the Wyldes stood to one side of the ballroom, watching Seb and Anya dance.
Georgie took a thoughtful sip of her champagne. “No wonder Seb didn’t want to stay for dinner with us the other night. He had all that temptation waiting for him back at the Tricorn.”
“They do make a beautiful couple.” Emmy sighed.
“Like a fairy-tale prince and princess,” Georgie added, her eyes shining.
Their husbands both rolled their eyes.
“You’re blind,” Alex said. “And delusional. They’re arguing. I can tell from here.”
Emmy tilted her head, studying them carefully. “No, I don’t think so. There’s tension there, but it’s not animosity. It’s more like … passion. Barely contained.”
Georgie lifted her brows. “You think they—”
“Failed to contain it?” Emmy chuckled. “Oh, come on, look at them. Of course they did.”
“So, what went wrong?” Georgie asked. “They’re clearly at odds now. Do you think Seb got bored? Is that tiara his idea of a parting gift?”
Alex shook his head. “He hasn’t lost interest, believe me.” He sent Benedict an amused glance over Georgie’s head. “He’s been like a bear with a sore head all week. Whoever said ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ was way off the mark. In Seb’s case, absence makes the heart grow moody and irritable.”
“Poor Seb,” Emmy chided. “You could be a bit more sympathetic.”
Alex stifled a snort. “‘Poor Seb,’ my arse. He did nothing but take the piss out of the two of us when we fell in love with you two. He deserves everything he gets. It’s about time someone gave him a run for his money.” He caught Benedict’s eye again. “Do you remember what he said to me at Manton’s?”
“What?”
“He said he wanted to strangle her.’”
Emmy looked mystified. “Is that a good thing? It doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
Alex slid his arm around her waist and drew her into the cradle of his body. “Oh, it is, my little thief. It most definitely is.”
Georgie and Emmy shared a look.
“Men are incomprehensible,” Georgie declared.
“We think the same thing about you women.” Her husband chuckled. He glanced over at Alex and raised his brows. “The question is, of course, whether the stubborn idiot is going to do anything about it?”
Chapter 33.
Anya’s heart was beating painfully fast as she and Wolff swirled around the dance floor. His proximity was playing havoc with her composure. Even his slightest touch enflamed her. Part of her resented it. Why him? Why not someone less complicated, more suitable?
Still, she savored the sensation of being in his arms, even at such a frustratingly polite distance. The scent of him teased her nostrils, and her fingers tightened involuntarily on his shoulder. His muscles were reassuringly solid beneath the exquisitely cut coat.
The warmth radiating from him sent tremors of recognition through her, and a blush rose in her cheeks as she vividly recalled the feel of his body within her own—the heat and abandon, the exquisite combination of friction and glide. His strong body shuddering in ecstasy.
She wanted her gloves gone so she could feel the heat and the texture of his skin. She wanted to slide her hand up the slope of his neck, to thread her fingers through his hair and tug him down for a passionate kiss.
She wanted to lead him out of this stuffy, overcrowded ballroom and into somewhere dark. A room, the moonlit garden, anywhere private, to slake the thirst and hunger she had for him.
He caught her eye and gave her one of his lazy, intimate smiles, as if he guessed the direction of her thoughts. The strength of her own desire shocked her. It was something primitive, uncivilized. It came from somewhere deep within, a place where she was not a princess, but simply a woman.
She couldn’t believe he’d had her tiara remade. Did he appreciate the enormity of it? Did he understand what it meant to her to have her family’s history restored? In one fell swoop, he’d erased her past misdeed in destroying it and had given her a new symbol of hope to pass down to future generations.
She thought perhaps he did comprehend it. Then she reminded herself not to read too much into his gesture. He enjoyed beautiful things. Perhaps having the tiara reconstructed was no different from him demanding culinary excellence from Lagrasse or ordering the finest pair of dueling pistols from Manton.
The music came to an end on an uplifting series of chords, and she forced her hands down to her sides. She tried to think of something to say, but words