hesitated, then decided she’d better do what she could to warn him what he was in for. “Etienne, please…”
He stopped and looked down at her, apparent curiosity puckering his high, intelligent brow.
Oh. She’d made herself out to be foolish enough tonight, she hated the notion of divulging further faults. Finally, sheer desperation had her softly admitting, “I’m afraid I’m about to embarrass you.”
Again, he chuckled and Ariane was bombarded with the sudden outrageous urge to place her palm against his chest to feel what she instinctively knew would be the sexy tremor of his laughter. Her eyes widened at the astonishing thought.
“You could never embarrass me,” Etienne told her. “In fact, I’m sure I am already the envy of every man in the kingdom.”
She knew he meant to flatter her with the compliment, but she was too anxiety-ridden to even smile at him. “You don’t understand…”
Before she had time to explain, he whirled her around to face him, deftly snuggling one palm at the base of her spine, enveloping her hand in his free one.
The closeness of him, the heat of him, made her feel as if she were suddenly thrust into a vacuum from which she couldn’t draw breath. Yet as soon as they began to move, she automatically craned her neck in an attempt to watch where she was going. She panicked at the thought of bumping into another couple, of stepping on his feet, of slipping on the smooth, polished marble. She imagined what a sight the two of them would make if they were to go tumbling to the floor. Her apprehension hitched up another notch.
Funny thing about the waltz, the leader was the one who moved forward. As long as she was stepping away from Etienne, she didn’t think she’d mash his toes with hers. She could place her foot first and he was responsible for not trampling on her. However, the dance also involved a great deal of turning, and the very first time the prince guided her toward him every muscle in her body tensed up—and she planted her foot directly on top of his.
His handsome face registered more surprise than pain. Ariane chucked him a quick look of apology before dipping her chin to once more stare at her feet.
Etienne had been graced with the princess’s regretful expression for only a moment, but the vulnerability he’d read in her eyes, on her furrowed brow, affected him in the most amazing manner. He felt this immense urge to soothe her turmoil, to protect her from the eyes and opinions that she feared, to sweep her away from the crowd…to ravage that perfect pink mouth of hers with fierce kisses.
Without another thought, he waltzed her right out the huge double doors and onto the flagstone veranda that overlooked the formal gardens. The music spilled out into the night right along with them, but they stopped dancing and walked in silence to the stone half wall that edged the area.
Moonlight washed across the trees and shrubs, dusting them in a soft, pallid radiance. The unusually warm spring had caused the flower bulbs to burst from the ground and send forth their heady scents. It seemed as though a million stars glittered against the velvety night sky.
“Thank you.”
The gratitude in her sweet voice tugged at his heartstrings.
He couldn’t keep the smile from curling the corners of his mouth. “How was it you missed Dancing 101?”
Etienne knew dance instruction was common practice for all children of royal lineage, so he was certain she’d understand his question.
Her sigh was as soft as the night air. “Oh, I took the class,” she admitted despondently. “And I flunked it. Twice.” She gazed up into his face. “I thought the second time round I just might get a passing mark…but then I fell right on my behind during the last session of learning the foxtrot. After that, the instructor—a mean and unforgiving little man, I might add—refused to have me in his classroom.”
His grin widened, but Etienne turned his head away until he succeeded in snuffing out the chuckle that rose up in his throat. It was obvious that she felt bad enough about her plight without him laughing at her.
Keeping his expression just as straight as he could, he said, “When is the last time you saw anyone dance the foxtrot?”
“That’s the same thing I said to—”
She paused, seeming to realize the humor he found in her story.
“Okay,” she told him. “Go ahead and laugh. It is pretty funny.”
“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t dream of laughing at your expense.”
Her nose wrinkled, and Etienne thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
“It’s just that I have no rhythm,” she complained.
He felt compelled to say, “That’s not it at all.”
Her perfectly arched brows lifted a fraction in silent question.
“It’s the fear you have to conquer,” he told her.
“Fear? Why, as far as I know, I’m not afraid of much of anything.”
Before full insult could set in, he rushed to further explain, “It’s clear to me that you don’t trust your partner. You’re afraid you’re going to be led into disaster. The moment you realize that your partner is competent in his role, then your concerns will dissolve like sugar in water. Here, let me show you.”
She balked, but he took her into his arms. Immediately, her spine arched and she stood tall, just as she’d been taught.
He settled his hand low on the curve of her spine, murmuring, “You have great form.”
Great form, he wanted to repeat. He felt heated tendrils sprout and curl in the deepest depths of his gut.
When they were in position, her gaze unconsciously dipped downward.
“Oh, no,” he softly chided. Tucking his bent knuckle gently under her chin, he tipped up her jaw. “Look me in the eyes. Relax. Don’t even think about the steps. Don’t give your feet—or mine—another thought. Just listen to the music. Let it roll through you. And trust me.”
Iridescent moon rays cast half of her features in shadow. Her prominent features were highlighted by the pearly glow: cheekbone, brow, chin, nose. And what a perfect nose it was. Etienne had to force himself not to plant a quick kiss on its tip.
He gazed down into her beautiful face, their gazes locking…and something extraordinary happened.
“Trust me,” he repeated in a whisper, pushing off into the first step of the dance.
The next few minutes seemed laced with magic. A mysterious je ne sais quoi that he’d never before experienced in his life. He couldn’t tell if it was the silky night air, or the soft strain of the orchestra…or the gorgeous young woman who stared up into his face.
Her dark eyes never left his. Not for a second. And the atmosphere seemed to heat up with each step they took, each dip and sway and turn they made. They may have been under the open sky, but Etienne had the strange sense that time itself was drawing around them like a warm and protective blanket.
The
