Where had she learned to dance?

Ramón had been coached almost before he could walk. His grandmother had thought dancing at least as important as any other form of movement. He could thus waltz without thinking. He’d expected to slow his steps to Jenny’s, to take care she wasn’t embarrassed, but he’d been on the dance floor less than ten seconds before he realized such precautions weren’t necessary. He took her into his arms in the waltz hold, and she melted into him as if she belonged.

The music swelled in an age-old, well-loved waltz and she was one with the music, one with him.

He’d almost forgotten how wonderful she felt.

He had to be formal, he told himself harshly. He needed to hold her at arm’s length-which was difficult when he was not holding her at arm’s length at all. He needed to be courteously friendly and he needed to thank her and say goodbye.

Only not yet. Not goodbye yet.

‘Where did you learn to dance?’ he managed, and it was a dumb thing to say to a woman after a three-month separation, but the tension eased a little and she almost smiled.

‘Dancing’s not reserved for royalty. My Papà was the best.’

This was better. There was small talk in this. ‘He should have met my grandmother.’

‘Yes,’ she said, and seemed to decide to let herself enjoy the music, the dance, the sensation of being held for a couple more circuits of the floor while the world watched. And then… ‘Ramón, why are you doing this?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Why did you ask me to dance…first?’

‘I wanted to thank you.’

‘You paid me, remember? It’s me who should be thanking. And the world is watching. For you to ask me for the first dance…’

‘I believe it’s the last dance,’ he said, and the leaden feeling settled back around his heart as the truth flooded back. Holding her was an illusion, a fleeting taste of what could have been, and all at once the pain was unbearable. ‘I’ve wanted to hold you for three months,’ he said simply, and it was as if the words were there and had to be said, whether he willed them or not. ‘Jenny, maybe even saying it is unwise but, wise or not, I’ve missed you every single night.’ He hesitated, then somehow struggled back to lightness, forcing the leaden ache to stay clear of his voice. He couldn’t pass his regret onto her. He had to say goodbye-as friends. ‘Do you realize how much work there is in being a Crown Prince?’

‘I have no idea,’ she said faintly. ‘I guess…there’s speeches to make. Ribbons to cut. That sort of thing.’

‘Not so much of that sort of thing.’ His hand tightened on her waist, tugging her closer. Wanting her closer. Sense decreed he had to let her go, but still not yet. ‘I haven’t even been official Crown Prince until today,’ he said, fighting to make his voice sound normal. ‘I’ve not even been qualified as a ribbon-cutter until now. I’ve been a prince in training. Nothing more. Nothing less. But I have been practising my waltzing. My Aunt Sofía’s seen to that. So let’s see if we can make the ghosts of your Papà and my Grand-mère proud.’

She smiled. He whirled her around in his arms and she felt like thistledown, he thought. She felt like Jenny.

He had to let her go.

He didn’t feel like a prince, she thought as he held her close and their bodies moved as one. If she closed her eyes he felt like Ramón. Just Ramón, pure and simple. The man who’d stolen her heart.

It was impossible, he’d said. Of course it was. She’d known it for three months and nothing had changed.

The world was watching. She had to keep it light.

‘So it’s been practising speeches and waltzing,’ she ventured at last. ‘While we’ve been braving the Horn.’

‘That and getting leggings to fit,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘Bloody things, leggings. I’d almost prefer the Horn.’

‘But leggings are so sexy.’

‘Sexy isn’t leggings,’ he said. His eyes were on her and she could see exactly what he was thinking.

‘Don’t,’ she whispered, feeling her colour rising. Every eye in the room was on them.

‘I’ve missed you for three long months,’ he said, lightness disappearing. He sounded goaded almost past breaking point.

‘Ramón, we had two weeks,’ she managed. ‘It didn’t mean anything.’

He stopped dancing. Others had taken to the floor now, but they were on the edge of the dance floor. Ramón and Jenny had central position and they were still being watched.

‘Are you saying what we had didn’t mean anything to you?’ he asked, his voice sounding suddenly calm, almost distant.

‘Of course it did,’ she said, blushing furiously. ‘At the time. Ramón, please, can we keep dancing? I don’t belong here.’

‘Neither do I,’ he said grimly, and he took her in his arms again and slipped back into the waltz. ‘I should be leaving for Bangladesh right now. My team’s left without me for the first time in years.’

‘Speeches are important,’ she said cautiously.

