“That’s a lie,” Rachel declared, not angrily, but calmly. With her newfound understanding of Denise, Rachel felt stronger, like she see could see through their subtle as well as not-so-subtle abuse.
Pamela stepped forward, nudging Rachel out of the way. “Of course it’s the truth, dear. If you don’t remember it that way, then that’s your problem.” She simpered up at Tarin. “The girl was completely useless on the dance floor, Your Highness. It was amusing, but of course a mother doesn’t like to see her daughter in pain, so I stopped her from attending those classes.”
“She’s actually a beautiful dancer,” he announced, extricating his arm from Denise’s hold – and not even bothering to be subtle about it.
Denise and Pamela looked stunned, but recovered quickly. “Oh, don’t tease. You’ll only encourage her.”
Tarin moved pointedly away from Denise and reached for Rachel’s hand. “Come ‘Duteille’, we need to talk.”
Rachel hesitated, the name “Duteille” sparking memories from that afternoon in Paris. The man…the man trapped in a stone wall, cursed to watch the world pass him by!
“I’m not….” she stopped, then looked at her mother and sister. That’s when she laughed. Her mother and sister were literally standing between her and Tarin. They were forming a wall!
“Who is Duteille?” Denise asked. “Is that a nickname you gave to Rachel?” She leaned forward slightly, as if she was about to say something intimate. “She’s such a silly girl, isn’t she?” She preened for a moment. “If you’d care to dance, Your Highness, I would thoroughly enjoy being in your arms.”
At that particular moment, the music swelled and the familiar strains hit her. Rachel recognized the music, her eyes widening with surprise and…horror? Yes, a bit of horror, but also a rush of laughter. “No!” she gasped, her eyes widening and she slapped a hand over her mouth, an old habit that she’d thought she’d banished.
“Yes!” Tarin replied with a wicked smile filled with promise, stepping around Denise and taking Rachel’s hand. Rachel returned his smile, unaware of the hatred in Denise’s gaze or the malevolent look her mother shot at her. Rachel only had eyes for Tarin.
“I’m not good enough yet,” she whispered, hesitating as he led her on to the dance floor.
“You’re a natural,” he countered, and guided her into the crowd of dancers.
At that moment, the music swelled again and Rachel automatically put her hand on his shoulder, sliding her fingers into his. The opening sounds of the Tango surprised everyone and, because it was such a complicated dance, most of the crowd migrated off the dance floor.
Tarin moved forward and she stepped up, staring into his eyes, all the love she felt for him revealed to the occupants of the room. The smile that formed on her face was slow, but unconsciously sexy as she countered and pushed him backwards. Shifting right and left, forward and backwards, to the right, then to the left, spinning and charging, countering…reveling the way the chiffon of her dress floated around her legs. The music and the feel of his hands, the look in his eyes pushed away everything else. In Rachel’s mind, there was no audience, no bright lights overhead. In her mind, it was just the two of them and they were naked, in his suite. Every time he pushed, she eased back, but then pushed forward again, defending herself, not allowing him to control her. A moment later, he spun her around and “confusion” reigned, but he caught her in his arms, “confusion” controlled. Again and again, he lunged and she countered, moving to the sound of the music and the feel of his hands. It was just the two of them. Just her, feeling him against her body.
When the dance came to a crescendo, her heart was pounding and she couldn’t stop the love from shining in her eyes. Another spin and then…she fell into his arms in a deep dip, his strong body holding her carefully. Safely. He would always catch her, she thought.
The applause was almost deafening as Rachel came back to the present. Tarin pulled her straight, and kept his arm around her waist. The two of them acknowledged the crowd with a nod, and Tarin led her off the dance floor.
Several people stopped them, gushing that Rachel looked amazing out there and asked how she’d learned. “He taught me,” she explained to everyone who asked, referring to Tarin as she walked beside him, her hand tucked onto his elbow and his hand over hers, probably to ensure that she stayed there and didn’t pull away.
“Goodness, that was amazing!” Harper gushed, hugging Rachel. “I want to learn to dance like that!”
Tarin grinned. “Rachel is a gifted dancer. I’d be happy to teach you too since my big brother is completely inept.”
Amit glared at him.
But it was Rachel who gasped her outrage. “You will not!” she yelped, and probably revealed too much when she blushed. Tarin, the rogue, knew exactly what she meant and pulled her in for a hug. “I’ll only dance with you, my love.”
“You’d better,” she grumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder. “You’re mine.”
He stilled and looked down at her, his eyes unreadable as he said, “Come with me.”
Rachel didn’t have a chance to protest since he dragged her out of the ballroom. Because there were so many people everywhere, it was difficult to find a private space, but eventually, he found an empty room and pulled her inside, slamming the door behind them. “Am I?” he demanded.
Rachel was completely out of breath, not just from the frantic race out of the ballroom, but also from the heated look in
