London Dynasty (The Dynasties #1) - Geneva Lee Page 0,36

took another step closer, trapping our clasped hands between our bodies. “Tell me what you did in there. Listen? Did you bite your lip to keep quiet?” He pressed his groin against the back of my hand and I felt the hard proof that he was enjoying himself now. “Did you imagine what this looked like? How it would feel to be the one pinned against the wall?”

“No,” I said in a low voice, not trusting myself to say more.

He leaned closer until he was so close that any movement at all would bring my lips to his. I held entirely still, my breath caught in my throat. “Was that because you were too busy touching yourself?”

“Fuck you,” I breathed, catching his heady scent and feeling dizzy.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He lifted my hand, and kissing it, winked at me. “Until next time, dirty girl.”

He left me there with those words—an echo of the ones he put in my head yesterday—bouncing around in my pheromone-soaked brain. I was still processing my separate encounters with the Byrd brothers when Iris appeared.

“There you are!” she cried. “I’ve been looking...darling, what’s wrong?”

I closed my eyes, gathering all my strength before meeting her concerned expression. “Nothing. Father’s angry with me about the announcement being postponed.”

“That’s not your fault. I’ll speak with him.”

“Don’t,” I said quickly. The last thing I wanted was to cause problems for her. I just needed to get my head on straight and remember what was at stake. I was nothing more than a paid performer. I’d been given my role and agreed to the terms. If I expected Tod Belmond to fulfill his end of the bargain, I had to uphold mine. “I just need to find Spencer. Maybe I can talk to him.”

I needed to get this on track. Everything depended on it.

“That’s why I’m here,” Iris said, looking pleased to be of help as she delivered what she assumed was an innocent request. “Caroline insists you two dance together. She went to find Spencer and I promised I would get you.”

“He says he wants to get to know me, but he acts like I’m just a pawn. His brother told me he’s trying to piss off his grandfather, ” I confided my misery to Iris.

“Be careful around Holden Byrd,” she advised me. “As for feeling like a pawn? Do you remember why I chose this gown?”

“Because I’m a queen?” I smiled sheepishly at the reminder. “I’m not sure that it matters if no one else sees me that way.”

Iris turned a blinding smile on me. “Let them underestimate you, but never forget the power you hold. If they think you’re a pawn, you have the upper hand. A queen moves freely. Don’t forget that.”

I nodded as we stepped into the drawing-room, and, as if to prove her point, the crowd parted before us, opening a path for me to pass. As we reached the far end, Spencer stepped into view. Iris faded from my side as he extended his hand.

“Shall we dance, Kerrigan?”

I offered him a demure smile, remembering what Iris had said. I took his hand and told him exactly what he wanted to hear, “Whatever you wish, Spencer.”

Chapter Sixteen

Every head turned to watch us as we stepped onto the dance floor. Sparrow Court’s drawing-room had been converted into a ballroom since we arrived. A man in a tuxedo took a seat behind the grand piano in the corner of the room and a moment later, the first notes of Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2 filled the air. Spencer placed his hand on my waist and began the first steps of a waltz.

“Everyone is looking at us,” I murmured, keenly aware of the fact that the room had stopped to watch as we spun slowly to the languid melody.

“Everyone is looking at you,” he said. “And I can’t blame them.”

I arched an eyebrow, searching for a clue as to his sudden, mercurial shift in attitude.

“I apologize for earlier,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“And to what do I owe this change of heart?” I asked. With each step we took, I became more aware of the spots where our bodies touched: his hand on my waist, the other clasped with mine, the strong shoulder I gripped as I allowed him to lead me in the steps of the waltz.

“I can’t simply apologize?”

“You don’t strike me as the type to be sorry for anything,” I answered honestly, wondering if he would be offended. Instead,