Raffa sounded as if he meant every word. It made her doubly determined to land the job and repay every penny.
CHAPTER NINE
CASEY thought she had prepared well enough for her entry into the ballroom, but she was wrong. It was full of the most sophisticated people she had ever seen, all dancing to the strains of a full orchestra, and everyone without exception was in evening dress. Some of the men wore orders over one shoulder, and medals, while the women were in a rainbow-hued selection of couture gowns.
Taking a really deep breath, she tried hanging on to the moment the personal shopper had exclaimed with genuine relief after a whole raft of failures, ‘This is the one!’
She hoped Raffa would approve of the gown. She had tried to strike a balance between modest and fashionable. Anything else in her favour was down to the team of women who had worked on her all day today, endlessly primping and plucking and polishing and buffing. This was their moment, Casey thought, preparing to walk down the steep flight of stairs.
Like every other man with blood running through their veins, he stopped midway through a conversation to stare at Casey, who was standing framed beneath an archway of flowers at the top of the stairs.
She had taken his advice and spoiled herself for once …
Taken his advice? She had gone so far beyond his advice he was transfixed. The diamonds must have come from Harry Winston, and the gown she was wearing—flesh-coloured and form-fitting—defied description. Except to say that it was fabulous.
And so was she.
The gown, in floating silk chiffon, criss-crossed Casey’s breasts before falling in an elegant column to the floor, making her look like a Greek goddess. It exposed her peach-tinted shoulders, but in deference to the traditionalists amongst them she had covered herself with a wisp of beaded silk. Her hair was dressed up, in a way that suited her, with a few tendrils loose around her face, and she hardly needed the fresh flower in the soft blonde chignon to ornament the outfit when she was already the most fragrant woman in the room.
A woman, he noticed now, who had chosen to wear the most ridiculously high-heeled sandals he’d ever seen—which meant he had to get up there before there was an accident. Making his excuses to the ambassador, he headed straight for the loveliest woman in the room.
The most promising candidate, he corrected himself sternly as he strode quickly up the stairs.
The sight of Raffa sweeping up the stairs in regal robes held her spellbound. She should have known the ruler of A’Qaban would be wearing robes of state for such an important event. She should have known that if Raffa had looked good in Savile Row, and even better in jeans, he would look totally fabulous in flowing Arabian robes of night-blue silk.
‘May I escort you?’ he said, offering his arm. ‘Take it,’ he insisted firmly, ‘before you land in a heap at the feet of the people you’re expecting to cajole and charm tonight.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty …’ Aware that the eyes of the room were upon them, she dropped a low curtsey, and as she did so she registered a huge erotic charge. Playing dress-up with a king was far more exciting than any fantasy she’d ever managed to come up with.
* * *
He was pleased to see how greatly Casey had grown in confidence, but a little less pleased to realise they were both intensely aware of each other, even in a room full of people. He knew she could feel his interest, and he liked the fact that Casey’s gaze was no longer uncertain, but direct, intelligent, and challenging enough to hold his interest. Added to which, she walked like a queen at his side, and he found her company a source of constant stimulation as he introduced her round. But none of that was good for business—or for his vaunted self-control.
The rustle of Raffa’s heavy blue silk robes made her think of the hard-muscled form underneath. As he moved around the ballroom introducing her to people it was a struggle not to be distracted—something every other woman present was having trouble with too, Casey noticed. Who could blame them when Raffa’s charm was edged with hard and rugged splendour? His robes were trimmed with gold, like the agal on his headdress, and there was a dangerous-looking dagger at his waist. And a tassel at his neck …
She leaned a little closer, inhaling as she realised the tassel was scented.
‘Do you like the aroma of vanilla and sandalwood?’ he murmured.
She blushed and pulled away, realising she had invaded the ruler of A’Qaban’s personal space to an unforgivable degree. ‘I like it very much …’ Was it possible not to like the scent of warm, clean, sexy man?
‘You’re right in thinking the tassel is scented,’ he explained. ‘It’s part of my traditional dress, like the khanjar at my waist—my dagger,’ he prompted.
‘Your dagger?’ Casey repeated, feeling this was edging dangerously close to verbal foreplay.
‘You may have noticed that the royal khanjar has a pommel that is smaller than the rest.’
Was he teasing her?
‘Oh …’ Must she sound quite so disappointed?
‘But it is heavily weighted and sharpened on both edges,’ he went on, his lips tugging in the suspicion of a smile. ‘It is infinitely more effective than other, inferior khanjars …’
‘Ah …’
Or so relieved?
She thought for a moment. ‘But if it’s a royal khanjar, shouldn’t it be larger than the rest?’
‘Maybe I have another one I don’t show everyone …’
Ah, again.
‘I see,’ she managed hoarsely.
‘Why, Ms Michaels, I think you’re flirting with me.’
‘No, I’m not—’ Casey’s eyes cleared instantly, but before she had a chance to defend herself properly a guest appeared at Raffa’s elbow.
‘Ambassador, I’d like you to meet Ms Michaels, who has organised the auction for me this evening and is threatening to break all records …’
As he spoke Raffa gave Casey a look that made her tingle all over.
‘Allow me to wish you every success, Ms Michaels,’ the ambassador said, bowing low over Casey’s hand.
The surprise at having her hand kissed didn’t come close to Casey’s surprise at the expression in Raffa’s eyes. He was pleased at the honour paid to her by the ambassador, and yet he was uncomfortable with the other man touching her.
Raffa wanted her, Casey realised with a jolt, and was doing nothing to hide it. His fiercely appreciative look was daunting, and yet it made her feel empowered. Without her realising it he had given her confidence—something she had never thought to have.
It was good to be wanted. And to be wanted by a man she was already a little in love with was the most wonderful feeling on earth. She felt strong as a woman for the first time in her life.
But …
