Free His Bride for the Taking by Sandra Hyatt Page B

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 somethings 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