Chapter 7

MICHELLE felt a rush of elation as Peter Owen tapped the shoulder of her dance partner. "My turn, dear boy," he drawled, one eyebrow wickedly cocked. "I claim old friendship."

She couldn't help laughing. More intimate friendship than old. "It's okay, Chris," she assured the guy she'd snapped up. "Thanks for dancing with me."

He grinned back at her. "A pleasure. Any time."

Which was what Alex should be telling her instead of choosing to smooch around the dance floor with his singer. Still, darling Peter could make up for that slight. She gave him a simmering look of seductive possibilities as he moved in on her, his long, supple body instantly capturing and projecting the beat of the music. He was definitely the sexiest dancer she'd ever known—both in bed and out of it.

"Deserted by your precious fiance, sweetie?" he mocked. "Not quite a duet with your duet singer?" she retorted.

"A promising prospect. But I suspect...more the marrying kind. Want to watch that, darling. Seemed to me Alex was quite hot for her."

"I'm holding the cards, Peter."

He sighed, his eyes running over her salaciously. "Pity it's the wrong hand. You know I appreciate you more than he does. Do you fancy a quickie in the bushes?"

She laughed. "Too much of a risk."

His eyes twinkled a tempting challenge. "Ah, but the delicious spice of danger..."

"Not worth it, Peter," she said, though her eyes flirted with the promised pleasure of it.

He performed a provocative bump and grind to push the idea further. "He's taken the delectable Gina outside with him. Tit for tat?"

"I doubt they've gone as far as the bushes."

He shoulder-shimmied around her, suggestively murmuring, "Probably headed for a bedroom."

"Alex is far too straitlaced for that."

"How boring for you! Nevertheless, he probably is heading for a bedroom. Gina wanted to check on her son, Marco. Apparently Isabella invited them to stay at the castle overnight."

"Old witch!" Anger surged. "She's trying to make trouble between me and Alex."

Peter exulted in stirring the pot. "No doubt he'll be leaning over the little boy's cot, all choked up by the sweet innocence of a sleeping babe, thinking about how it'll be with his first child..."

"Shut up, Peter!"

He grinned—the devil incarnate. "While we trip the light fantastic, darling."

Grabbing her hand, he led her into an intricate sequence of steps that took them right down the dance floor. He was so light and clever on his feet, it was exhilarating matching him, and Michelle couldn't help thinking how much she missed having this kind of fun. Of course, with Peter, nothing could be taken seriously, but that was his charm. Sheer fun with nothing else attached to it. Free fun.

They stopped at the stage end of the ballroom. Still holding her hand, Peter drew her towards a side exit, whispering in her ear, "Let's snatch a bit of memory lane before the King family noose is around your lovely neck."

It wasn't wise to go with him. But she did.

Alex knew he should return to the ballroom, if only for the sake of appearances. Michelle would have her nose out of joint at his prolonged absence. He didn't want any sly gossip arising from his exit with Gina. It certainly wasn't fair to have her reputation tainted in any way.

Yet he couldn't bring himself to rejoin the party, couldn't bear the thought of being forced into small talk. It would be easy enough to explain away his actions, but he didn't want to. He was deeply uncomfortable with the thought of skating over what he'd done with Gina. What he'd felt with her...

The restraint he'd imposed upon himself was still a physical pain.

Every muscle in his body seemed to be aching, wracked with a tension that hadn't been released. Best choice was to walk it off, he decided. He needed time alone to think anyway.

* * *

"You can't be wearing anything under that dress," Peter remarked slyly, dropping her hand to hang his arm around her waist and feel the unbroken line of fabric curving over her hipline with his usual sensual expertise.

"Stop it," Michelle chided, though she did nothing to halt the wandering hand from sliding down under her buttocks to check the lack of underwear.

It was typical of Peter's outrageous little liberties with women and she secretly enjoyed the sexual kick of feeding his lust for her. Besides, there was no one else in this courtyard. Most people who wanted to smoke or get some fresh air chose to go out to the loggia on the other side of the ballroom.

"Absolutely nothing," Peter declared after his cursory examination. "Which means you're all naked and ready for me."

"Hardly naked."

"Where it counts, sweetie. Where it counts." He led her around a hedge of thickly leafed and flowered hibiscus trees to a garden bench behind it. "Now how spicy is this? You can lean against the back of the bench. The hedge hides us to above our waists. You can watch over my shoulder for anyone coming out of the ballroom while we have a lovely little..."

"You really are incorrigible, Peter." But it was a titillating scenario. "Mmm...and weddings make me so randy."

"I don't need you for sex. Alex is very good at it," she protested, though she stopped where he had suggested, leaning against the back rest of the wooden bench, her arms casually spread to rest her hands along the top plank. The cooler air—or the excitement of the game—had hardened her nipples and she was very aware of their obvious thrust.

So was Peter who lightly fanned them with his palms as he seductively teased, "Nothing like a bit of stolen infidelity, is there?" He dropped his hands and started gathering up her skirt. "I bet you're all hot and wet for me."

"I don't think I should do this."

"Then you just stand there and chat to me. I'd like that. Quite a challenge operating on two levels." He grinned wickedly as he slid his hand between her bare thighs. "Don't know why you want to get saddled with Alex King. He's a terribly worthy person."