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He swung himself out of bed and she resisted the temptation to close her eyes, to block out the masculinity, the clean muscular lines of his body. A body that had given her so much joy.
‘Let me help.’ He picked the rest of her clothes up from the floor and placed them on the bed.
Scooping up the clothes and tucking the sheet around her, Kaitlin sought refuge in the sumptuous bathroom. She avoided her reflection in the ornate gilded mirror as she scrambled into her dress. It would all be fine once she’d had a chance to shower and put on fresh clothes and focus.
On her return to the bedroom she found Daniel standing by the door, clad now in jeans, leaning back on the wall.
‘What’s the rush? This doesn’t have to be awkward.’
‘It’s not awkward. It’s realistic. We have to make sure no one suspects what happened last night.’
Not that she cared—all that mattered now was the imperative to curtail the rot of unwanted emotion. Filter her heart of even the tiniest propensity towards love. To do that she needed to be Lady Kaitlin Derwent with all the fibre of her body and soul.
Confusion flickered in his blue eyes and then it was gone. He pushed himself away from the wall and nodded. ‘Of course. I suggest we go downstairs in half an hour—I’ll see if Roberto can chaperone us over breakfast.’
‘Perfect.’
The irony was not lost on her—perfection did not encompass the prickle of incipient tears or add weight to her heart. More stupid pointless feelings that she had to stop, crush, destroy. No matter what it cost her she would find her even keel once more—all she had to do was get through the next hours and it would be over. Daniel would be banished from her life and her mind.
There was no alternative.
* * *
Yet as she surveyed her reflection that evening, prior to the meet-and-greet, tears still threatened to seep.
Why had she chosen lace for her ball gown? The floor-length, deep V-necked dress was beautiful, it was true—French lace with a floral motif over a nude silk lining. The top half hugged her figure, a slim black band emphasised her slender waist and the skirt flared to the floor. The back view was equally demure, with a bit of sass provided by the keyhole opening.
But the lace reminded her too much of the night before—the short blue dress, sun-kissed by Venice, being slipped off her shoulders in an urgent sweep of Daniel’s strong hands, the sensation against her skin as it fell to the floor...
Stop.
Different dress. Different night. Different woman.
Tonight Lady Kaitlin Derwent would prevail.
The night took on an Alice in Wonderland quality, and she really wouldn’t have been surprised to see a white rabbit materialise amongst the bejewelled, designer-clad guests. The ballroom seethed with glamour, amid the pop of champagne corks and under the brilliant glitter of the glorious neo-baroque chandeliers.
Through it all Kaitlin conversed and smiled, made witty and scintillating conversation, and felt the balm of being Lady Kaitlin heal her. From somewhere she found the dignity not to let her gaze follow Daniel’s powerful form as he too played his part—the host with the most.
Yet some inner radar gave her an unerring insight into his exact location at any point...some hyper-awareness of him.
‘Good-looking devil, isn’t he?’
Kaitlin found the correct smile for the three-times Oscar-nominated actor, gorgeous in a dress that shimmered silver. ‘There are a number of men here who could be described as such.’
‘Daniel Harrington... He doesn’t usually grace events like this—in fact he’s a bit of a dark horse. Is he yours, darling, or can I see if I can win his favour?’
The demon of jealousy tore its claws across her heart, but Lady Kaitlin didn’t waver. A slight rise of the eyebrows, exactly the right touch of aristocratic hauteur offset by a smile that indicated understanding. ‘He’s as free as the proverbial bird, as far as I’m aware.’
Surely that must be the worst of this evening? But no... Next up was the auction where she stood next to Daniel, her cheeks aching under the weight of her smile, her vocal cords straining to deliver. But she did it. She managed to get over the impact of him, the smell of him, the memory of him.
Because as they bantered and delivered just the right sales pitch she remembered the teens she had met and bonded with, and all those other children out there who would benefit from this auction, and she threw herself into it heart and soul.
All she wanted at the end was to be allowed to leave and seek the sanctuary of her room, but that wasn’t possible.
‘And now let the dancing begin! And I’d like to invite our gracious hosts to open the proceedings with the waltz which I understand from Daniel you danced so beautifully at your brother’s wedding, Lady Kaitlin.’
Please, no. This had to be some sort of joke. But, no—Roberto beamed at her and Kaitlin realised that the nightmare scenario had, against all the odds, got worse.
