‘You seem preoccupied.’
Remembering to smile for the sake of the watching guests, he conceded, ‘I am preoccupied.’
‘Is it anything I can help with? Have I made things awkward for you?’ she added as he huffed a short laugh.
‘You?’ he queried.
‘Okay, I get it. This is an act, and you’d prefer it if I said nothing at all.’
‘No. Please speak,’ he encouraged. ‘Conversation between us will reinforce the impression that we like each other.’
‘When nothing could be further from the truth?’ she suggested.
He knew better than to answer that. ‘Don’t overdo it,’ he warned as Sofia gave a cynical laugh. ‘A happy expression on your face is enough, though you could try to relax a little more.’
‘You make that so easy,’ she responded sarcastically as the orchestra segued into another popular Viennese melody. ‘At least the conductor thinks you’re enjoying yourself.’
‘My master of music can’t be expected to read my mind.’
They danced on until a question occurred to him. ‘Do you have enough material for your next article?’
Forgetting the act they were supposed to be playing, Sofia pulled back with a gasp of surprise. ‘I’m here because you invited me to the party.’
‘A necessary evil to avoid offending your brothers,’ he said bluntly.
‘How gracious you are,’ she murmured beneath her breath, growing stiff and unyielding in his arms.
He was pleased to see she managed to smile, as if there was nothing she would rather be doing than dancing with him. Sensibly, he maintained a distance between them, and throughout the dance there was an expression of enjoyment on his face. It wasn’t all hard work. Forced to bring Sofia close in order to avoid collisions on a packed dance floor meant intimate contact with the soft contours of her body was inevitable.
Sofia was a good dancer. Fit and supple, she moved instinctively to the music. The gown she had chosen to wear was of such a fine fabric it did little to conceal her form. Her hand was tiny in his, but her grip was firm. He had one hand lodged in the small of her back so he could feel her trembling. Careful not to adjust his fingers by as much as a millimetre, he took her around the floor. There would be no subtle messages between him and Sofia tonight.
‘That must have been torture for you,’ she observed when they finally stopped dancing.
‘I’ve known worse.’
‘Will you join me in the garden?’ she surprised him by asking as they approached the French doors.
She was looking across the room to where guests were spilling out onto the balcony to enjoy the still balmy evening. The romantic setting in a lovely garden, beneath a black velvet sky peppered with stars and lit by the light of a silvery moon, was surely unparalleled. And would therefore be completely wasted on a couple like them. ‘Why?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Why not?’ she countered. ‘How are we supposed to become effective team members if you and I remain at daggers drawn? And,’ she added, glancing around, ‘people are still watching us, and I think that walking outside for a breath of fresh air after dancing is the most natural thing to do.’
She was right in that a fragrant breeze was drifting in from the gardens, but he’d done his duty and felt no urge to do more.
‘Please,’ Sofia whispered, putting a hand on his arm. ‘I’d like the chance to start making things right between us.’
‘Another new approach?’ he suggested cynically.
Her cheeks flushed red, as she no doubt remembered them kissing earlier. ‘It’s important to break this deadlock between us,’ she insisted. ‘We’re going to be working together.’
‘To heal that gulf would take more than a moonlit stroll,’ he informed her, and with a curt bow he left Sofia to enter the garden on her own.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE MIGHT HAVE known Cesar would reject her olive branch. He’d made up his mind that she was guilty. Dancing together had been nothing but a necessary evil, as far as the Prince was concerned. While for her it had been thrilling. At least his guests had seemed convinced the trouble between them was over. Wasn’t that all that mattered?
Apart from the fact that he had left every part of her tingling with the memory of his touch?
She had the rest of the evening to fret over going too far. Trust took time to establish, and she’d waded in with her hobnailed boots. And was so quickly lost, she reflected with a glance at her brothers. The rift between them made her desperately sad. The article had done more harm than she could mend in a single night, and she longed to make things right.
