eyes—the open wound of rejection? A devastated heart? A truth he didn’t want to face?
His brows dipped into a pained frown. His mouth moved into a vexed grimace. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Sorry...
It was unbearable.
A fierce surge of pride gave her the strength to turn and walk away, blindly at first, the need to flout his belittling apology driving her legs to put a decisive distance between them. The entrance to the castle was straight ahead of her and her focus gradually zeroed in on it.
Marco slid into her frayed mind.
Marco was real.
Her little son loved her unconditionally.
There was a big difference— huge —between love and sexual lust.
Best to be with Marco.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Michelle felt a rush of elation as Peter Owen tapped the shoulder of her dance partner. “My turn, dear boy,” he drawled, one eyebrow wickedly cocked. “I claim old friendship.”
She couldn’t help laughing. More intimate friendship than old. “It’s okay, Chris,” she assured the guy she’d snapped up. “Thanks for dancing with me.”
He grinned back at her. “A pleasure. Any time.”
Which was what Alex should be telling her instead of choosing to smooch around the dance floor with his singer. Still, darling Peter could make up for that slight. She gave him a simmering look of seductive possibilities as he moved in on her, his long, supple body instantly capturing and projecting the beat of the music. He was definitely the sexiest dancer she’d ever known—both in bed and out of it.
“Deserted by your precious fiance, sweetie?” he mocked.
“Not quite a duet with your duet singer?” she retorted.
“A promising prospect. But I suspect...more the marrying kind. Want to watch that, darling. Seemed to me Alex was quite hot for her.”
“I’m holding the cards, Peter.”
He sighed, his eyes running over her salaciously. “Pity it’s the wrong hand. You know I appreciate you more than he does. Do you fancy a quickie in the bushes?”
She laughed. “Too much of a risk.”
His eyes twinkled a tempting challenge. “Ah, but the delicious spice of danger...”
“Not worth it, Peter,” she said, though her eyes flirted with the promised pleasure of it.
He performed a provocative bump and grind to push the idea further. “He’s taken the delectable Gina outside with him. Tit for tat?”
“I doubt they’ve gone as far as the bushes.”
He shoulder-shimmied around her, suggestively murmuring, “Probably headed for a bedroom.”
“Alex is far too straitlaced for that.”
“How boring for you! Nevertheless, he probably is heading for a bedroom. Gina wanted to check on her son, Marco. Apparently Isabella invited them to stay at the castle overnight.”
“Old witch!” Anger surged. “She’s trying to make trouble between me and Alex.”
Peter exulted in stirring the pot. “No doubt he’ll be leaning over the little boy’s cot, all choked up by the sweet innocence of a sleeping babe, thinking about how it’ll be with his first child...”
“Shut up, Peter!”
He grinned—the devil incarnate. “While we trip the light fantastic, darling.”
Grabbing her hand, he led her into an intricate sequence of steps that took them right down the dance floor. He was so light and clever on his feet, it was exhilarating matching him, and Michelle couldn’t help thinking how much she missed having this kind of fun. Of course, with Peter, nothing could be taken seriously, but that was his charm. Sheer fun with nothing else attached to it. Free fun.
They stopped at the stage end of the ballroom. Still holding her hand, Peter drew her towards a side exit, whispering in her ear, “Let’s snatch a bit of memory lane before the King family noose is around your lovely neck.”
It wasn’t wise to go with him.
But she did.
Alex knew he should return to the ballroom, if only for the sake of appearances. Michelle would have her nose out of joint at his prolonged absence. He didn’t want any sly
His brows dipped into a pained frown. His mouth moved into a vexed grimace. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Sorry...
It was unbearable.
A fierce surge of pride gave her the strength to turn and walk away, blindly at first, the need to flout his belittling apology driving her legs to put a decisive distance between them. The entrance to the castle was straight ahead of her and her focus gradually zeroed in on it.
Marco slid into her frayed mind.
Marco was real.
Her little son loved her unconditionally.
There was a big difference— huge —between love and sexual lust.
Best to be with Marco.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Michelle felt a rush of elation as Peter Owen tapped the shoulder of her dance partner. “My turn, dear boy,” he drawled, one eyebrow wickedly cocked. “I claim old friendship.”
She couldn’t help laughing. More intimate friendship than old. “It’s okay, Chris,” she assured the guy she’d snapped up. “Thanks for dancing with me.”
He grinned back at her. “A pleasure. Any time.”
Which was what Alex should be telling her instead of choosing to smooch around the dance floor with his singer. Still, darling Peter could make up for that slight. She gave him a simmering look of seductive possibilities as he moved in on her, his long, supple body instantly capturing and projecting the beat of the music. He was definitely the sexiest dancer she’d ever known—both in bed and out of it.
“Deserted by your precious fiance, sweetie?” he mocked.
“Not quite a duet with your duet singer?” she retorted.
“A promising prospect. But I suspect...more the marrying kind. Want to watch that, darling. Seemed to me Alex was quite hot for her.”
“I’m holding the cards, Peter.”
He sighed, his eyes running over her salaciously. “Pity it’s the wrong hand. You know I appreciate you more than he does. Do you fancy a quickie in the bushes?”
She laughed. “Too much of a risk.”
His eyes twinkled a tempting challenge. “Ah, but the delicious spice of danger...”
“Not worth it, Peter,” she said, though her eyes flirted with the promised pleasure of it.
He performed a provocative bump and grind to push the idea further. “He’s taken the delectable Gina outside with him. Tit for tat?”
“I doubt they’ve gone as far as the bushes.”
He shoulder-shimmied around her, suggestively murmuring, “Probably headed for a bedroom.”
“Alex is far too straitlaced for that.”
“How boring for you! Nevertheless, he probably is heading for a bedroom. Gina wanted to check on her son, Marco. Apparently Isabella invited them to stay at the castle overnight.”
“Old witch!” Anger surged. “She’s trying to make trouble between me and Alex.”
Peter exulted in stirring the pot. “No doubt he’ll be leaning over the little boy’s cot, all choked up by the sweet innocence of a sleeping babe, thinking about how it’ll be with his first child...”
“Shut up, Peter!”
He grinned—the devil incarnate. “While we trip the light fantastic, darling.”
Grabbing her hand, he led her into an intricate sequence of steps that took them right down the dance floor. He was so light and clever on his feet, it was exhilarating matching him, and Michelle couldn’t help thinking how much she missed having this kind of fun. Of course, with Peter, nothing could be taken seriously, but that was his charm. Sheer fun with nothing else attached to it. Free fun.
They stopped at the stage end of the ballroom. Still holding her hand, Peter drew her towards a side exit, whispering in her ear, “Let’s snatch a bit of memory lane before the King family noose is around your lovely neck.”
It wasn’t wise to go with him.
But she did.
Alex knew he should return to the ballroom, if only for the sake of appearances. Michelle would have her nose out of joint at his prolonged absence. He didn’t want any sly
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