He shrugged. ‘The banquet ends at midnight anyway, so the guests may be fully rested before the coronation.’
‘But you can’t miss the fireworks.’
A wicked smile glimmered in his eyes as he leaned too close and whispered, ‘I don’t intend to.’
Adrenalin raced, setting off a raucous, wicked temptation.
‘What about you?’ he added. ‘You’re all dressed up and it’s not even midnight and you’re running away.’
She wasn’t—she was fixed to the spot when she should be running through the castle—running from him. But she couldn’t pull herself free of his mesmerising presence.
‘You didn’t dance.’ His eyes were full of regret and his voice was so quiet she was unsure he even meant her to hear. ‘I wanted to dance with you. But I couldn’t.’
‘Couldn’t or wouldn’t?’
‘They’d eat you alive. I can’t let that happen.’
A last barrier melted inside her. ‘You’re trying to protect me?’ Was that why he’d kept at such a disappointing distance all evening? It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about her.
‘Their pursuit would be relentless.’
He was so close her mind spun and she lost control. That dangerous part of her spilled free. ‘What about your pursuit?’ she asked huskily. ‘Would that be relentless?’
His eyes widened. He stood still before her but his fingers touched hers. So lightly. So carefully. ‘Are you flirting with me? Finally?’
Only a very little. ‘You don’t need to protect me from anyone,’ she said. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow and I’m not coming back.’
His fingers interlinked with hers—the softest, most fragile of connections. Electricity surged—striking a chord deep within her.
‘Dance with me.’ There was a thread of steel in his voice now.
‘Here? We can’t even hear the music.’
‘You’re musical. Hum something.’
‘Any other orders?’ she asked with an arch of her brows.
‘So many, I’m struggling to hold them all back.’
She couldn’t suppress the shiver of sensual intrigue. ‘Is that so?’
His jaw locked. ‘Temptress.’
Was she? ‘I thought I was Cinderella. But I’m not—that’s you.’
Genuine surprise flickered on his face, then amusement. ‘Me?’
‘You’re trapped in a palace, doing all the work—cleaning up the messes your family left. You ensure everyone has everything they need...’
‘Then don’t say no. Dance with me,’ he said simply. ‘Just once.’
It felt so much more than a mere invitation to dance.
‘Because you ask so nicely?’ she teased.
‘Please.’ He stepped back and held his hand out to her.
It was such an old-fashioned formal gesture it made her smile. She put her hand in his, half expecting—hoping—he’d haul her to him, but he kept a courteous distance. His posture was ballroom-dancer perfect. She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. She could feel the rigidity of his muscles. There was no softening into an embrace. He stared into her eyes, watching, waiting.