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She looked up at him, staring down at her with earnest hazel eyes. ‘You said you’d never be unfaithful.’
‘That’s true. Perhaps there’s a meagre chance for me after all.’ He chuckled. ‘So, what do you think? Will it do?’
‘It’s too much. Surely you have something in some vault you could use?’
‘The traditional engagement ring in my family would be the Astill Amethyst.’ He smiled. ‘You hate purple. If you don’t like the opal, we can find something else.’
Something clenched deep inside her. Her parents hadn’t remembered she hated purple when they’d presented her with the parure on her twenty-first birthday. Or perhaps they didn’t care. She looked at the ring, still held between them by Lance’s long, elegant fingers.
‘It’s perfect,’ Sara whispered.
‘Then it’s yours.’
He slid the jewel into the pocket of his trousers and took her left hand. Lifted it to his lips and kissed. A flush of heat flooded her cheeks.
‘There’s really no need—’
‘Hush.’ He pulled her into him. Leaned down. This close, with all his vibrancy and vigour and strength, the man was too much. Sara closed her eyes, absorbing the heat of him. His earthy scent that twisted her insides into complicated knots. He murmured in her ear, ‘I may be the Dastardly Duke, but I do believe in doing things properly. Even this.’
Lance released her and she wavered. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to remind herself this was all fake. Men like him didn’t fall for women like her. Then he took both of her hands in his, his warm, solid grip holding her steady. He stared deep into her eyes and she lost herself in the fathomless green of his, the golden fleck in them that gleamed like the opal in his pocket. So serious, so sincere. She had trouble breathing, getting any air.
‘Sara.’ His voice hit her like a shot of schnapps, sliding through her veins, straight to her heart. He was intoxicating. A girl could get quite drunk on him.
‘I’m no prince. In fact, you’ll come to learn I’m more toad than frog so, luckily for you, none of this is real. However, I’ll do my level best to duel any dragons that come to your door in our brief time together...’ He smiled down at her and everything ignited. ‘If you think that’ll do. That it’s good enough for a woman who was once destined to be a queen. Will you do me the immeasurable honour of becoming my fake fiancée?’
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and looked down at the ancient cobblestones in this dim back lane, somehow separate from the bustle of London, in a world of their own, and blinked away burgeoning tears. His proposal, for this crazy arrangement, was more romantic than her own real one had been. When she’d become engaged to Ferdinand, he’d simply pronounced,‘It’s time we made this official.’
‘Of course,’ she said to the stones underfoot.
‘I didn’t hear you. Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about the sincerity of my false declaration. A man’s ego might not stand it.’
She bit her lip to stifle a giggle. Trust Lance to make her laugh. Sara chanced a look at him and he smiled, wide and bright. It was enough to warm her on this chilly day.
He raised an eyebrow, tapping his foot in mock impatience. ‘I’m waiting.’
‘Yes. I’d love to be your temporary fiancée.’
‘Excellent.’ He took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was warm from his touch and fitted perfectly. Sara didn’t believe in signs, so why did this feel like a portent of...something? She placed her hand to his chest, the strong muscle firm and hot underneath her palm.
‘Thank you. For saving me.’
A look passed across his face. Not a shadow, exactly, but something dark and thrilling nonetheless. Then it was replaced by a flash of heat and, even though she wasn’t experienced in many things, she recognised that look. The flare of his nostrils as he cupped his hands either side of her jaw. All of this made it impossible to think, witnessing the...intent written over his face. Her lips parted to sip at the air because a tight band had wrapped round her chest and squeezed. His eyes flicked to her mouth, caught there.
‘Lance?’ Her voice was husky and low, sounding nothing like her at all.
‘Let’s take a moment to savour this unique event.’ His thumbs brushed her cheeks and a tremor ran through her which had nothing to do with the cold breeze blowing down the lane. Then he dropped his head. She knew what was coming and, even though this was fake, she felt a heady rush of anticipation. Sara closed her eyes as his warm breath brushed across her skin, leaving tingles in its wake. Lance was so close the heat emanated from him as he held himself a sliver away. He was waiting for her, she knew, to say no if this wasn’t what she wanted. But oh, how shecravedhim.
‘Sara.’
The whisper of her name brushed her skin and she was lost to him, closing the minute distance between them to press her lips to his, her kindling to his spark, and she ignited. His mouth moved over hers, gentle and coaxing. She sighed into him as his arms slid round her and drew her close, melting as his tongue dipped, touching hers. A question which she answered by opening for him, slipping her arms round his neck and drawing him down. He plundered then, invaded her, and she gasped at the slick seduction of it all, tasting and teasing each other in a lonely lane in the middle of London, where the world rushed round them and could end for all she cared. This glorious moment witnessed only by the old stones.
Sara was lost in it but Lance slowed, his mouth luxuriating over hers before easing to a stop as he drew away. He glanced up the lane briefly, eyes narrowing, then turned back to her, removing his hands from her cheeks. She felt the loss of him to her very core. Her heart pounded against her ribs and everything tilted on its axis. Did it tilt for him too? She couldn’t really tell, though a slight crease had formed between his brows. Maybe she’d done it all wrong? She was scared she had and didn’t know why it mattered.
Then he tucked a loose curl behind her ear. Traced the shell of it with his finger and his touch sparked across her. His lips tilted into something enigmatic.
‘I hope that was better thanmoist.’
She rocked back on her heels. It was about that? A strange sense of ego? Because her past had no part in what was going on here. Ferdinand was a mere shadow against this vibrant, elemental man. She began shivering and it had nothing to do with the chill breeze that swirled around them.
