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“Yes, well, that formidable woman sent me to tell you that she expects you immediately after breakfast. Which I am sure I do not need to translate for you means too damn early.”
Wren feared Sophie might just rip the dress off and be done with it, but then seeming to think better of it she did drink the last of her wine.
“Sophie, just how much wine have you had?”
In answer, Sophie actually stuck her tongue out at her.
Wesley let out a booming laugh, earning him a startled jump from Sophie. “Oops, I suppose that was not the lady-like decorum my mother demanded.” She glanced nervously between them. “She’s not looking over here, is she?”
Wren peered over her shoulder finding Lady Daugherty in conversation with some other lord. She shook her head and Sophie sighed with relief.
“How are you this evening, Prince Wesley?” asked Sophie, finding her manners.
“Very well, Lady Sophie. What about you?” He wore his charm like it was a second skin.
Sophie groaned. “Please, just Sophie. Truly, I will never know why I was cursed to this life.”
Wren rolled her eyes at Sophie’s dramatics. She wasn’t sure where Sophie fit into the world, but she was sure this wasn’t it.
“Prince Wesley, I wondered if I might ask a rather large favor from you?” asked Sophie who seemed to shrink into herself.
“Of course, Sophie,” he readily agreed.
“My mother’s made me agree to come to dinner, mingle a bit, and she made me agree to one dance and then I can be free from this hellish prison.”
Though there was no question directed at him, Wesley smiled and nodded all the same. With a nod to Wren, he offered Sophie his arm and they moved to the dance floor. Wren covered her mouth trying to stifle the laugh that threatened to burst from her at seeing Sophie’s discomfort on the dance floor. The music was slow, but she still looked as if she was concentrating on not tripping, the prince’s grace offsetting her clumsiness only slightly.
She was so engrossed watching them she hadn’t noticed when Malaki had taken the space next to her till he said, “How drunk is she, that she is willingly dancing? Or is she a prisoner and I must defend her honor?”
Wren was surprised to hear the mirth in his voice, but then again, Sophie had always been different to him. “She is indeed a prisoner, but I must inform you, it is not Wesley holding her captive, but rather your aunt.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded gravely. “Ah, I should have known that. My aunt encourages a lot of Sophie’s independence, but she does demand some tradition.”
“I wondered—” The lack of confidence he normally had gave Wren pause. “Would you like to dance with me? It’s only—it would be suspicious if we did not.”
Wren looked over at him, sure he was jesting after their argument last time they attempted to dance together. She was surprised to see only sincerity in his handsome features.
Wren studied him a moment longer before holding out her arm, which he took and then guided her to the floor.
“You truly are radiant tonight. I am sorry I did not tell you earlier at your door.”
The sincerity in the words took her back, but where she expected to see mirth in his eyes she only saw genuine clarity.
“Thank you,” she said over the gumminess in her throat.
Silence fell between them as the music caught beneath her feet. She tilted her head back when he twirled her, delighting in the feel of the air rushing around her. When the music stopped they were both breathing heavily with the effort of the dance.
His gaze burned into her. “What are you?” The words were full of awe.
Before she could answer the confusing question she was saved by Prince Richard approaching them. “I wondered if I might steal my lovely sister for a dance.”
Malaki pulled her a little closer to him as he had not released his hands from their original resting places. He didn’t even notice her unspoken question as he glared at his brother. Wren wondered then about what the king had said about Malaki being protective of her, and for the first time she could see some truth in it. The thought caused something foreign and confusing to spread throughout her.
Ignoring the unwelcome feeling, she said. “It is all right. I do not mind.”
He seemed to war with himself, but passed her hand to his brother, a warning in his eyes to the younger man who oddly nodded back at him.
“I believe I owe you a debt,” he said over the instruments.
