She would have known it was Damon by the way her senses reacted to his lazy drawl, even before she comprehended his actual words. “So this is the latest utilization of your advice book on capturing a husband, Lady Eleanor? What chapter does a romantic tryst belong in?”
Her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, she turned to find Damon leaning one broad shoulder against the door frame.
“Tsk, tsk, my lady,” he added, his tone lightly admonishing. “Whatever would your proper aunt say?”
Her aunt would likely be delighted, Eleanor reflected with frustration, although she could not possibly say so in front of the prince.
At a loss for words, she settled for giving Damon a quelling frown. But he went on just as if he were not interfering where he most certainly wasn't wanted. “Fortunately I discovered you first. You would not wish to be caught in a compromising position with Prince Lazzara, or you might be forced into a union you both might regret.”
Although the prince had stiffened, he recovered before Eleanor did. As if to shield her, he stepped toward Damon-then grimaced as his weight landed on his injured leg. Making use of his cane, he raised himself to his full height and tried to stare down his nose regally at Damon.
The effect was not quite as imposing as the prince wished, since he was not as tall as the Englishman. But there was no mistaking the tension in the air when he announced curtly, “I doubt I would regret such a union. It would not be a hardship, being wed to so lovely a lady.”
Damon's gaze shifted to the prince, looking him up and down. “Perhaps you weren't aware, your highness, that I have a prior claim to Lady Eleanor.”
Eleanor drew a sharp breath at that patent falsehood, while Lazzara's jaw hardened. “The signorina seems to disagree.”
“Indeed I do,” she said quickly. “Lord Wrexham has no claim to me whatsoever.” She fixed Damon with a censorious stare of her own. “Pray oblige us by taking your leave, my lord.”
He looked at her a long moment while Eleanor glowered at him. “Very well, love, but don't tarry out here too long. You don't want to give the wags cause for gossip.”
With that, Damon turned on his heel and exited the balcony, leaving Eleanor mortified and fuming.
Before she could think of what to say, however, the prince spoke first.
“Forgive me, I should not have taken advantage of you as I did,” he offered.
For some absurd reason, his apology only vexed her further. Damon would not have apologized for that limp effort at lovemaking, nor claimed to be taking advantage of her when she had willingly participated. But then the prince's manners clearly were far more gentlemanly. She should not take her ire out on him when the real culprit at arousing her temper was an interfering rogue.
Eleanor managed a smile. “There is nothing to forgive, your highness. But perhaps we should return to the ball before our absence is noted.”
Prince Lazzara nodded in agreement. “Yes. Please go ahead without me, however. I believe I will remain here for a while longer to enjoy the cooler temperatures.”
He still looked flushed, she noted with sympathy.
With a polite curtsy, Eleanor left him on the balcony and stepped through the doors, into the ballroom. Not to her surprise, Damon awaited her inside in the shadow of the potted palms. Far from resenting his presence, though, she welcomed it, since she was eager to do battle with him.
“What the devil do you mean, embarrassing me in that horrid fashion?” Eleanor hissed in a fierce undertone.
Damon seemed unrepentant. “Did you honestly expect me to stand idly by, knowing you were trying your hand at seducing him?”
“I was not attempting to seduce him.”
“But you were kissing him.”
“Even so, it is no concern of yours! You have no claim to me.”
“One could argue that point,” Damon drawled. “I feel a certain measure of protectiveness because of our past history, if nothing else. And you overestimate my powers of restraint if you think I can control my jealousy.”
Eleanor's scowl deepened. “You have no right to be jealous.”
“Then perhaps you should thank me for arousing his jealousy. What better way to kindle his desire for you?”
“I most certainly will not thank you,” Eleanor retorted. “I am not a bone for two dogs to fight over.”
She stood there glaring daggers at him. Yet Damon met her gaze without flinching, his own eyes full of heat and challenge.
Just then the strains of a waltz filled the ballroom. Before she could utter a word of protest, he stepped closer and took her in his arms.
“I may not be able to claim your hand in marriage, but I am claiming this dance.”
Even though Eleanor tried to pull back, Damon would not release her. The very air was crackling between them, but she had no choice but to allow him to sweep her past the palms and onto the ballroom floor among the other dancers.
“I wish you would go to Hades,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I will take your wishes under consideration, but you know I don't take well to being dismissed.”
Eleanor clamped her lips shut. Damon riled her to no end, which was doubtless his intent. Therefore, she resolved to deny him the satisfaction of getting any further under her skin.
When she refused to respond to his taunt, his own expression became milder. “Smile, love. You don't wish the company to see us at loggerheads.”
“I don't wish them to see us dancing together, either.”
“But short of causing a scene, you cannot stalk off the floor.”
“Your effrontery is boundless,” she grated, forgetting her resolve.
“I won't contradict you. For now I will simply relish the pleasure of dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“If you are trying to mollify me, you infuriating scoundrel, I promise you it will not work.”
For a moment she lapsed into simmering silence. Then growing more conscious of the countless pairs of eyes watching them, Eleanor focused her attention on the steps of the waltz and tried not to admire Damon's natural grace as he swung her to the rhythm of the lilting music.
“Come, admit it,” he said after a time. “You enjoy sparring with me.”
“You are laboring under a serious misapprehension, my lord,” Eleanor retorted, even though she knew her reply for a lie. There was nothing more exhilarating than sparring with Damon, except perhaps kissing him.
He drew back a little to survey her face. “I'll wager your conversations with your prince are not nearly as enjoyable as ours. You did not seem to be very enthusiastic earlier when you were relegated to the sidelines with him. In truth, you looked rather bored.”
“I was having a perfectly delightful time before you appeared.”
“Is that so?” Damon looked dubious. “I confess I don't understand his appeal. I would not have expected you to be attracted to that tame man-milliner.”
“Prince Lazzara is nothing of the kind,” Eleanor asserted firmly, even though she was beginning to have her own doubts.
“Then what do you see in him?”