the dance floor, her mystery man holding her scandalously close, gazing into her eyes. A pang of jealousy soured Anne’s stomach. She wanted a man to hold her close and look at her as though she were the only one in the room, as if he couldn’t wait to get her alone so he could ravage her. Just this once she wanted to feel … wanted. Was that really too much to ask for?
She finished her champagne in one gulp and asked, “Would you care to dance, Sam?”
She wasn’t sure if his look of surprise was due to her barbaric behavior, or the actual invitation. For a dreadfully long and horrifying instant, she thought he might turn her down. Wouldn’t that be ironic considering all the dance invitations she had declined over the years? So many, in fact, that men had stopped asking altogether.
Then a grin curled his mouth, his dimples a prominent dent in each cheek, and he said, “I would be honored, Your Highness.”
He offered his arm and she slipped hers through it. Then he led her out onto the crowded dance floor. It had been so long since she’d danced that when he took her in his arms and began to waltz, what used to be second nature suddenly felt clumsy and awkward. Or maybe that was the champagne making her knees soft … or the spicy scent of his aftershave making her light-headed. He smelled so delicious, she wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in. She tried to recall the last time she’d been this close to a man she found so sexually appealing.
Maybe a little too long.
“Black suits you,” Sam said, and it took her several seconds to realize he was talking about her gown, a floor-length, sequined number she had purchased off the rack in Paris. She didn’t know if the color suited her so much as it had suited her mood when she’d picked it out. Now she wished she had worn something brighter and more cheerful. Like Louisa in her trademark pink, who, come to think of it, looked a bit like the Good Witch of the North. Which Anne supposed would make her the Wicked Witch of the West.
“Yes,” she told Sam. “All that’s missing is the pointy black hat.”
It was the sort of remark that might put a man off. Instead Sam laughed. A deep, throaty laugh that seemed to vibrate through her, causing delicious friction that warmed her insides. “Actually, I was thinking that it brings out your milky complexion.”
“Oh, well, thank you.”
A slow song began, and Anne couldn’t help noticing how Louisa’s mystery man drew her in even closer. A little too close.
“Do you know that man dancing with my sister?” she asked Sam, gesturing with her chin.
“Garrett Sutherland. He’s the richest landowner on the island. I’m surprised you don’t know him.”
The name was definitely familiar. “I know of him. I’ve heard my brothers mention him.”
“It looks as though he and your sister are quite … friendly.”
“I noticed that, too.”
He watched Anne watching her sister. “You look out for her?”
She nodded and looked up at him. “Someone has to. She can be very naive, and far too trusting.”
He grinned, his dimples so adorable she wanted to rise up and press a kiss to each one. “Then who looks after you?”
“No one needs to. I’m entirely capable of looking out for myself.”
He tightened the arm around her back, tucking her closer to his chest, and his smile went from teasing to sizzling. “Are you sure about that, Highness?”
Was he flirting with her? Men never teased and flirted with her. Not unless they wanted their head handed back to them on a platter. Samuel Baldwin was a brave man. And she realized, she liked it. She liked the weight of his hand on her back and the way it felt when her breasts skimmed the wall of his chest. She’d never been what anyone could call a sexual woman—not that she didn’t enjoy a quick, meaningless roll in the hay now and then— but being close to Sam awakened feelings in her she never knew were there. Or was it more the champagne than the man?
No. No amount of alcohol had ever given her this warm, shivery, feverish ache. This primitive longing to be taken and … possessed. To rip Sam’s clothes off and put her hands all over him. She wondered what he would do if she wrapped her arms around his neck, tugged his head down and kissed him. His lips looked so soft and sensual and she was dying to know what they would feel like, how they would taste.
She wished she possessed the courage to do it, right here, right now, in front of all these people. She wished she could be more like Louisa, who was now walking arm in arm with her dance partner, out the doors and onto the patio, seemingly oblivious to the hundred or so pairs of eyes following their every move.
Maybe it was about time Louisa learned to fend for herself. For tonight at least. From this moment forward, she was on her own.
Anne turned her attention to Sam and smiled. “I’m so pleased you could attend our benefit. Are you having a good time?”
“I am. I was sorry to hear that the king wasn’t well enough to attend.”
“He has to have a procedure done and adjustments made to his heart pump so he must stay in tip-top shape. Being in a large crowd could expose him to infection. His system is very vulnerable.”
Her siblings all seemed to think he was going to be fine, and the heart pump he had been attached to for the past nine months was going to give his damaged heart the time it needed to heal, but Anne had a bad feeling it was a waste of time. Lately he’d begun to look so pale and he had so little energy. She worried that he was losing his will to live.
Though the rest of the family was hopeful, deep down Anne knew he was going to die and her instincts were telling her that it would be soon.
A sudden feeling of intense grief welled up inside her, and hard as she tried to push it back down, tears sprang to the corners of her eyes and a sob began to build in her throat. She never got upset, at least not when other people were around to see it, but the champagne must have compromised her emotions because she was on the verge of a meltdown and she couldn’t do a single thing to stop it.
Not here, she begged. Please not in front of all these people.
“Anne, are you okay?” Sam was gazing down at her, his eyes so full of concern and compassion, it was almost too much.
She bit down hard on her lip and shook her head, and he seemed to know exactly what to do.
He swiftly whisked her off the dance floor, while she struggled to maintain her composure. “Where to?” he whispered, as they exited the ballroom, into a foyer full of people socializing and sipping drinks. She needed to be somewhere private, where no one would see the inevitable breakdown. A place where, when she finally pulled herself together, she could fix her makeup and return to the party as though nothing were out of the ordinary.
“My room,” she managed.
“Upstairs?” he asked, and she nodded. She was biting her lip so hard now she tasted blood.
The staircase was roped off and two security officers stood guard, but as they approached one unhooked the rope to let them pass.
“Her
