Page 46 of Married By Scandal

The prince and I kept our voices low enough so as not to carry over the music, but to witnesses, it’s obvious our dance ended in some sort of falling out.

I release a heavy sigh. It doesn’t matter. This is what I came here to do. To tell the truth about what I do and don’t want. To show society who I really am and be unashamed of what they see.

Now that I’ve done what I came to do, I feel…good. Not great but good. That’s a start.

I turn on my heel, ready to exit the ballroom with my head held high, but a masked male figure stands in my way. He extends his hand.

My heart does a flip, sending my pulse hammering. The man who stands before me may hide his visage behind a full-face white-and-gold mask, and his suit may be inconspicuously plain, but I know who he is, even before he utters a word.

“Miss Fairfield.” The sound of my name on his lips is as soothing as a kiss on the brow. “May I have the honor of finishing this dance?”

21

Dante takes the space Albert vacated with the ease of a missing puzzle piece locking into place. Where the prince’s touch was loose and limp, Dante’s is firm. Anchoring. Perhaps even claiming. One hand lifts mine, caressing it as I lay my palm over his, while the other rests low on my back. The steadying pressure paired with his too-welcome nearness makes me stifle a gasp. Albert may have kept his distance, but Dante closes inches like a moth to a flame. With us, it’s the staying apart that feels difficult. And stay apart we must for—regardless of my rebellious statement with my fiery gown—we are at a formal ball.

“Ready?” Dante asks, and I hear the smile in his voice. It’s criminal that I can’t see his grin behind the full mask.

I give him a nod and we find our steps with ease, melding with the flow of the other dancers as if we’ve been swaying to the song all along.

“You’re here,” I say, finally finding my voice. “I…I didn’t expect you to be. Why…why are you here?”

He leans closer as we step and sway. “I’m watching over Albert from a distance like I should have done from the start.”

My disappointment at his answer is palpable. Despite my joy in seeing him, in being close to him once more, I’m reminded of how I felt when he left me after the premiere. A spike of anger sharpens my tongue. “Then why are you with me instead of watching him now?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he holds my gaze as we shift and turn, in harmony with the other dancers moving across the floor. With our next turn, his eyes dart briefly away from me. “Albert is at the refreshments table downing a glass of wine while simultaneously flirting with a blonde who is…ah, unsurprisingly, it’s Holly Abercrombie.”

We turn again, and I try to catch sight of wherever he was looking. I see nothing beyond the other dancers and the chatting crowd. I suppose Dante is trained to notice things most others disregard.

“He must be happy to see Miss Abercrombie,” I say stiffly.

His eyes flick sideways. “No, he’s hiding now that he realizes it’s her.”

“Why is he hiding? I thought they were in love.”

“She might be in love with him, but…” His gaze returns to mine, and my stomach flutters at the sudden weight in his stare. “I fear I’ve given my friend too much credit. I don’t think he knows the meaning of love.”

My throat constricts at the word. “Why are you here, Dante? With me, I mean.”

He releases a sigh behind his mask. “I’m sorry I broke my promise. I know I said I’d stay away from you.”

I want to tell him I’m not sorry, but I’m still too wounded. As much as I understand his reasons for having left me that night with a vow to stay away for good, it still hurts. “If you’re so sorry, then why did you break your promise? I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

“You know as well as I do that my actions had nothing to do with lack of want, Amelie.”

He’s right, and I can’t keep my hackles up much longer. Already I feel my walls coming down, melting in his proximity like snow on a sunny day. “Then why? Why did you ask me for this dance?”

“I saw you standing alone, saw Albert walk away…”

I arch a brow. “And you wanted to rescue me?”

“Yes,” he says without an ounce of shame. “I wanted to rescue you, so I came to offer you a dance. Though, people are still staring at you, so I think I’ve once again simply acted out of selfish desire.”

“What selfish desire would that be?” Unable to help myself, I arch closer to him, discarding propriety until our chests are nearly touching.

“The desire to be close to you.”

“You aren’t afraid of my flames?”

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