‘They are.’ The laughter and passion had completely disappeared now, leaving his voice sounding flat and defeated. ‘Believe it or not, this country needs me. It’s been bled dry by my grandfather and my uncle. If I walk away it’ll continue to be bled dry by a government that’s as corrupt as it is inept. It’s not all ribbon-cutting.’

‘It’s your life,’ she said simply. ‘You’re bred to it and you shouldn’t be dancing with me.’

‘I shouldn’t be doing lots of things, and I’ll not be told who I should be dancing with tonight. I know. This can only be for now but I will dance with you tonight.’

The music was coming to an end. The outside edge of the dance floor was crowded, but the dancers were keeping clear of the Crown Prince and his partner. A space was left so that, as soon as the dance ended, Ramón could return to his royal table.

Waiting for him were the crowned heads of Europe. Men and women who were watching Jenny as if they knew instinctively she had no place among them.

‘You have danced with me,’ Jenny said softly, disengaging her hands before he realized what she intended. ‘I thank you for the honour.’

‘There’s no need to thank me.’

‘Oh, but there is,’ she said, breathless. ‘The clothes, this moment, you. I’ll remember it all my life.’

She looked up into his eyes and felt an almost overwhelming urge to reach up and kiss him, just a kiss, just a moment, to take a tiny taste of him to keep for ever. But the eyes of the world were on her. Ramón was a prince and his world was waiting.

‘I believe there are women waiting to dance with the Crown Prince of Cepheus,’ she murmured. ‘We both need to move on, so thank you, Ramón. Thank you for the fantasy.’

‘Thank you, Gianetta,’ he murmured, and he raised his hand and touched her cheek, a feather touch that seemed a gesture of regret and loss and farewell. ‘It’s been my honour. I will see you before you leave.’

‘Do you think…?’

‘It’s unwise? Of course it’s unwise,’ he finished for her. ‘But it’s tonight only. Tomorrow I need to be wise for the rest of my life.’

‘Then maybe tomorrow needs to start now,’ she said unsteadily and she managed a smile, her very best peasant to royalty smile, and turned and walked away. Leaving the Crown Prince of Cepheus looking after her.

What had he said? ‘We can’t take it further…’

Of course they couldn’t. What was she thinking of? But still she felt like sobbing. What was she doing here? Why had she ever come? She’d slip away like Gordon, she thought, just as soon as the next dance started, just as soon as everyone stopped watching her.

But someone was stepping into her path. Another prince? The man was dark and bold and so good-looking that if she hadn’t met Ramón first she would have been stunned. As it was, she hardly saw him.

‘May I request the honour of this dance?’ he said, and it wasn’t a question. His hand took hers before she could argue, autocratic as Ramón. Where did they learn this? Autocracy school?

It seemed no wasn’t a word in these men’s vocabularies. She was being led back onto the dance floor, like it or not.

‘What’s needed is a bit of spine,’ she told herself and somehow she tilted her chin, fixed her smile and accepted partner after partner.

Most of these men were seriously good dancers. Many of these men were seriously good-looking men. She thought briefly of Cathy back in Seaport-‘Jenny, get a life!’ If Cathy could see her now…

The thought was almost enough to make her smile real. If only she wasn’t so aware of the eyes watching her. If only she wasn’t so aware of Ramón’s presence. He was dancing with beautiful woman after beautiful woman, and a couple of truly impressive royal matriarchs as well.

He was smiling into each of his partner’s eyes, and each one of them was responding exactly the same.

They melted.

Why would they not? Anyone would melt in Ramón’s arms.

And suddenly, inexplicably, she was thinking of Matty, of her little son, and she wondered what she was doing here. This strange creature in fancy clothes had nothing to do with who she really was, and all at once what she was doing seemed a betrayal.

‘It’s okay,’ she told herself, feeling suddenly desperate. ‘This is simply an unbelievable moment out of my life. After tonight I’ll return to being who I truly am. This is for one night only,’ she promised Matty. ‘One night and then I’m back where I belong.’

Her partner was holding her closer than was appropriate. Sadly for him, she was so caught up in her thoughts she hardly noticed.

Ramón was dancing so close that she could almost reach out and touch him. He whirled his partner round, his gaze caught hers and he smiled, and her partner had no chance at all.

That smile was so dangerous. That smile sucked you in.

‘So who are your parents?’ her partner asked, and she had to blink a few times to try and get her world moving again.