“Because if we’re going to sneak into a cold, empty room hidden behind a tapestry without looking incredibly suspicious…” No recognition lit his eyes. His mouth remained a hard, unconvinced line. Was he really so oblivious? Wren felt her face heating beneath her mask. “Do you want me to spell it out for you?”

“No, I understand.” With a bow she thought was a bit too gracious to be earnest, he took her hand. “I accept.”

When they took their place on the floor, Hal slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close until their bodies were nearly flush. He dipped his head to the junction of her neck and shoulder, his lips barely brushing her skin. Suddenly, his hand was burning hot on the small of her back. Her world constricted to the scratchy wool of his jacket against her palm, to his breath tracing an electric path up to her ear. She dug her fingers into his shoulder and let herself melt against him. “What are you doing?”

“It needs to look as if we’re trysting. Was that not what you were suggesting?”

“Yes.” She hated the nervous, breathless tremor in her laugh. “That’s the idea.”

He played his role a little too convincingly.

The music at last picked up, a dulcet swell of strings that softened into the steady sway of a waltz. Wren nearly groaned. Of course it would be a waltz when she was trying to ignore this … feeling. The dread that fluttered in her gut, however, met no reflection in Hal. Rather, he focused intently on guiding them into position, taking her hand in his and raising their arms into an elegant V. Last night, she’d sworn to surrender to this attraction between them only once. She was beginning to regret her noble restraint. It was far too easy to relax into him, especially when he was surprisingly skilled. He led them across the floor in slow turns.

“You implied you didn’t dance!”

“I implied I didn’t like to dance.”

“Must you be good at everything?” she asked sourly. “It’s annoying.”

“You think I’m good at everything?” He said it so plainly, she wouldn’t have caught his meaning if not for the playful glint in his eye.

“Ha! No, actually.” How she prayed he couldn’t see her hopeless yearning behind the mask. “Since you and your ego have made such an impressive recovery, I’ve no need to coddle you anymore.”

Hal actually laughed, barely a rumble against her ear. What she wouldn’t give to hear that more often. “I’m not good at everything.”

“Name one thing.”

“Conversation,” he said. “You, on the other hand, are vibrant. You have an ease with people, and you express your feelings so openly. I admire it.”

“Oh,” she mumbled. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“Where did you learn to dance?” he asked after a moment of silence.