Page 35 of Stranded with His Runaway Bride

‘It’s salsa.’

‘You do it well.’

‘I’m a dancer, remember.’

‘That’s sultrier than any ballet I’ve ever seen.’

She swirled her hips again. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Teach me?’

‘You can already dance.’

‘Enough to twirl a visiting royal around the dance floor when required, but not like that.’

She studied him, frowning. ‘How ever did you seduce all those women?’

‘That’s an entirely different kind of dance.’ He was trying to copy what she’d just done.

Badly.

Had she found a chink in this spectacular man’s arsenal? Could he really not dance?

Wooden hips. Rhythm all wrong.

Oh, Lord, badly wrong.

‘Stop.’ She held up a hand. ‘Watch.’

She traced out a few easy steps. ‘See what I’m doing. Lift your heel and your hips will move on their own.’

‘What’s the step called?’ he asked, absolutely murdering whatever he thought it was.

‘It’s a cucaracha.’ Her brow knotted as she watched. She took his hands in hers. ‘Follow what I do,’ she said. ‘Yes, that’s much better.’ And didn’t notice he’d edged closer until he gathered her up, brought their hips almost together and executed a perfectly beautiful cucaracha.

She’d have extracted herself from his arms but he’d taken her by surprise and being able to touch and feel all that strength moving beneath her fingers was intoxicating.

‘Thisis how I had all that success with the ladies,’ he purred.

Not with this one.

‘That’s enough dancing,’ she said just as a slow, mellow number began.

‘Come now.’ He tucked her hand to his chest. ‘This was supposed to be our wedding day. At least grant me our first dance. You owe me that, surely.’

A sultry songstress was crooning about losing herself to love, that it felt like home, as Leo swirled her round the room.

Oh, the man was devious. He danced beautifully. Violetta couldn’t help herself, she started to enjoy it.

He twirled her out and back, and again, and this time as she danced back to him he turned her beneath his arm and then into a perfect dip. As she tipped backwards her hand flew up, grabbing his biceps in alarm, but he held her easily. She was perfectly safe, and a moment later she was upright again, being moved effortlessly round the room.

‘Ready to try another dip,la mia piccolo ballerina?’

His little ballerina.

She shouldn’t be so charmed but her giddy little ballerina heart skipped a beat. Italian spoken in that deep baritone was lethal.

So out she went, spinning beneath his arm and then back into a perfect dip. She laughed up at him, her hand resting lightly on his biceps this time, his other arm strong beneath her back.

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