“No, no,” Rowan said. “Because I must tell you that you are not paying close enough attention. If you were, I wager you would not be as calm.”
“What on earth are you going on…”
Rowan simply turned him around before he could finish his sentence, and that is when he saw her.
She was on the dance floor.
With another man. Was that Lord Ashford?
The sight immediately made his blood boil. They kept a distance as they danced, but even having him in her immediate vicinity was enough to send him spiraling.
Hewouldkill him.
“My, my,” Rowan murmured beside him, his tone entirely too amused. “Not so unbothered now, are you? Look at that, another man dancing with the lady you called your beloved.”
Simon’s grip tightened around his glass so hard it might have shattered right there.
“Well then,” Rowan seemed to be adding fuel to the fire now, “are you not going to do anything about it?”
Simon considered it for a moment. His instinct was tokillhim, but since that would cause too much of a scene, he decided on the second-best thing instead.
“Yes, I am.”
“Do not break any bones,” Rowan smirked.
“Oh, heavens no,” Simon replied in a dry tone, “I am merely ensuring my wife is not put in an uncomfortable position. Excuse me.”
He did not know what Rowan said in response to that. He couldn’t care less about it. As he made his way over to the dance floor, his mind was singularly focused on her. All that mattered was that he had to takeheraway.
Rachel had been doingperfectlyfine. Lord Ashford was charming, the dance was pleasant, and though she was still mildly irritated by Simon’s absence, she had chosen to push it aside.
That is, until she felt a shift in the air. She did not need to turn to know who it was.
Simon.
Even Lord Ashford hesitated mid-step, his gaze flickering over her shoulder, his hold on her loosening just slightly.
Without hesitation, without care for the dozens of curious gazes now fixed upon them, Simon stepped onto the dance floor and then between them as though he was staking a claim. He caught her wrist, his fingers warm against her bare skin as he pulled her out of Lord Ashford’s grasp.
“Your Grace…” Lord Ashford began, suddenly sounding more nervous than Rachel had ever heard him.
Simon didn’t evenlookat him, as though he found him unworthy of any sort of proper acknowledgement.
“She isdonedancing,” he said simply, as though it was a fact that he had the authority to decide.
There was a stir in the crowd around them. People had noticed the rather rude interruption and whispered amongst themselves. In most circumstances, such an interruption would have made her upset or even embarrassed.
But this time, she seemed to be having the exact opposite reaction.
This felt….exciting.
He placed one hand at her wrist, and the other at her waist—his fingers splaying possessively over the fabric of her gown.
“Simon,” she started to say.
“We are leaving,” he announced, tugging at her now and pulling her along with him.
“Do I get a say in the matter at all?” she asked as he led her outside.
