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Lance’s mouth curved into a sly smile. Then he lowered his head towards her and her breath caught.
‘It’sallabout the thrill of waiting, angel,’ he murmured. They stood close again, bodies a whisper away from each other, ‘That’s what makes anticipation such fun.’
Everything slowed. She looked up at him, deep into his hazel eyes flecked with gold, the pupils dark with intent. All his attention was focused on her, the moment sparking with a kind of magic. Then he took a small step back and a long swig of his champagne, and whatever was between them faded like morning mist in the sunshine.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint,’ Lance went on. ‘What I’ve found requires authentication first. But when it is it’ll set the art world alight and make my auction house notorious. One more thing for my father to roll over in his grave about.’
She wanted him close. She wanted secrets between them. She wanted to...hold onto this sensation that shivered through her, one she had trouble understanding.
‘You know the palace has a Michelangelo,’ Sara said. ‘Or so it’s claimed. I don’t think it’s real.’
‘It’s not. It was painted by one of his students. But they like to pretend. How did you know?’
‘I know the difference between a Rembrandt and a Rubens.’
Lance raised his eyebrows. ‘I should hope so, they’re entirely different eras.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I was going for the alliteration.’
He smiled again. The wry curve of his lip was back. The wicked gleam in his eyes speared her and she felt the heated stab of it right down to the tip of her toes.
‘Still hasn’t answered my question,’ he said. ‘Or do you enjoy...punishing me by keeping me in suspense?’
She could keep him languishing for hours if it would keep them like this, together, for a little longer. In the end she took pity on him.
‘I studied fine arts. I wanted to help curate the palace’s collection when I was...’Queen.Her tutor had thought she had an aptitude for it, an innate ability to pick real from fake. Something she wouldn’t need now. Now, she had nothing. It was as if she were a blank notebook, yet she didn’t know what she wanted to write inside. She had no idea what to do with herself any more. Initially that sensation of being adrift was freeing. Now, her lack of purpose and whatever new plans her parents were hinting at for her sat like curdled milk in her belly... She shook the feeling off. She had here. She had now. And she’d live in this precious and perfect moment.
‘Anyhow,’ she said, ‘I wanted to do something useful. Something I loved.’
Lance gazed down on her in a way she had never seen Ferdinand look at her. Her former fiancé had been all cool reserve and disinterest. Now, she was being observed as if she were some precious bejewelled thing this man wanted to pluck from a shelf, lock in a vault and keep to himself.
‘Who’d have thought in this godforsaken country I’d find someone like you?’
There was some movement to the side and Lance turned his head. She didn’t take her eyes from him. She couldn’t. His profile, the perfect straight nose. Transfixed by the curve of his lips. His strong, angular jaw. She noticed then a thin white line just under his ear.
‘You have a scar.’
His head whipped round, his eyes widening a fraction before his lips thinned. ‘Don’t we all?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Here...’
Sara couldn’t help it. She reached out to touch and he jerked away. Foolish girl. Those unseemly emotions had run away with her again. This, between them, meant nothing. It was a dalliance for him before he returned to the UK and forgot all about her.
You’ll never have his heart...
That was fine. She could accept a man like Lance wouldn’t really be interested in her. Anyhow, after her crushing engagement to the Crown Prince she didn’t need some dashing duke in her life. She needed to find herself, find her way. Flirtation might be on the agenda. Attaching herself to another man like a limpet, only to have him prise her off? No way.
Sara took a deep breath. She should go, back to that stultifying table with her parents. She was about to step away when Lance moved first.
‘I think we’ve done enough to ensure you’re talked about for a while.’
She looked up at him and his expression now conveyed the same polite disinterest Ferdinand’s had. She didn’t know why the realisation hurt so much. She had no claim on Lance. She didn’t really know him at all.
‘That’s a good thing?’ she asked.
‘You wanted scandal. This is as much as I can do for you. And now I should take my leave.’ He turned his head again and she saw there was movement at the bridal table. ‘The King and Queen appear done, and I won’t keep royalty waiting.’
Lance clasped his hands behind his back and gave her a small bow. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her clutching his business card in her hand.
