The ornate clock at the front of the hall stood with its gears in full display, letting her know that she still had time before midnight. But now curiosity burned through her as Leonardo’s words swam in her head. Had Saturnino intervened for her? If so, for what reason?
And why did she want the reason to be forher?
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” Saturnino coaxed.
Ravenna flicked her eyes back to meet his. Teasing, flirting, coy Saturnino had returned, leaving his sinister plans out of the banquet hall. She ought to be relieved, but panic flared deep in her belly. This Saturnino was hard to predict.
And infinitely more dangerous to her.
“I’m a terrible dancer,” she said honestly. “I’ll only embarrass you.”
“You could never,” Saturnino said. He clasped her hands and drew her close to him. His movements were slow, marked. Without taking his eyes off her, he murmured, “You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?”
Ravenna blinked; she’d forgotten all about Leonardo da Vinci. She glanced at him from over her shoulder, but the artist’s attention flickered from one guest to another, lingering on a handsome man who stood off to the side, leaning against one of the pillars. Leonardo gave Saturnino a polite bow, murmuring, “Not in the least,” before melting into the crowd.
Her gaze returned to Saturnino.
He was still only looking at her.
Ravenna was conscious of the other guests and dancers staring at her, at him, and the pronounced attention he lavished on her. Saturnino tugged Ravenna to where the other guests danced, his palm cool against the feverish warmth of hers. He glanced at her from over his shoulder, raising a sleek black brow in a silent question. As if to make sure she was all right.
She felt oddly lightheaded.
They joined the long line of dancers. Saturnino pulled her close until she was nearly pressed against the side of his lean chest—a scandalous distance and fodder for conversation for the numerous spectators surrounding them.
“I’ll guide you through the steps,” Saturnino whispered against her hair.
“There’s really no point,” Ravenna said. “I’m the world’s worst dancer. You could drag me across the hall, and it would look better than what I could manage.”
“Maybe,” Saturnino murmured. “But you’ve never done it with me, and I promise to take care of you.”
Her lips parted in surprise as the music swelled in a distracting rush all around her. His expression had turned thoughtful, as if he had discovered one of her many secrets, and it wasn’t one he had been expecting. When he took the first step, she followed, glancing down the long length of the dance floor, where the gentlemen were leading their ladies in gentle circles, their arms raised, palms facing those of their partners with only a whisper of space between them.
It was an elegant dance, measured and slow. The kind of dance that allowed for intimate conversation. Saturnino tightened his hold on her hand and whispered, “Right turn. Then left. I’ll spin you around afterward.”
Ravenna’s eyes flew to his. He winked at her. If he hadn’t been standing in front of her, she wouldn’t have believed it to be true. He had learned her secret, and instead of using it against her to humiliate her, Saturnino was guiding her through the motions, through every step, through all the turns.
He tipped his chin to the right, prompting her to make the turn.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, waiting for the next step.
“Left foot forward, then step back,” he whispered promptly, demonstrating the movement. A lock of his black hair fell across his smooth brow, and Ravenna repressed the urge to smooth it back where it belonged, tucked away from her ridiculous impulses.
Saturnino lowered his voice. The brush of his voice teased the wisps of her hair against her temples. “Have you received another message?”
Ravenna stiffened in his arms.
He looked down at her sharply, a fine line between his black brows. “You have.”
“That’s why you asked me to dance.” Disappointment bit her; she couldn’t keep its teeth out of the tone of her voice. “Couldn’t you have just pulled me aside to interrogate me?”
Saturnino wasn’t looking at her anymore, his eyes flicking around the room as if he were keeping watch. “Ravenna.”
“Why ask me to dance at all? Why hold me like this, why—” She broke off. Her throat felt narrow, like she couldn’t get enough air. She swallowed hard and tried again. “For a moment, I thought…”
His lashes lowered. “You thought what?”
