled her close. Now her breasts pressed against his jacket. And as she was not overly well-endowed that meant all the rest of her was very close to him, too. Through the silk of her dress Edie could feel his legs brush against hers. If she turned her head, she could count individual whiskers on his jawline. And whenever she drew a breath, she smelled soap and a hint of woodsy aftershave.
Her knees wobbled. Nick held her closer still.
“I’m not a very good dancer,” she apologized, trying to straighten and pull back.
But Nick didn’t let go. “I’m enjoying it. Best part of the evening so far.” His voice was a purr in her ear. The vibration sent a tingle all the way down her spine. And her brain leaped ahead, going exactly where she didn’t want it to go.
So far?
How far was he expecting it to go?
“Now what?” he murmured as he must have felt her stiffen in his arms.
Edie gave a little shake of her head. “Nothing. I … I’m fine. I just thought of something.”
“You need to stop thinking.” She could hear the smile in his voice and as he turned his head, she thought she felt his lips against her hair. The shiver was back, sliding down her spine.
What on earth was wrong with her?
She hadn’t felt like this in years. Hadn’t felt the least flicker of interest in a man since Ben.
Her mother’s insistence that she “get back on the horse” had fallen on deaf ears because she didn’t feel any need to. And she refused to force things. But this wasn’t forced. It was entirely in-voluntary—and very very compelling as Nick steered her closer to the orchestra. The music enveloped her, wrapping her in a ridiculous Cinderella fantasy.
Danger! her sensible self whispered.
But her dancing self, her wiggling-toes self, countered just as quickly: as long as she knew it was a fantasy, where was the harm?
It wasn’t as if she believed in fairy-tale endings.
She’d learned at eighteen when heartthrob actor, Kyle Robbins, had broken her heart that fairy tales were fantasies, that real life romances didn’t end in happily ever after. And if she’d dared to think that her marriage to Ben disproved that, well, she had only to remember the devastation of losing him.
So, she knew you couldn’t count on happily ever after. She was immune.
So go ahead, she told herself. Take it for what it is—a few minutes of enjoyment. It won’t last, but who cares? It’s one dance, one night. Nothing more.
For the first time tonight her brain and her feet were in agreement. She smiled up at Nick Savas, wiggled her toes and gave herself over to the dance.
Nick Savas didn’t do weddings.
Hadn’t in years.
He hadn’t wanted to come to this one, either. But when you were the cousin of the groom, on the one hand, and were currently restoring a wing of the bride’s family’s castle, on the other, you knew you didn’t have a choice.
There was no way he could have continued working right through the royal wedding day—even though he would have preferred it. He didn’t want to watch another happy couple make vows to each other for the rest of their lives. He didn’t want to see the way they looked at each other with hope in their eyes and dreams in their hearts. Maybe it was selfish—all right, it damned well was selfish—but he didn’t want to witness other people getting what he’d been denied.
Ever since
