Because We Belong

leave you unprepared for any event where you might question yourself.”

She gave a shuddering gasp. He hadn’t said it cockily. He’d just stated it as an established fact. Damn him. He’d always read her like a book. What he’d said was true, of course. She’d recognized his taste in the dress. Her thoughts had immediately leapt to him when she’d read the message. Some part of her had realized the perfection of the gift suggested an intimate knowledge of her body . . . her person. But it was more than that. It struck her heavily for the first time that her actions for the past few weeks were far from being that of a person who had given up on her lover. She was staying with his grandparents in his childhood home and she had spent a great deal of time and effort on following through on what she believed would be his wishes for Noble Enterprises. Hadn’t she hungrily eaten up the sights of his youth during her tour of Belford Hall, imagined him as a child, that distrustful, withdrawn boy slowly coming out of his shell, pictured him as a man filling even the most grand of the rooms with his bold presence?

If the fact that she’d agreed to sleep in his bed at the penthouse didn’t prove his point, she didn’t know what did. She hadn’t entirely given up hope.

God, she was a fool.

Unwilling—and unable—to see the fierce pain in his eyes anymore, she turned and fled the room.

* * *

She thought maybe she’d never smiled more, and certainly never so unnaturally, when she went down to the Anniversary Ball with Gerard. It somehow seemed like a personal mission to show that she could hold her own in these circumstances.

The party was in full swing by the time Gerard escorted her downstairs, a small orchestra filling the house with music. Even through her shock and disquietude, Francesca wasn’t immune to the beauty of the transformed ballroom. James and Anne certainly knew how to throw a “do,” as Anne had called it. The already beautiful, white, wood-paneled room with enormous fireplace had been transformed into an ice palace. Round tables that seated eight were set up around the periphery of the large space, each of them with a fantastic, lit “ice” chandelier hovering above it, all of them unique and exquisitely beautiful. An elaborate, crystal candlelit bar was at one end of the room, a buffet table on the opposite would serve a late dinner in a few hours. James and Anne were just finishing their solo anniversary dance to kick off the ball when she walked in on Gerard’s arm. Other couples were starting to join them on the dance floor.

“Shall we?” Gerard asked, nodding toward the dance floor.

“I’d love to,” she said a little too brightly. She could tell from his quirked brows that he was concerned by her brittle animation. When he tried to bring up the topic of Ian’s return while they danced, she made an abrupt observation on the beauty of the room. He seemed to take her hint, and kept things light for the remainder of the dance.

At some point, she wondered if Ian had known precisely what he was doing by sending her this backless dress. She sensed his gaze on her bare skin as Gerard and she circled on the dance floor. She ignored the sensation, continuing her conversation with Gerard with a fierce determination that hardly matched their lighthearted topic.

She spotted Lucien and Elise sitting at a table when Gerard led her off the dance floor. Relieved to see Ian wasn’t there, she went to join them while Gerard went to find a waiter for drinks. She swore she wasn’t looking for Ian in the crowded ballroom, but her gaze immediately found his singular form on the dance floor, his grandmother in his arms.

“No one can make Anne beam the way Ian can,” Gerard observed with a smile as he arrived at the table, two waiters on his heels, one waiter carrying a bucket, champagne, and four glasses, another a platter of hors d’oeuvres and iced caviar. Her brow furrowed. Had there been a note of bitter envy in his tone? She wasn’t entirely surprised. Only Ian could be so rude as to leave his grandparents worried and anxious for half a year, only to return and have them thrown in an ecstasy of happiness at the sight of him. Besides, it wasn’t as if what Gerard said wasn’t completely true, Francesca thought as she gave a reluctant sideways glance at Ian’s striking profile. The countess looked especially diminutive next to his tall form, both of them moving gracefully on the dance floor. She’d never seen Anne look so happy, so relieved, and she stared up at her grandson, sometimes solemn as they conversed, sometimes smiling and laughing. No, she understood Anne’s relief, empathized with it. Anne had lost her only daughter this year. She was likely feeling light-headed with relief to know her only grandson was alive and healthy.

You’re every bit as relieved. In fact, part of you is euphoric at the evidence of his well- being.

It was a strange combination, she realized. Light-headed relief and focused fury.

She plunged into conversation with the others. Lucien raised his eyebrows when she allowed Gerard to pour her a third glass of champagne, but she was immune to his concern. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling at that moment, so how could anyone else accurately interpret her mood?

Someone touched her lightly on the shoulder. She turned to find James standing there, straight and handsome in his tuxedo.

“May I have this dance?” he asked her.

“I’d love to,” Francesca said, standing.

“Holding steady?” James murmured quietly once they’d spun together on the dance floor for a moment.

“All things considered, I think I’m doing very well.” She met his kind stare and smiled. “I didn’t get to tell you congratulations, earlier. Your and Anne’s dedication to each other is wonderful to see.”

His gray eyebrows went up. “I’m sensing an underlying message there.”

She laughed, but averted her gaze. “What? Like that without a true dedication to your partner, there can be no trust? No future?”

“That’s true,” James said. “But people show their dedication in different ways. Anne’s and my commitment hasn’t always looked like it does today. I’m sure she questioned my dedication to her when I was in my twenties and thirties, traveling as much as I did, attending to business. I’m sure there was a time in Anne’s life she had trouble recognizing that as devotion on my part to our marriage, but that’s how I always saw it.”

“Now I’m sensing an underlying message,” she said wryly.

James smiled. “Did you listen to Ian? Did he tell you where he’s been?”

“No. And I mean no offense, James. I know he’s your grandson, and you’re bound to feel differently about it than his jilted fiancee. No,” she interjected when James started to protest. “That’s what I am. No reason to sugarcoat it.” She paused as the music swelled making talking difficult. “My point is,” she said as the music quieted, “I’m not sure I want to know what he found so important to do that he couldn’t pick up a phone and relieve your worry. Anne’s. Mine. It was incredibly selfish on his part.”

“I’m not trying to change your understanding of the situation, Francesca. Just—”

“Broaden it a little?” she finished for him, giving him a small smile.

“You can’t blame an old man for trying,” he said as the music came to an end.

“I blame you for nothing but loving your grandson,” she replied honestly. James leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek as they came to a halt. As he released her hand, another one took it. She looked over her shoulder and saw Ian standing there, one arm still around Anne’s waist.

“May I?” he asked quietly.

The split second it took her to decide seemed to drag on forever. Without verbally acquiescing, she just went into his arms, her posture stiff. She hardly heard the music over her pounding heart. For several seconds, neither of them spoke as she told herself not to focus on the sensation of being in his arms, and did nothing but.

“How long do you plan to stay?” she asked without looking at him and tried not to breathe too deeply, lest she inhale his scent.

“I haven’t decided.”

She dared to look into his face. His blue eyes drew her like a magnet. “Will you be going back to wherever you were before?”

“Eventually. I still have unfinished business there.”

His hand moved ever so slightly at her waist, skimming the bare skin of her back.

“You look incredibly beautiful,” he said.

“If you still have unfinished business,” she said crisply, ignoring his compliment—or trying to, “I’m surprised