Christmas in His Royal Bed / Rossellini's Revenge Affair. Yvonne Lindsay
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      “Dance with me,” he murmured softly.

      His tone and princely manner made it more of a command than a request, but she did her best to argue. “I don’t think Christmas music is exactly conducive to dancing,” she said, glancing about the room. Although there were several couples taking the floor.

      “Of course it is.”

      He tipped his head, as though paying extra attention to the slow strains of a holiday classic. Tightening his grasp, he tugged her behind him as he headed to the clear space at the center.

      “Besides, it’s my royal duty to set a good example for others, and we want everyone to enjoy themselves, don’t we? Isn’t that your goal, so that guests will feel more generous when it comes time to start writing checks?”

      She could tell from his expression that he was taking pleasure in teasing her, tossing her own ambition back at her in an attempt to get what he wanted. His lips twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he tried to keep his amusement in check.

      She might have continued protesting, but it was too late. They had reached a small empty stretch of the hardwood floor, and Nicolas had his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

      He splayed his fingers at the small of her back, holding her in place and guiding her as they swayed in small circles. And just as he’d predicted, others began to follow their lead and joined them, dancing to the holiday carols being piped through the building.

      This hadn’t been part of her plans for the evening, but it did seem to be having a positive effect. Alandra hoped Nicolas didn’t notice, or she might have to swallow her pride and tell him he’d been right.

      The song came to an end and they stopped moving, but instead of releasing her, he continued to hold her, staring down into her eyes until her mouth went dry and butterflies decided to take up tap dancing in her belly. Her chest was too tight to draw a full breath, which made her head begin to spin.

      She thought, for a brief moment, that he was going to kiss her. Right there, in the middle of a roomful of people.

      And she was chagrined to realize that her mouth had opened slightly, that she was both anticipating the kiss and looking forward to it. Yearning for it, even.

      With his gaze still locked on hers, he leaned in another inch, until she could feel his warm breath dancing across her skin.

      “I can’t kiss you here and now, the way I’d like, but I promise to rectify that before the night is through.” His voice was low and mesmerizing, washing over her.

      Dropping his hand from her waist, he smiled, gave a small bow and then turned and walked away, as though he hadn’t just set every nerve ending in her body on high alert.

      She watched him go, trying to regain control of her senses. And control of her limbs, which seemed incapable of movement, even as she struggled to get her brain to send the correct signals.

      It wasn’t until she noticed people beginning to stare that she shook off whatever spell had overtaken her, and was able to take step after measured step to the refreshment table. She poured herself a glass of punch and drank it down in nearly a single gulp.

      This was bad, so very bad. He was wearing her down, eroding the last of her defenses.

      She was very much afraid that she wouldn’t be able to evade him for much longer.

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