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“Thank you, Mrs. Butler. You are looking especially lovely this evening.”
In a bondage hooker kind of way, Nic thought ungraciously, and he had to give credit to the Duke for the way he delivered the flattery with a straight face.
“But not as lovely as the Princess,” Tansy simpered, still in awe of royalty. She was gazing at Lexie’s gown with a covetous gleam. “The beadwork is fabulous.”
“It was made by a designer from Seirenada.” Nic heard the pride in her voice.
“Her Highness has been voted best-dressed several times, my dear,” Rupert Butler interjected, making his presence known.
Nic vaguely recalled complimenting Melissa once on a dress she had worn on one of their dates. Melissa had said the embroidery was inspired by the dress the Princess Alexandria had worn during her brother’s coronation. Strange that he could remember that particular detail.
“The Princess has impeccable taste,” Nic added blandly, because, well, he felt like it. Lexie stiffened imperceptibly. She wasn’t as immune as she seemed then, he thought with satisfaction. Rupert glared at him, warning him not steal the spotlight.
“Lexie will look lovely no matter what she is wearing,” Walkden added gallantly.
This time it was Nic’s turn to stiffen at Walkden’s use of her pet name. “I think red,” he emphasized, “will suit Her Highness’ coloring very well.”
“Red for a redhead?” Tansy sounded horrified at the fashion faux pas.
“I will look like a strawberry!” Lexie’s amused tone sounded forced. She was still refusing to look at him.
“No. You will look like strawberries and cream.” Nic meant to rile her up, but he couldn’t stop his voice from growing husky at the recollection of her bare skin.
She blushed. He caught the tiny furrow that appeared between Walkden’s brows, sensing some undercurrents.
“You’re lookin’ quite flushed, Your Highness. It’s quite a crush and a bit warm,” Tansy trilled.” Maybe you could take off your jacket and we can see the beadwork on the bodice?”
“No!” Lexie started. Tansy appeared taken aback by the vehemence in her protest. “I meant I am fine. Perfectly comfortable.” Rattled, her accent became more pronounced. Her eyes darted furtively to his. He deliberately kept his expression blank.
Just then, a circulating photographer stopped by to take a group shot. He directed Nic and the Duke to flank Lexie while Tansy was made to stand between Walkden and Butler.
He inhaled her familiar lavender scent while she stood ramrod-straight, looked at the camera, and held her artificial smile.
Perhaps it was a kindness after all what she did, running out on him that night and refusing to look back. Hell, if he had known who she was at the start, he would have run as fast as his legs would have carried him out of that dive bar. There was no future with women like her − spoiled, narcissistic, high-maintenance females who cared only about themselves. And because she dared to let him feel, just for one night, that there could be something between them, Nic decided to wipe off that mask of a smile with one word. He leaned down and placed his lips near her ear. “Rojita,” he whispered in mock tenderness, and she flinched. He waited for the photographers to finish and with a curt nod at the Duke, he walked away and dismissed her from his mind and his life.
* * *
The insistent ringing of the door chime penetrated the thick fog of a few hours of sleep. Bleary-eyed, Lexie pulled on her robe to get the door. It was eight o’clock in the morning and she had overslept. Not surprising since she was up ‘til three, her mind going round and round in circles. Her thoughts kept oscillating between attempting to talk to Nic and explaining her situation or just leaving things as they were. She was leaving tonight for California, and for all she knew, Nic had probably flown off already for another tournament.
She had been a glutton for punishment. Unable to sleep, she had scoured the Net for more information on Nic. She had learned that he had been born and raised in Argentina but that his mother was British and that his family had spent a lot of time in the United Kingdom when he was growing up, because his father was a favorite polo player of the Queen. His father had taught some of the royals how to play, until a riding accident had forced him to retire and devote his entire time to the family’s estancia and horse-breeding farm in Argentina.
