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"It's just a bookcase. I think Lysander was offended by the look of my carboard box of books on the floor of his room."
"Certainly, I had no desire to trip over it, but so long as you live there, my house is your home and should accommodate you accordingly."
Iona sucked in a shocked breath of air, but she wasn't the only one. Every person at the table looked gobsmacked at the idea of Lysander making that sort of claim.
A little dumbfounded herself, she was not at all offended.
After dinner, Lysander asked Rowan to dance. Remembering that dance they had shared years ago, she agreed without hesitation.
Their bodies fit together smoothly, and it was as if they had been dancing together for all the years in between.
Lysander held her close, his body heat reaching out to her, his muscular thighs rubbing against her own during certain moments. Forgetting the crowd surrounding them, Rowan gave herself up to the pleasure of being in his arms and moving to the music.
Someone tapped on Lysander's shoulder, and he tensed. Rowan looked up and into her ex-husband's mocking eyes. He thought he had them over a barrel, but only because he didn't understand his half-brother's character.
"Get lost," Lysander said without compunction.
Just as she'd expected him to.
And then he danced her away from Cyrus, who stood fuming and who had finally, truly been humiliated. But only because he'd tried to get Rowan to dance with him, believing that social conventions would force her to comply.
"You do not mind?" Lysander asked as they once again found the rhythm of the music with their bodies.
"No. If you hadn't said it, I would have." The very idea of Cyrus touching her, even for nothing more than a dance, made Rowan's skin crawl.
"He is an idiot."
"When you're right, you're right."
They danced through another song without interruption, heat building between them as it always did when their bodies were so close.
Until another unwelcome voice shattered the intimate bubble around them. This time the voice was feminine.
CHAPTER 15
"Mon ami, Lysander, what a pleasant surprise," the voice coming from behind Rowan could be no other than Adele Fournier.
Of course, she was at the gala, Rowan thought with a dose of sarcasm she tried to keep off her face.
Lysander stopped dancing, but he kept his arms around Rowan.
Adele laid her hand on Lysander's arm. "Shall we?"
The tall, willowy blond was sophisticated with an ethereal beauty often remarked upon by the press. Tonight, she was dressed to impress in a form fitting copper colored silk gown cut low in the front, making it impossible for her to be wearing one of the designer bras she modeled.
Rowan looked up at Lysander, wondering what he would do.
He was looking back, his expression asking her howsheplanned to respond. He had sent Cyrus on his way. Now, it was her turn.
Rowan gave Adele her best plastic social smile. "I'm afraid Lysander's dance card is full."
The supermodel looked her up and down and then focused on Lysander. "Is she why you aren't answering my texts or calls? Couldn't bypass the opportunity to stick it to your brother by bedding his wife?"
Lysander's big body stiffened and the air around them supercharged. Too busy trying to gauge Rowan's reaction to her barb to notice, Adele remained oblivious. Rowan knew why Lysander was with her and it wasn't to stick it to Cyrus.
They were so hot together, the sheets should be ash after every time they touched.
"Rowan is living in my house because I want her there. Because I wanther."
