Amber stiffened. ‘Maybe I do,’ she admitted.
Luciano’s eyes narrowed as he swung her round with a flourish, to the final few bars of the music. ‘You are not aware of his reputation, I think?’
‘With women?’
‘With women, yes. And with business,’ he commented drily. ‘He is known for a detachment and a ruthlessness he has demonstrated tonight by placing a spy in my camp.’
Amber felt her cheeks grow pink. Hadn’t she accused him of the very same thing? ‘I’m sure that wasn’t his intention at all,’ she said doggedly.
The Prince smiled. ‘Ah! Your loyalty to the man is touching—but do not look so alarmed, Amber. Conall and I know one another of old and I have great admiration for someone as ruthless as I am—but I would heed any sensible woman to exercise caution with such a man.’
Amber’s cheeks were still burning as the Prince dropped his hands from her waist as Conall returned to escort him to his waiting car.
There was a loud buzz of chatter as the royal party left the room and Amber moved away from the dance floor and went to stand by the cool shelter of a marble pillar. With both men gone she felt like Cinderella—as if she no longer had any right to be here. As if any minute now her beautiful cream dress would turn into rags. She looked around. Maybe she should take the opportunity to slip out of the ballroom and go back to her room before Conall came back. Nobody would miss her. He might even be glad that she was out of his hair and he could party on without compunction.
But suddenly the decision was taken out of her hands because Conall had returned and was standing in the entrance to the ballroom, his dark suit hugging his muscular frame. He had undone a couple of buttons of his white silk shirt and Amber could see the faint smattering of dark hair there.
His eyes searched the room until he’d found her and as he began to walk towards her, her heart began to pound painfully in her chest. Would he be angry with her? She might have rather clumsily allowed the Prince to realise she was a linguist but he hadn’t seemed to mind and she had done her best. Surely even Conall could understand that.
He was standing in front of her now, his midnight eyes shuttered. He didn’t say a single word, just took her hand and led her onto the dance floor and Amber could feel her pulse rocketing skywards as he pulled her into his arms.
‘Wh-what are you doing?’ she questioned shakily, because she hadn’t felt remotely like this when she’d been dancing with Luciano.
‘Taking over where the Prince left off.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Unless you have decided that dancing with mere mortals has no appeal compared to the heady delights of having a blue-blooded partner?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said. ‘I’m quite happy to dance with you as long as you promise not to tread on my foot.’
His hands tightened around her waist. ‘And that’s your only stipulation, is it, Amber?’
Her eyes were fixed on the sprinkling of chest hair which was now exactly at eye level. ‘I could think of plenty more.’
‘Such as?’
‘I wonder why you want to dance with me when you seem to have been glaring at me all evening.’
‘Is that what I’ve been doing?’
‘You know you have. Is it...’ She hesitated. ‘Is it because the Prince guessed that I spoke Italian?’
He laughed. ‘He said you frowned when he used the word assassination. I guess most people would. And no, it’s not because of that.’
‘What, then?’
His hands tightened around her waist. ‘Maybe because I have conflicting feelings about you.’
She lifted her face up and met the hard gleam of his eyes. He had feelings for her? She could do absolutely nothing about the sudden race of her heart—only pray he couldn’t detect its erratic thumping. ‘What do you mean?’
Idly, he began to rub his thumb up and down over her ribcage. ‘Just that you arouse me. Deeply and constantly. And I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.’
If anyone else had come out and said that Amber would have been shocked or scared, but somehow when Conall said it she was neither. ‘And I’m supposed to be flattered by such a statement?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said simply. ‘My biggest concern is what I’m going to do about it.’
She could feel danger whispering in the air around them, but far more potent was the sense of excitement which made the danger easy to ignore. ‘And the options are?’
‘Don’t be disingenuous, Amber, because it doesn’t suit you.’ Almost experimentally, he rolled his thumb over one of her ribs, slowly rubbing along the chiffon-covered bone. ‘You know very well what the options are. I can take you upstairs so that we can finish off what we started earlier and maybe rid myself of this damned fever which has been raging in my blood since the moment I first saw you draped all over that white leather sofa.’
Somehow Amber stopped herself from reacting. Since then? ‘Or?’