Never Gamble With a Caffarelli (Those Scandalous Caffarellis 3)

She heard him smother a groan as her tongue tangled with his.

She felt his body stir against her as he gripped her by the hips and pulled her flush against him.

She heard the cleric clear his throat. ‘Ahem...’

Remy dropped his hands. He looked slightly stunned for a moment, but then he seemed to give himself a mental shake before he grinned charmingly and rather cheekily at the cleric. ‘Almost forgot where I was for a moment.’

The cleric gave him an understanding smile. ‘It is very good to see an enthusiastic couple. It bodes well for a happy and fulfilling marriage.’

Angelique ground her teeth. Remy was enjoying this much more than he should. She could see the glint in his eyes as they reconnected with hers. She gave him an ‘I’ll get you for this later’ look but he just grinned even wider and gave her a wink.

‘The Crown Prince and his wife have a put on a special banquet in honour of your marriage,’ the cleric said.

Oh no! Don’t tell me there’s going to be a reception with speeches.

But as it turned out it was more like a party. A dry party. Which was a crying shame, as right now Angelique needed a glass of something alcoholic—make that two glasses and to hell with the calories—because she was now officially a married woman.

Arrrggh!

The reception room was as big as a football field, or so it appeared to Angelique. How many friends did Remy have out here, or had someone rented a crowd? There were at least a thousand people. Who had a wedding that big? It was ridiculous! It was like a wedding extravaganza, a showpiece of what a celebrity wedding reception should be. The room was decked out in the most amazing array of satin ribbons, balloons and sparkly lights that hung from the high ceiling like diamonds. They probably were diamonds, she thought as she glanced up at the chandelier above her head. Yep, diamonds.

They were led to the top table where Angelique was finally introduced to the Crown Prince’s wife, Abby, a fellow Englishwoman who had met and fallen in love with Talib earlier that year. A royal baby was due in a few months, which Abby explained had given an extra boost to the celebrations. It seemed Dharbiri was in party mode and an event like this could on for days. Great.

Remy took her hand and led her out to the dance floor for the bridal waltz. ‘Loosen up, Angelique. You feel like a shop-window mannequin in my arms.’

Angelique suppressed a glare. ‘Get your hands off my butt.’

He smoothed his hand over her hip and then tugged her against him. ‘That better?’

She looked at him with slitted eyes. ‘We’re supposed to be dancing, not making out.’

‘I thought you’d be great at dancing.’

‘I am great at dancing.’

‘Then show me your footwork.’

Angelique moved in against him and let him take the lead. The music was romantic with a flowing rhythm so she let her body move in time with it. She started to feel like a princess at a ball, or a star contestant on one of those reality dance shows. They moved in perfect unison around the dance floor. The other couples—and there were hundreds—swarmed backwards to give them more room.

‘Nice work,’ Remy said once it was over. ‘Maybe we should do that again some time.’

‘You trod on my toe.’

‘Did not.’

‘Did so.’

He gave her a grin as he pinched her cheek. ‘Smile, ma chérie.’

She smiled through clenched teeth. ‘I want to scratch your eyes out.’

‘Did I tell you how beautiful you looked?’

‘I can’t breathe in this dress. And I have no idea how I’m going to fit in the bathroom. They’ll have to take the door off or something.’

He grinned again and tapped her gently on the end of the nose. ‘You’ll find a way.’

Angelique let out a breath as she watched him turn to speak to another guest. There were times when Remy took his charm into very dangerous territory...