The Trouble With Princesses by Tracy Anne Warren Page A

little extra confidence.
    “And may I say the same of you,” she replied.
    Selkirk’s eyes widened momentarily; then he laughed with clear good humor.
    She smiled and accepted his arm so he could escort her onto the dance floor. As they strolled deeper into the ballroom, she glanced around in search of Rupert. But for the first time in the past two weeks, he was nowhere to be seen.
    Was he even there? He hadn’t accompanied her, Emma, and Nick in the family coach tonight. And rather than join them for dinner, he’d sent word through his valet that he had a prior engagement and would see them later.
    How much later? And what was he doing?
    Odd as it might seem, she wondered if he was giving her some private time to make her decision. Although tonight’s ball was hardly private, surrounded as she was by a crush of people who were all wildly determined to make merry.
    But she’d had no more chance to consider what she would tell Rupert when she saw him, as Selkirk drew her into the dance. And maybe that was Rupert’s ultimate goal. To lull her into a false complacency where she imagined she still had a choice.
    What worried her most was wondering if she really wanted one.
    Selkirk was an excellent dancer and soon her mind was pleasantly preoccupied. By the end of the set, she was slightly out of breath from the lively movements of a contra dance, her cheeks flushed and moist with an invisible sheen of perspiration.
    “Warm?” he inquired, as they left the floor, arm in arm.
    “A bit.” She opened her silk fan and waved it over her heated skin.
    “I supposed I should return you to your friends, but perhaps you would enjoy a few minutes in the garden first?”
    His offer did sound lovely, the cool night air and open spaces beckoning just beyond the glass doors of the ballroom.
    A glance across the room showed her that Emma and Nick were standing together, his head bent attentively over hers as they talked and laughed. Many frowned on the pair’s unfashionable habit of living in each other’s pockets—including Rupert, who thought displays of affection should be private.
    But Ariadne found her friends’ devotion charming. More couples should be so obviously in love.
    “Yes,” she told Selkirk, meeting his dark gaze. “A breath of fresh air would be most welcome.”
    The night was warm, yet still felt cooler than the packed ballroom. She drew in a deep lungful of air, relishing the subtle fragrance of jasmine and roses dancing on the slight breeze. A few crickets sang a happy tune, while fireflies winked in little bursts of light that briefly illuminated the dark garden beyond.
    She let Selkirk lead her a few yards along the wide stone terrace, the noise from the party growing dimmer with each step they took. Just as she was about to call a halt to their wandering, he stopped.
    “It’s a lovely night,” she said, gazing at a white marble statue that stood out like a pale ghost in the darkness.
    “It is,” he agreed in a soft voice. “But nowhere near as lovely as you.”
    Yesterday she would have been glad to find herself alone and in a secluded location with Lord Selkirk. He was handsome and interesting and sophisticated, everything she could want in a potential lover. Yet now that she was with him, here in this spot where it would be so easy to let him kiss her, all she could think about was Rupert.
    Rupert’s voice.
    Rupert’s mouth brushing against hers.
    Rupert asking to share her bed.
    “We should be returning,” she said abruptly, starting to go back the way they had come.
    Before she could do so, Selkirk took her hand, holding her in place.
    “Not yet,” he said, his voice deep and lyrical, yet containing none of the whiskied rhythm of his rival’s.
    And then he was kissing her, his touch practiced and urbane with none of the hesitation from which some of her other kissing partners had suffered. He was an excellent kisser, his skills in that area as impressive as his skills on the dance