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‘Dancing?’
‘Casting women under a spell.’
Her honesty tugged at him. Amused him. But also stirred something he hadn’t felt in a long time, a protective instinct that reminded him forcibly of nights worrying for his mother, wishing there were something he could do—
‘Is that what I’m doing?’
‘Oh, don’t ask that. It’s even more embarrassing if you’re not trying.’
He laughed, aware of the effect the sound had on her, of the way she stopped dancing and simply stared at him. Temptation had never been such a force to be grappled with as it was then. Her lips were so full and sweetly pink, they demanded to be kissed. Not just kissed, but ravished beneath the demands of his own mouth, to be drawn between his teeth, to be dominated completely.
‘I’m simply dancing with a beautiful young woman,’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders.
It was as if she’d been slapped. Sienna’s hands dropped to her sides and she took a step back from him, her face paling so the cheeky little freckles stood out much more.
‘I should go and check on my aunts, make sure they have drinks.’ Her smile was tight, lacking any of the spontaneity and mirth he’d seen earlier, and it felt as though he’d been cast to the dark side of the moon. He told himself he should be relieved—he needed space to get a grip on the attraction that was humming between them—but he wasn’t. ‘Excuse me.’
Before he could shake himself back to the here and now and reach out and catch her hand once more, she was gone, slipping through the crowd, spine ramrod-straight, as though she had something to prove—to him and the world. He watched her walk away, a frown on his face and an ache forming, deep, low in his gut.
