As they danced, he continued talking politics. Specifically, his rise through parliament, and the problems with the younger politicians who thought they knew everything. Who knew one song could last so long?
Finally, the music slowed and quieted, but then segued immediately into another melody. “By the time I was elected for my third term,” he said, giving her no opportunity to decline another dance.
Rafe appeared behind his shoulder and tapped it. “Mind if I cut in, Humphrey?”
Humphrey, that was his name.
Humphrey released her, took a step back, bowed slightly, then bowed again to Rafe. “Of course not, sir.” He moved aside.
Rafe stepped in front of her. His gaze swept the length of her beaded, ice-blue gown; his undisguised masculine approval warmed her. Gentle yet sure, he took her hand in his, placed his other hand at the curve of her waist. “Thank you,” she said, when what she really wanted to do was hug him in sheer gratitude.
“Dancing with Humphrey after being seated next to him for the last two hours seemed a little too much to have to put up with. Even for a woman who wants to marry Adam.”
“That almost sounds chivalrous. And definitely thoughtful.”
“Hmm. I suppose it was,” he said, sounding surprised. They danced a few steps. “Ironic, really, isn’t it?”
“What is?” She rested her left hand on the broad strength of his shoulder, felt the power beneath her touch.
“That tonight you really do have a headache,” he said as they began to waltz, “but don’t feel you can leave.”
She hadn’t thought she’d given it away, or that Rafe had been watching her closely enough to notice. “My penance, I guess. Though I have to admit I was wondering about the protocol for leaving.”
He grinned and said nothing further. They danced in silence, his movements altogether more fluid and easy than Humphrey’s as he led her around the room. When the band next stopped, he dropped his hand from her waist and shifted to stand beside her, keeping her right hand held in his. “This way,” he said. They were on the far side of the dance floor and he began leading her, not back to her seat, but in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?”
“You want to leave, don’t you?”
She hesitated. “I shouldn’t.”
He led her onward. “Why not? You’ve had a long day, and you’re jet-lagged.”
“Same as you.”
“Which is why I’m leaving.”
“Really?”
He stopped and turned to face her. “There are some things I don’t joke about. Besides, you have a headache. A real one this time.”
Leave her first official dinner early? Wouldn’t that be bad form? “You said yourself that I’d have to sit through these things till the bitter end.”
“You will have to stay. Once you become princess.”
“If.”
“If. Whatever. But now? Now you have a valid excuse. Now you’re under the radar, just. Now might be your only chance.”
She glanced at the head table.
“Adam won’t mind.” He read her thoughts, and mercifully didn’t add that Adam likely wouldn’t notice. They’d had a lovely but brief meeting this afternoon. He had shown her round some of the palace’s enormous manicured gardens, including the renowned labyrinth.
As they’d walked arm in arm in the sunshine, he had explained the gardeners’ efforts at conservation of his country’s native flora. He was knowledgeable and gentlemanly, and alert to her fatigue. It had been a relief to be in the company of someone easy to be with, not like Rafe, who always seemed to be watching her and whose presence filled Lexie with a strange tension.
She and Adam had parted to prepare for this evening. But throughout the meal, he had only once looked her way and had nodded—almost paternally—at her before returning to his conversation.
Rafe, on the other hand, had caught her out more than once looking at him.
“He asked me to keep an eye on you.”
She smiled. “What did you say?” She couldn’t imagine he would have been pleased to have his babysitting duties extended.
“I said yes.”
“Just yes?”
He smiled back, real warmth in his eyes. “Of course, just yes.”
“Liar.”
His smile widened. “Come on, Lexie.”
Escaping with Rafe held infinitely more appeal than staying. But it was his use of her name that swayed her. Reminded her that he was her friend. Because only her friends called her Lexie.
None of the staff seemed surprised to see them as they slipped through a kitchen the size of a house. She couldn’t suppress a gurgle of laughter as Rafe grasped her hand to lead her around counters and past the souschefs and kitchen hands, most of whom seemed to be shouting at each other.
“Rupert.” Rafe acknowledged the man who stood, arms folded, surveying the entire kitchen.
Rupert, impressive gray sideburns showing from beneath his chef’s hat, glanced at his watch. “You lasted well tonight, sir.”
“By the time I’m your age, I expect I’ll be able to last a whole evening.”
“I’m sure everyone looks forward to that day.”
“Everyone except me,” Rafe said on a smile, not breaking his stride.
“I take it you do this often?” Lexie asked.
“Since the very first state dinner I attended. Rupert was on dishes back then. He helped me find my way out of this maze.”
“Couldn’t we just have gone out the doors we came in?”
“Far less attention drawn to us this way. Too many people watch the doors.”
“It’s only because of my headache that I’m leaving. I have a valid reason. I don’t need to be sneaking about.” Although, oddly, from the moment she’d decided to leave, the headache had begun to diminish.
“So if I told you about a nightclub not too far away, where they play the most amazing music?”
“I wouldn’t be even remotely tempted.” Though she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to dance with Rafe. Truly dance. And to watch the way he moved. Not like their earlier formal waltz, which she now recognized as merely a part of his escape plan.
They passed through another door and stepped into an empty, dimly lit corridor. As the door swung shut behind them, the chaos and noise of the kitchen ceased. Silence swamped them. He stopped and turned to face her, blocking her way. “Liar,” he said in a whisper. “You’d be tempted.”
And suddenly she wasn’t sure what temptation he was referring to. The temptation of dancing or the temptation of him? The memory of the kiss that shouldn’t have happened came back to her, flooding her with warmth. And she remembered, too, the even earlier kiss. One that back then had hinted at things she’d only guessed at.
Lexie couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
Abruptly Rafe stepped back and turned to keep walking. Lexie clenched her fists at her side. She just needed to get away from here, away from him. She needed to spend time with Adam.
They continued in silence, along corridors, past opulent room after opulent room, climbed broad, sweeping staircases, till finally he stopped in front of a door she recognized as her own.
Lexie