The music quickens, and Leland sends me into a spin. The words stick in my throat as he catches me, pulling me closer than I’d typically allow a dance partner.
“He reminds me of someone I lost,” I reply quietly. “I hate that he does, but that person was close to me—and he hurt me deeply.”
Leland’s face hardens. “A former lover?”
“I had lovers before our betrothal, and I assume you did as well. I’d never question you on your past, and I trust that you’re committed to this arrangement, as I am.”
His breath escapes in a hiss. “My apologies. It’s different now, after I’ve kissed you. I feel less of myself when it comes to you.”
My heart sinks. My gift has already ruined what we might have been before we’re even married.
“I’ve worried about that,” I admit. “It affects each person differently. Some become possessive, while others hate me for what my gift did to them. It’s why I stopped allowing anyone to touch me.”
His cool eyes settle on me as the music fades. “I can learn to control the urges. I promise.”
“I hope so. I’ve never tried to work past my curse with another person.”
His lips press into a tight line. “You have to trust me for this to work, Genny. I can’t make our marriage succeed if you’re too scared to try.”
Then he turns on his heel, leaving my side as he cuts across the ballroom toward his sister. My breath comes in short spurts, my heart heavy with the realization that I will never be able to let myself be close to Leland—not with my curse looming over our marriage.
Astoria approaches, two glasses of sparkling wine in hand. “Here, Genny. Are you alright?”
“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I believe that’s the first time I’ve seen Prince Leland look anything but amicable.”
I nod. “My curse is taking some getting used to for him.”
She arches an eyebrow just as a young blueblood noble approaches and asks her to dance. Astoria looks at me, reluctant to leave if I still need her.
“Go. Have fun,” I say, knowing dancing isn’t exactly her idea of enjoyment. Still, she agrees, and he whisks her away. I’m about to find Mari when Kieran steps up beside me.
“May I have this dance?” he asks.
I should say no. I’m not as composed as I’d like to be, the edges of my emotions raw from my conversation with Leland.
But I don’t want to tell him no. I want to feel Kieran’s hands on me. I want to get lost in the music with him, if only for this one moment. If only to remember what we once had—and what we’ll never have again.
“Yes, of course,” I say as he places his bare hand on my back. I can feel the heat of him through the fabric. The warmth of his touch and the strength in the way he leads us across the ballroom are things I can never resist.
The music begins, and Kieran grips the fabric of my dress, pulling my body flush with his, forcing me to tilt my head up to meet his jade eyes.
He smells spicy and clean, and there’s a trace of stubble along his cheeks that I ache to touch, to feel the textures of him against my bare skin. But that’s impossible, even as I grow more desperate for it with every contact between us.
The ballroom is draped in deep purple fabric, creating private spaces in the alcoves. As we move, I see couples slipping away into those secluded corners. Yet whenever my eyes stray from Kieran, I feel an irresistible pull back to him, to his green eyes. The other dancers blur into a muted stream of color as everything else seems to melt away.
“You’re staring, Princess.” His voice is rough, as if he’s just as swept away by our closeness.
“I could say the same of you, Mr. Blackwell.”
His lips curve upward as he leans closer. “Twice in one night you’ve used my name. I never thought I’d enjoy hearing the sound of it spill from your lips.”
“But it’s not truly your name, Kieran.”
He flinches slightly and pulls back. “As I told you, Kieran died long ago.” His lips brush my hairline, and I shiver at his touch.
“Then why have you allowed me to call you Kieran?”
