Page 133 of Seducing Hope (The Hope Legacy)

“Seems I’m saving you once again.”

“Don’t push it, Reinheart.”His lips twitch.

I slide off the seat and take his arm. “That would be lovely.”

Dalton extends a hand to Archan and deepens his voice. “I’m Dalton Miller.”

Archan raises one perfect eyebrow. “I know.” He ignores Dalton’s hand and guides me toward the dance floor. His hair is down, framing his beautiful face, and his eyes glitter with amusement. His custom-tailored tux shows every flex of his muscles as he moves. He looks like a god among men—and perhaps he is. If I was a maiden in a different era, I would probably use a fan to cool my face and swoon right about now—maybe. After a moment, I realize he’s actually leading me to the dance floor. I raise my eyebrows. “You dance?”

He squeezes my hand. “Of course.”

Halting in front of the band, I pull his hand back and grin at him. “Pick a dance.”

He looks at me, confused. “A dance?”

I give him a teasing smile. “Pick a dance, I’ll pick the music.”

He tilts his head. “We’ll start you in easy… Let’s foxtrot.”

“Starting in easy, huh? A little presumptuous. Who says you’ll get more than one dance? I have many suitors.” I wave my hand, indicating the rest of the room.

He leans in closer, holding my eyes. “Is that so? And when you’ve picked your suitor for the evening, what then?” I lick my top lip and swallow, trying to wet my suddenly dry mouth. He moves his lips to my ear and whispers, “When you’ve had me wrapped around your body, you will want no other.”

“Are we still talking about dancing?” I croak. He gives me a crooked grin, making me hitch in a breath—that look should be illegal. After giving the band my choice, Archan winds us to the center of dance floor. He clasps my hand in his and slides his other hand under my arm and around my back.

I grin. “I’m impressed. You know how to hold a lady.”

“Were you ever in doubt?”

The band begins playing the sensual notes of “Fever” by Peggy Lee, and we start to glide across the dance floor. He looks down at me and gives me a wide, genuine smile. He leans down to my ear, his breath making the stray hairs on my neck tickle. I shiver. “An appropriate choice, Natia.”

The only heat is his natural warmth, yet my skin sings with the pleasure of being near him; his smell is intoxicating, fogging my mind with thoughts of sin and delicious pleasure. He’s proving it’s me and him—no power games. And it’s disarming.

“You look magnificent, Natia. An enchantress. Every man in this room is wishing they were me right now, holding your amazing body close, listening to you laugh, feeling your heartbeat next to theirs, and your breath caress their cheek.” He lowers his hand to the small of my back, pulls me closer, and nips my ear. “But they can’t… You’re mine.”

My breath catches in my throat. Mayday, mayday—controlled descent aborted. Does anyone have a manual for surviving this roller-coaster?

We dance to a few more songs; apparently, he’s determined to prove he can dance. When we take a break, I go in search of champagne while Archan goes to the restroom. I spot a waiter and head in his direction.

Dalton steps in front of me with a sneer on his face. “Who’s the boyfriend, Nat?” I straighten my spine. This man will not get a reaction out of me—he doesn’t deserve one.

“None of your business.”

“Oh, I think it is. You’re back from your little fantasy of being a dancer—it’s time you come back to me, where you belong, and stop acting like a cheap slut on the dance floor.”

Everyone in the immediate area takes a step back, forming a small circle around us, and gawks. I keep my voice quiet. “I’m sorry. Was it not you I found in my bed with my friend after five years of being together? Was it notyouwho thought a good break-up strategy was to have sex with someone else?

“You have done nothing with your life since leaving college. You contribute to society in no useful way, and the air you breathe is being stolen from a billion other people who deserve it more than you. Instead, you spend your days in mommy and daddy’s golf club, talking‘business’with the boys. You’re a sanctimonious pig. You have no passion, no desire to become something more than you are today, and have no craving to make this world a better place.”

I turn to walk away, but he grabs my arm. I pluck a drink out of the hand of the woman next to me. “Take your hands off me before I break every one of your fingers,” I hiss, just before I throw the drink in his face. He instinctively lets go, and I hand the glass back to the skinny, wide-eyed woman and stalk off, my dress rustling.

My emotions begin to boil, and power whirls inside me, begging to be released. I throw open the doors leading to the garden and step into the cool evening air. I inhale sharply, not realizing I’ve been holding my breath, and stalk toward the guest house—my house. My heel gets caught in the grass, and I tug off my shoes, feeling the crunch of the frozen ground beneath my feet; it cools my emotions. My anger and embarrassment seep into the dirt beneath me.

I make my way down a small hill toward my house and the tree swing Gramps put up so many years ago. Facing away from the main house, I sit on the wooden perch and lift my feet off the ground. The momentum of the swing moves me in slow circles. Holding the ropes, I lean my body back and let my head fall to look at the stars. My eyes trace the constellations, settling on Cassiopeia. Away from the city, you can see thousands of tiny bright lights peeking through the inky sky.

I feel him before I see him—a swell of warmth and power. His scent of dark chocolate, sandalwood, and vanilla wraps around me.

He stares down into my eyes, pulling me from my star gazing. “What do you see?” he asks.

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