Promised to the Swedish Prince - Sasha Cottman Page 0,40

Countess Erika Jansson belonged to him.

Chapter Twenty-One

She missed the joy of the waltz. Her injured knee had meant that at most balls Erika had been relegated to either the role of wallflower, simply watching, or standing alongside her father while he discussed all manner of matters diplomatic. The only dancing, she had undertaken over the past couple of years had been in the privacy of her room, alone with an imaginary partner.

A dance partner who, now she came to think of it, had always closely resembled Prince Christian. She forced the indulgent notion away. This moment, here and now, while based in the real world, was actually just another fantasy—one in which she had a role to play.

The elite of English society had to believe that she and Christian were a loving, devoted couple. It was a romantic fairy tale that the two of them were weaving, nothing more.

The ground floor of Carlton House was a series of large spaces and anterooms. Every room was full of people, all laughing, drinking and being seen. An orchestra had set up in one of the recesses just outside the round Bow Room. This room with its gold-themed decorations was the perfect place for dancing.

Christian led Erika in from the conservatory, through several other rooms and finally into the Bow Room. People moved aside and created space around them. The orchestra immediately struck up a lively tune, the conductor smiling, clearly pleased with himself.

“Obviously Sir Richard has not had time to speak to the chap,” said Christian.

He let loose his hold on Erika’s hand and made a beeline for the group. The moment Christian stopped alongside him, the conductor waved his hands and silenced the musicians. There was a lot of nodding, and ‘I am so sorry’ was offered several times before Christian finally returned to her. “Sir Richard did give the man his instructions—he just got a little over excited.”

The music for a slow waltz filled the room.

Christian bowed to her and offered his hand. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Countess Erika?”

Always and forever.

“Yes, Prince Christian,” she replied.

The moment his hand slipped about her waist; a frisson of heat raced down Erika’s spine. She shivered at the sensation. He pulled her closer and brushed a kiss on her cheek. It was all she could do not to melt into his embrace.

The gathering collectively sighed.

Erika’s gaze locked on her father. Magnus stood close to the Prince Regent—both wore appreciative grins. Everyone in this little false fantasy was playing their part to perfection.

She lifted her gaze to meet Christian’s, filling the smile she gave him with everything she truly held in her heart. There would be few opportunities for her to let her love for him shine. She wasn’t going to waste this one.

My love for you is real, Christian, and tonight I am not going to pretend. I am yours even if only for a little while.

“Ready?” he whispered.

Erika nodded.

Christian stepped into the waltz at the exact right moment. With skill and perfect timing, he took Erika with him. He held her close—at times probably a little too close—but she was not going to ask him to loosen his hold. After the second turn, when he lifted her at the point where her knee would be under the most strain, she finally understood what he was doing.

He was taking care of her, making sure that he did everything to help keep her from pain. His grip was light, but sure. She had never felt so secure with a man before.

“Thank you,’ she whispered.

Erika relaxed into the dance, placing her trust in Christian and his strength. An easy laugh came to her lips. “I feel like a princess from an old Swedish folktale.”

Christian chuckled. “I had better be the handsome prince and not the old troll.”

Their gazes met and the spark of mirth in his bright blue eyes made her heart soar.

If only this could last forever.

“Let others join in!” cried the Prince Regent. At that, people quickly paired up and the Bow Room was soon filled with dancing couples.

With all the attention no longer focused just on them, Erika let her gaze settle and remain on Christian. “You have become quite the adept dancer. I thought you were not one for the waltz.”

“I wasn’t, but Anna made me see sense. Once I understood the appeal of the dance and how one could hold a young lady close without being beaten around the ears by her mamma, I took to it