by A. C. Arthur
“What was that for?” Roland asked when she finally let him go.
She stepped back and smiled at him. “You never stay still long enough for me to do that anymore,” she told him. “I miss having you around when I need you.”
“I’m always here for you, Sam. No matter where I am on this earth, you can always call me and I’ll come to you. Don’t ever forget that.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
Sam nodded. “I won’t forget,” she told him.
No, Sam thought. She would never forget that her brothers were always there for her. No matter what mistakes she’d made in the past, this was home and it was where she was loved and respected for just being her.
It was her safe haven, the place she wasn’t about to let anyone, or anything, jeopardize.
Chapter 6
“I believe my partner should be someone from the wedding party,” Sam told Gary as he stood in front of her with his arms open in invitation.
The corner of his mouth lifted and he gave a slight tilt of his head as he replied, “No way am I standing there watching some other guy dance closely to you.”
Succinct and solemn, the words had her stomach clenching, fingers threatening to shake.
“At least that’s how I figure any man that’s madly in love with you would feel,” he continued. “That lady over there in the corner is from one of those style channels. We just cleared her to be in the palace. They’re doing some type of special that Malayka believes will make Grand Serenity the next best wedding destination in the world. With that said, we need to make this thing between us look good.”
He took her hand, holding it up while his other arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her close to him. “We need to make it look very good,” he whispered.
“But Morty’s not here,” Sam replied seconds after she placed her other hand on his shoulder and attempted to relax in his embrace. “Our charade is for the purpose of keeping Morty quiet, not boosting ratings on some wedding show.”
“Your father met with Morty yesterday. He denied everything you said he did.”
“He’s a filthy liar!” she snapped and then sighed when she realized she’d been a little too loud.
There were eight couples in the room, all standing in the center, waiting for the music to start. The guy Sam suspected she was supposed to be partnered with was standing near Malayka. The television host Gary had referred to was, in fact, sitting in a chair with her notepad, scribbling something.
“We know he’s lying, but we plan to go about firing him in the most diplomatic way possible,” Gary told her. “Right now Kris is looking into the man’s work, press releases he’s written, reporters he’s had dealings with. The goal is to find something—anything—else that can be used to relieve him of his duties. Our hope is that having his own scandal wrapped around his neck will keep him from saying anything negative about the royal family.”
“Great. He gets handled with kid gloves while I get put on the hot seat,” she quipped, more quietly this time.
“Is this considered the hot seat?” Gary asked. “Dancing? Or am I making you hot?”
“No, no, you’re not making me...hot,” she argued. “What I meant to say was I shouldn’t be the one in the spotlight when he was the one out of order.”
“Yes,” he said. “He was out of order and we’re going to take care of him. But right now we have to take care of this.”
“This,” she added with a sigh, “is ridiculous, too.”
Then Sam chided herself. Once again, this was not the way the Samantha DeSaunters that the world knew and loved acted.
“All right, all right, listen up, listen up!”
A short, round guy whose complexion was a little too close to a tangerine for his tan to be natural, made his way to the center of the room. He wore silver rings on each of his stubby little fingers, and a chocolate-brown suit. The shirt beneath the suit was canary yellow. The gold chains hanging midway to his protruding stomach were gaudy and Sam wasn’t certain they were even real. His hair was a pasty, lacquered, brown color, combed down on the sides and swerving across the front of his forehead in a fan type of design.
“My name is Gerard Parmingham of the Parmingham School of Dance.” He spoke as if everyone in the room should be familiar with either his name or the school’s reputation.
Sam had never heard of either.
“We’re going to start with the tango,” he said with a flourish of one arm going up in the air and a snap of his fingers and clapping of his feet.
Somebody chuckled.
Gerard immediately frowned. “So everyone must pay attention and listen closely to what I say. If you listen to what I say, you will look wonderful. If you do not listen to what I say, you will look like crap. If you look like crap, Princess Malayka will not be pleased. If Princess Malayka is not pleased...well, let’s just not go there.
“Now,” he continued, moving to stand in the center of the room as all the couples formed a circle around him, “this dance will serve as the bride and groom’s first dance. They will walk to the center of the floor, do a solo performance. Very sexy. Very lovely. We’ll practice that.” The last was said with a smile toward Malayka.
Malayka and the man that was supposed to be Sam’s partner had made their way to the center of the room, close to Gerard. The instructor was now positioning them in an intimate fashion that had the man blushing and Malayka smiling widely.
“About five minutes into the beautiful solo dance, each couple will join them on the floor. You will move gracefully.” Gerard demonstrated with more flourishing of his arms and an exaggerated step of his feet. “You will form a circle around the happy couple as you are now. Your dance will start together, in an embrace like this.”
The woman who wore glasses and her partner were the subject of Gerard’s positioning at the moment. The man’s arm went around the woman’s waist, his other hand was tucked tightly into hers, and then Gerard put his hand on both of their backs and pushed them closer together.
“Tight. Tight. Together, that’s what you will do. This is a very sensual dance. Think of beautiful seductive dresses, intoxicating cologne on men garbed in tuxedos, great music and then, of course, sex.” He finished with a salacious smile and a bouncing of his eyebrows.
It was sort of like the circus when everyone would watch the act in the center ring for entertainment purposes. He was exuberant and excitable, and he was getting on Sam’s nerves. She felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. This was going to be the longest two and a half hours of her life. And when she wanted nothing more than to run screaming out of the room, she found herself being drawn closer into Gary’s embrace.
As the music began, so did his steps.
“Pay attention! Watch Gerard. Look what Gerard is doing! One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.”
