The gathered guests quieted and turned to face them.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the great city of Savannah, it’s my pleasure to welcome you to our celebration of your very own local hero, Lieutenant Thompson.”
Polite applause rang through the room and the governor pulledout a velvet box.
Oh no.
“With unmatched bravery, he rescued Miss Warstein from the clutches of the most feared pirate on the seas, Captain Thorne. In honor of his valor, I present to him...”
The box flipped open and the governor swiveled so everyone gathered could catch a glimpse.
“A badge of merit.”
Christian cringed as another round of clapping reverberated through him.
“And . . .”
Goodness, could it get any worse?
It could.
“I’d like to call up the dear Miss Warstein to have the honor of pinning it.”
He raised his eyes to the gilded molding. And when he looked down, there she was. Feet away. Glaring at him.
He bowed. “Miss Warstein.”
She curtsied. “Lieutenant.”
Governor Milledge, oblivious to the tension between them, lifted the fabric heart and handed it to her.
She stared at it. Probably thinking the same thing Christian was. He didn’t deserve it. Not even close. Stepping closer, she flashed him a smile so brilliant, he blinked. But the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. God, he wished it were real.
Her hand stretched between them and his pulse quickened. Slight fingers brushed against his jacket and she slipped one hand beneath it. Right over his racing heart.
“I’m honored, Lieutenant. If not for your actions, I wouldn’t be here.”
A double-sided statement if he’d ever heard one.
She stepped away and left the badge hanging below his collar.
“Splendid.” Governor Milledge clapped his hands and a waltz began. “As our guests of honor, please do us the favor of opening the dance floor.”
Christian half expected her to shun him in front of everyone. But she was a perfect society lady and took his hand when he proffered it. Her face had gone blank, but her fingers trembled in his.
Warmth spread up his arm as he led her out to the floor. Every minute. Every day. He’d thought of her. Dreamed of her. Couldn’t stop rehearsing what he’d say to her. And now, with her in front of him, his throat closed.
When he breathed in, her lemon scent filled his nose. Memory slammed into him. Her in his cabin, touching him so boldly. And in the sea, taking charge of—he shifted and pulled her ever so closer, hoping no one would notice his erection.
Slipping his hand behind her back, he began the dance. She stared at his chest but followed his lead perfectly. Candlelight flickered across her hair, making it shimmer with every movement. Other couples joined them and as they twirled around the room, he noticed the stares. Stares of envy. Jealousy. The women in the room who so often vied for his attention were not happy.
Her friend in the yellow clasped her hands over her heart with a romantic smile on her face and he snorted. She had the wrong impression.
Miss Warstein glanced up at him and he steered them toward the doors to the verandah. She noticed and, in a flash, took the lead from him and expertly turned them away.
He raised a brow and found his voice. “Afraid of being alone with me?”
“Whatever you want to say can be said here.”
