Oh, yes. Heaven help her. The sparks were still there between them, running along her nerve endings, over her skin, flaring inside her. Eleanor couldn't believe how powerful, how searing they were.
Unable to look away from the dark intensity of Damon's gaze, she swallowed mutely.
“Do you feel those same sparks with your prince?” he prodded.
She had only one answer to give: No. Damon still sparked a fire inside her that she had never felt with any other man, including Prince Lazzara. Damn him.
Eleanor abruptly gave herself a fierce mental shake. Damon was weaving the exact same spell over her as he had two years ago, and like a fool, she was allowing it, despite all the pain he had caused her then.
With effort, she rose unsteadily to her feet, ignoring how weak her knees were. It was dismaying- appalling even-to find herself just as attracted to her former betrothed as she'd once been. It was galling, her inability to resist Damon. And it was frustrating in the extreme, knowing he had deliberately kissed her to prove a point-that she still wanted him and that her new suitor couldn't compare to him in terms of passion.
Her ire rose along with her dismay, but Eleanor clamped it down, knowing she would get further with Damon if she remained cool and composed.
“Lord Wrexham, you may take your leave now,” she announced, proud that her voice sounded almost even. “You have outstayed your welcome.”
When he didn't respond at once but merely sat there staring up at her, as if he too had been rendered spellbound by their kiss, Eleanor turned toward the bellpull to ring for the butler. But Peters miraculously appeared in the doorway, as if knowing she needed him.
“Lord Wrexham wishes to leave, Peters,” she said in relief. “But he is having difficulty finding the front entrance on his own. Will you please show him out?”
“Very well, my lady. But you have another visitor. Prince Lazzara has called.”
Regularly permit him to make a show of gallantry and manly strength. He will be happy to preen his feathers for your admiration. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…
Eleanor muttered a silent oath. This was all she needed, having the prince call a half hour earlier than expected, just when Damon had been kissing her witless. Thank heaven his highness hadn't arrived two minutes sooner.
“Do you wish to receive him here in the morning parlor, my lady?” the butler asked.
“Yes, Peters. Please ask Prince Lazzara to join me here.”
When the illustrious servant exited to follow her orders, Eleanor distractedly raised her hands to her hair to make certain her curls weren't too disheveled. No doubt she looked like a wanton with her cheeks flushed and her mouth wet and swollen from Damon's kisses.
And the culprit showed no signs of remorse, she realized when she sent him a resentful glance. Damon lounged back on the sofa, looking comfortably settled, evidently prepared to remain there for the duration of the prince's visit.
“This should be priceless,” Damon murmured with obvious enjoyment, “watching you work your newfound wiles on Lazzara.”
Eleanor had no time to remonstrate, however, before her second handsome caller of the morning appeared.
“I beg a million pardons for my early arrival, Donna Eleanora,” the prince said as he bowed gallantly over her hand and then kissed her fingers. “It is my great hope that you will forgive me. I was eager to see you again and to begin our outing. And as they say in your language, the bird who is early catches the worm. The shops are waiting for your patronage.”
Eleanor managed a smile. “Certainly I will forgive you, your highness. I am eager to begin as well.”
Lazzara's brow furrowed when Damon caught his attention by rising from the sofa. “Ah, I did not realize you had another caller.”
“His lordship was just leaving,” she said hastily.
But Damon offered her a bland smile. “In truth, I am in no hurry. What is this outing you speak of, your highness?”
Prince Lazzara replied in a rather indulgent tone, “I mean to escort Donna Eleanora shopping at the Pantheon Bazaar on Oxford Street. She wishes to search for a gift for the birthday of her aunt. And I will be intrigued to see a bazaar. We have no such things in my country, merely markets and shops.”
“How gallant of you, your highness,” Damon said mildly. “Lady Eleanor must be impressed by your magnanimity.”
The prince narrowed his gaze, as if uncertain whether he was being roasted.
Eleanor hastened to intervene. “I am exceedingly impressed-and appreciative that Don Antonio is willing to give so generously of his time and attention.”
“Would it inconvenience you greatly if I tagged along, your highness?” Damon asked. “My valet has been after me to show better style in my appearance and to take an interest in the fashions that have come into vogue during my absence from London.”
When the prince hesitated, obviously debating how discourteous it would be to refuse the English nobleman's request, Eleanor answered for him, alarmed at the notion of Damon accompanying them. “Surely, Lord Wrexham, you have better things to do with your own time.”
“Not at the moment. I can think of nothing more enjoyable than assisting a beautiful lady to achieve her heart's desire.”
At the mischief glittering in his eyes, Eleanor pressed her lips together. Just now her heart's desire was to be rid of Damon. But he was the same wicked rogue he had always been. She should know better than to expect him to observe proper rules of etiquette.
She also knew better than to fight him overtly. He was not above using his formidable powers of persuasion to gain whatever he wanted, but conducting a battle of wills in front of the prince would not help her win Lazzara's admiration. Thus, she left it to his highness to give his approval or not.
“You may ride with us in my barouche, my lord,” he said with evident reluctance.
“You are all kindness, sir.” Damon turned to Eleanor. “Do you mean to leave at once?”
“I must fetch my pelisse and reticule and alert my abigail that we are leaving sooner than expected.” For propriety's sake, her lady's maid would attend her during her shopping expedition with the prince.
“Then why don't you proceed? I will keep his highness entertained in your absence,” Damon asserted.
Entertained? That possibility worried her exceedingly, Eleanor thought, experiencing a fierce urge to tell Damon to go to the devil. He was clearly amused by her struggle to hold her tongue.
Annoyed that she amused him, she smiled graciously at Don Antonio and said aloud, “If you will excuse me for a moment, your highness…?”
“Naturally, mia signorina.”
Yet Eleanor felt a strong measure of trepidation when she left the parlor and went upstairs in search of her maid, Jenny. She didn't particularly trust Damon alone with the prince. Not after his gibes about her using Fanny's book to attract her royal suitor.
The remembrance made her want to squirm. Yet who was he to judge her attempts at romance? Eleanor muttered to herself, still piqued that she was required to defend her actions to Damon.
Somehow he had known that the sparks were missing from her current courtship. She felt a physical attraction to Prince Lazzara, true, but nothing whatso ever like what she had felt for Damon. At least not yet. Then again, it was still early in their courtship. She hadn't had much opportunity to apply Fanny's sage advice.
She meant to remedy that very shortly. She intended to rouse Lazzara's ardor-and increase her own ardor for him at the same time.
It would be far more difficult with her former betrothed underfoot, but she would manage, Eleanor vowed. Moreover, she reminded herself with a determined surge of optimism, wooing another nobleman should go a long way in helping her crush her continued foolish captivation with the provoking rake who had once meant so much to her.
Keeping his hands clasped over his lap as he settled again on the sofa, Damon crossed one booted leg over the other and surreptitiously arranged his breeches to hide his swollen arousal. Kissing Elle had left him woefully hot and painfully hard.
A rather unseemly state, given that he was face-to-face now with her royal courtier.
Damon was glad to have this opportunity, however. All his instincts shouted that Lazzara wasn't the right match for Eleanor. She was not precisely gullible where men were concerned, but she genuinely liked most people. As a result, she would be too willing to overlook Lazzara's faults and fail to examine his character closely enough in favor of his more superficial qualities of charm and physical appeal.
Especially since she was set on using that damned advice primer to help her win his affection.