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‘I think you have tantalised me with it for long enough, don’t you?’
Conall looked at her. ‘Amber?’
She nodded, aware of two bodyguards who had suddenly appeared at the entrance to the ballroom and who now walked behind them towards the gallery. She thought what a disparate group they made as they made their way through the empty corridors.
The guard at the door stepped aside and Amber watched Luciano’s reaction as he stepped forward to stand directly in front of the canvas. She thought that someone trying to negotiate a better price might have feigned a little indifference towards the painting, but the admiration on his face was impossible to conceal.
‘What do you think?’ asked Conall.
‘It is breathtaking,’ the Prince said slowly as he leaned forward to study it more closely. He murmured something in Italian to one of his aides and several minutes passed in silence before eventually he turned to Conall. ‘We will discuss prices when you are back in London, not tonight. Business should never be distracted by pleasure.’
Conall inclined his head. ‘I shall look forward to it.’
‘Perhaps you could check that my car is ready? And in the meantime, I really think I must dance with your assistant who has looked after me so well all evening.’ The Prince smiled. ‘Unless she has any objections?’
The Prince’s bright blue eyes were turned in her direction and Amber felt a stab of satisfaction. The Prince of Mardovia had told everyone that she’d done a good job—even though she’d done nothing more onerous than act as his gatekeeper—and now he wanted to dance with her. It was a long time since she could remember feeling this good about herself.
‘I’d love to,’ she said simply.
‘Eccellente.’
She was aware of Conall’s fleeting frown before he went to chase up the Prince’s transport and aware of the envious glances of the other women in the ballroom as the Prince pulled her into his arms and the string quartet began to play a soft and easy waltz. Amber had been to some flashy parties in her time, but even she knew it wasn’t every night of the week that you got to dance with a prince and Luciano ticked all the right boxes. He was supremely handsome and extremely attentive, but the weird thing was that it felt almost like dancing with her brother. Innocent and sweet, but almost dutiful. His arms around her waist felt nothing like Conall’s had felt when he’d hauled her into his arms earlier. Despite the fact that he’d told her to forget it, she found herself remembering the way he had kissed her. Kissed her so hard that he’d left her feeling dazed.
‘Devlin is your lover?’ the Prince questioned suddenly, his voice breaking into her thoughts and amplifying them.
Slightly taken aback by his candour, Amber bit her lip. ‘No!’
‘But he would like to be.’
She shook her head. ‘He hates me,’ she said without thinking and then remembered that she was supposed to be there in the role of facilitator—not pouring out her heart to a royal stranger. ‘I’m sorry—’
But Luciano didn’t seem to notice for he lifted his hand to silence her apology. ‘He may hate you, but he wants you. He watches you as the snake watches a chicken, just before it devours it whole.’
Amber shivered. ‘That’s not a very nice image to paint, Your Highness.’
‘Maybe not, but it is an accurate one.’ He gave her a cool smile. ‘And you really should have mentioned that you speak Italian.’
Amber could feel a hot blush rising in her cheeks, so that any thought of denying it went straight out of the window. She looked up into Luciano’s bright blue eyes. ‘How—?’
‘Not difficult.’ He smiled. ‘When I was speaking to my aide you were trying very hard not to react to what I was saying, but I am adept in observing reactions. I have had enough attempts made on my life to recognise subterfuge, even though I sometimes cannot help but admire it. Tell Conall I had always intended to give him a fa
ir price for the painting.’
Amber tilted her chin. ‘She’s related to you, isn’t she? The woman in the painting?’
He grew still. ‘You recognised the family likeness, even though our colouring is quite different?’
Amber nodded. ‘I’m...I’m quite good at doing that. I have a lot of half-brothers and sisters.’
‘She is the daughter of my great-grandfather’s brother who was born at the beginning of the last century. He fell in love with an Englishwoman and eloped with her to America. It caused a great scandal in Mardovia at the time.’
‘I can imagine,’ commented Amber.
Luciano glanced at his watch. ‘At any other time I would be fascinated to continue this discussion but look over there—the Irishman has returned and his expression tells me that he does not like to see you in my arms like this.’
‘And you care what he thinks?’
‘No, but I think you do.’
