“Dancing with Bastian had such a strong effect on you?” he asked, advancing further.
She turned her head, casting her face into shadow, her expression obscured. “No. It had no effect on me. As usual. But it was more disturbing this time since the date of my official engagement is set now. And he’s very likely the one I’ll be engaged to. If his bid is high enough. I’ve been too cowardly to ask what the price is on my head, or hand, as the case may be.”
“You want to feel attraction for him?”
“I want something. Anything. As it is, he might as well be my brother.”
Mak stopped right in front of her, noticed a shimmer in her dark eyes, pale moonlight reflected there, betraying the depth of her emotion. He put his hand on her face. Just to offer comfort, just for a moment. There was no harm in that.
The feel of her smooth skin beneath his palm sent a shock of desire through him. Strong. Foreign. Intense. It was almost enough to simply feel that need. To revel in it, the desire of a man for a woman. Almost.
She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, the warm air skimming the inside of his wrist.
“Will you dance with me?” she asked.
“What?” He dropped his hand back to his side.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Dance with me. Please.”
Without thinking, he put his hand on the indent of her waist. Lust, real, raw, undiluted, shook him. She was soft, warm. She was alive. She took a step toward him, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder now, as he’d imagined in the ballroom.
He clenched his teeth together and took her hand in his, weaving their fingers together as he lifted their arms into position. She pressed her body against his, and he could feel her heart beating hard against his chest.
Touch. Real human touch, had not been a part of his life for so very long. To have a woman active beneath his hands rather than simply passive. Conscious. It was so very different from lifting his wife so that he could change her position in her hospital bed. So different from the experience of changing Marina’s clothes for her. Every day, touching her, knowing she still breathed but wasn’t really there.
His throat constricted and he pushed the memory aside. Marina was gone now. Truly gone. Not simply in spirit, as she had been since their first day of marriage, but in body now as well.
“I’m not very good at this,” he said.
“I’m not either.”
For a moment he didn’t move. He simply let every nuance of the moment sink into him. The feel of her gown beneath his hand, the heat of her body beneath that. The subtle scent of bougainvillea in the warm evening breeze, mingling with the scent of Eva. Teasing. Tantalizing. The way her hair tumbled over her shoulders, dark, silken curls that begged for his touch.
He closed his eyes and focused on the faint strains of music coming from the ballroom. It was soft, but he could still follow along with it. He took a breath and the first step. They moved in time with the song, or perhaps they didn’t. He was too lost in the feeling of her body against his to care. He slid his hand down from her waist to the rounded curve of her hip.
Then suddenly, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. To feel her skin beneath his palm instead of the heavy silken fabric of the dress. To feel the press of her body on his without his suit between them.
Her fingertips moved over his shoulder and he pulled his head back so he could look at her face. Their lips were so close. Kissing her would be the simplest thing in the world. Much easier than keeping his eyes on what he was here to do. Much easier than continuing to cling to his control.
He released his hold on her and stepped away.
“Mak?” There was a questioning note in her voice. “The song isn’t finished yet.”
“We’re through here,” he said, his voice rough, his words forced. He turned away from her, his heart raging, his body protesting. “Come, Eva. You need to rejoin the party before your absence is noticed.”
“I … Yes. I’m sure I do.” She walked past him and headed back into the palace.
Eva sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears that were forming at bay. She’d thought about what it might be like to dance with Mak earlier. Had imagined what heat she might feel in his arms.
Her imagination had been wrong.
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, holding herself tight, trying to keep herself from melting into a puddle. Maybe wrong wasn’t the right word. Maybe she’d underestimated.
Saying that being near Mak generated heat was like comparing a hot stove to molten lava. It was right, but it was far too weak. What Mak made her feel went beyond anything she’d ever imagined.
She burned where he’d touched her, a trail of fire that was sinking through her skin and igniting a trail along her veins, rushing through her body. Leaving an emptiness behind as it faded, devastation.
She didn’t understand it. Couldn’t fathom how a man who was as cold as stone could make her feel as if she was going to go up in flames.
But Mak wasn’t the man she was going to marry. The desire for anything else, no matter how deep, no matter how it made her breath shorten and her stomach tighten, was as impossible as it was forbidden.
Even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t want her.
CHAPTER SIX
“YOU have to get her out of Kyonos. Now.” King Stephanos slapped the day’s paper down onto the polished surface of his desk.
It had been three days since the ball. Three days since Mak had held Eva in his arms. Every one of those days since had made seeing her a sweet torment that he found he almost enjoyed. To want her as he did, to have the memory of what it felt like to have her heat beneath his hands … it kept him awake at night. Kept his body on edge. Made seeing her and not taking her into his arms again a near impossibility.
And yet, he had not done it. He had not touched her since.
Three days since that dance, more than two weeks since he’d dragged her out of the casino, but that event was now coming back around to bite Eva in a very big way. Or perhaps it was an example of things finally going according to her plans.
“Father …” Eva stepped closer to her father’s desk and touched the edge of the paper.
“You have done enough, Evangelina,” King Stephanos growled. He turned his focus on Makhail. “How do we solve this?” The king pointed at the offending headline, one that promised an interview with both men who had spent a wild night with Princess Evangelina Drakos before she was dragged out of their private room by her other lover.
“You’re right in suggesting she leave Kyonos. She needs to lie low until it all calms down, which it will, once the story is proven false. Easy enough to do, since I imagine I am the man they’re attempting to paint as her lover, and the room I took her from was anything but private.”
“I didn’t do anything with them,” Eva said, her voice shaking with anger.
“Don’t pretend this isn’t the headline you were after,” Mak said.
“Not this one specifically!” Eva said.
“You can’t control the media,” Mak said.
“You made this mess, Evangelina, you can hardly act indignant about it now,” Stephanos said. “This is why we have to be careful. This is why I have to hire someone to make sure you’re making appropriate decisions. A hint of anything scandalous and the press twists it into the most perverse version they can think of, better if a couple of fame-seekers are involved.”
“I have a place,” Mak said, his stomach tightening even as he suggested it. “There are very few people who know of its existence. It’s completely private. A couple of weeks there should help get her away from the worst of it. You can tell everyone she’s gone on a personal spa holiday.”
“Good. Take her there. I don’t even want to know where it is,” Stephanos said.
“Father …”
“No, Eva. We’ll talk later. For now, you’re going with him. And you will do as he says.”
Mak could see Eva tense, could tell she was grinding her teeth together in protest, holding in words she wouldn’t say.
“Come on,” he said, gesturing to Eva. “We’ll go and get your things together.”
Eva looked at her father one more time before heading toward the door of his office. Mak let her go through first, then followed her into the corridor. He closed the office door behind them, leaving them alone in the empty hall.
Her stomach lurched. Two weeks. For two weeks they were going to be alone. She and Mak. Just here, in the corridor, with her father in the next room, being alone with Mak made her heart pound faster and her hands shake.
To really be alone with him … She expected to feel a bit of fear at the thought. But the dominant emotion was excitement. A sort of limb-weakening excitement that she’d never experienced before.
She shook her head. There wasn’t anything to be excited about. Her name was splashed all over the tabloids, shocking claims attached to it. Blood flooded her face, making it feel hot, prickly, at the thought of what those two men claimed she’d done with them.
“Don’t look like that,” he said. “You wanted to get out.”
“I didn’t really want to be barricaded in your secret…. panic house, or whatever it is.” She swallowed hard, her heart fluttering.