He continued and Sam cut a glance over at him because despite hating being here, she did not want to look like a fool at the wedding. That was simply unacceptable. She watched Gerard’s movements until she was turned quickly in a lavish move that literally almost swept her off her feet. When she came to her senses and looked into Gary’s eyes, it was to see him smiling at her.
Sam was no stranger to ballroom dancing. She’d taken many classes as a young girl, but it wasn’t high up on her list of fun things to do. As a matter of fact, the only time she ever found herself in a dancing embrace was at formal functions. But her partners were usually older men who had nothing on the easy, seductive rhythm that Gary seemed to possess.
“Don’t tell me you know how to tango?”
He shrugged.
“My mother loved to watch Dancing with the Stars. It made her happy to perform the dances she saw on television in the middle of our living room. It was the least I could do for her and, in my eyes, she was always the g
rand prize winner.”
Not only was there a strength he naturally exuded, Sam also realized that she would have to contend with how attractive she found him in his jeans, black boots and black T-shirt. So unlike the attire of the men she was used to being around, and yet it fit him perfectly. The sentiment and the genuine emotion she could hear in his voice when he spoke about dancing with his mother was the clincher.
“I wasn’t terribly bored watching the colorful outfits and hearing the sometimes scathing commentary from the judges,” he continued. “I will admit it was a little uncomfortable while I was doing the tango with my mother, but I got the hang of it. And she loved it.”
He swayed to the rhythm of the music and Sam followed as best she could. The tango wasn’t one of the dances she was used to doing. She vaguely remembered some of the moves she’d been taught years ago, but admitted to herself she was nowhere as good as Gary.
“Yes, this is it,” Gerard said as he came up to them. “The close embrace technique. Everybody look at the way these two are connected. Not only chest-to-chest, but also at the hips, their thighs—they are blended as one.”
He was right about that, Sam thought as heat radiated throughout her entire body due to said closeness. The instructor’s comments seemed to give Gary more leave because he held her even tighter, his fingers just skimming the lower part of her back. His other hand held hers tightly. Their bodies were flush, almost plastered to each other in the way that a couple making love would be connected.
Sam cleared her throat and tried to focus on the dance, and only the dance.
Gerard was saying something to another woman now. Again, Sam found herself gazing at the one who had been wearing the ridiculous glasses last night at dinner. The woman complained that her partner had two left feet.
A part of Sam wanted to rejoice; not only was her partner good-looking, he was also damn good on the dance floor. Unfortunately, Sam wasn’t certain rejoicing was what she should be doing at the moment. When she’d awakened this morning, she was fairly sure that the likelihood of her being in a man’s arms again was slim to none. Yet here she was, not only in Gary’s arms, but thoroughly enjoying being there.
Was it hot in here now?
Were her nipples hardening as her breasts rubbed against his chest seductively?
When he ground his hips into hers and used his tight grip around her waist to guide her into the same motions, did she feel a throbbing in her center? Was he awakening something in her she had long since abandoned?
Too many questions.
After talking with Roland last night, she’d come to the conclusion that she was going to take his advice. She was going to let things play out. And by “things” she meant the nuptials between her father and Malayka. Not whatever this was that was brewing between her and Gary.
And brewing it definitely was.
As the dance continued, the two of them seemed to grow more familiar. She knew when he turned her again and dipped her deep that she would be held securely in his arms. There was no fear of falling because the look in his eyes said he would never let her go. When she was pulled back up to a standing position his leg was between hers and, on instinct, Sam relaxed into the sultry rhythm of the moves mixed with the music. She swayed in a motion that had her riding his thigh. If she’d thought her body was reacting to him before, the quick jump and throb in her center, the swelling of her breasts and the quick intake of air had her admitting she hadn’t imagined anything.
There was another part of the dance where his face was close to hers, their lips only a whisper a part.
She wanted to kiss him. Again.
And again.
“Perfect! Perfect!” Gerard was yelling.
Seconds later he was clapping Gary on the back. The spell was broken—or it should have been. The music had stopped. Yet Gary didn’t release her. Everyone stared at them, again. Sam attempted to pull away from him but this time Gerard was the one pushing them close together the same way he had with Malayka and her partner.
“This is how it should be done. Now, let’s take it from the top and everybody watch these two. They’ve got it! The sex, the allure, the intensity. Like passion put to music. Again! Again!” the little cherub-like man continued and the music started once more.
“Well, you heard the man,” Gary said as he folded her into his embrace once more. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”
He smiled at her this time. A wide, crooked grin that turned all that heat that had been swirling throughout her body into a blustery storm. She took his hand and this time melted into the embrace.
Let it play out. She thought back to Roland’s words. Just let this play out and it, too, would be over soon.
Right?
* * *
Sam spoke of the changes to the island from the late 1800s as they stood amid the ruins of an old oil refinery. At that time, Grand Serenity was under the control of Abraham Chapman and the British government, leading up to the year-long battle in the early 1950s. After lunch, the entire wedding party, Gerard and Malayka included—had traveled to the far eastern side of the island. Buildings were old mounds of rubble and decay having been left as a historic symbol marking how far the islanders had come.
Gary listened intently although he’d already read all about Grand Serenity’s history and the DeSaunters family’s rise to power.
“Marco Vansig had been governor of the island by this time and he ruled with an iron fist. Vansig destroyed the monuments and any remnants from the Chapman rule and basked in the riches that continued to flow through the now numerous gold mines and refineries around the island.” Sam was speaking to the group.
“This is one of the early oil refineries that was eventually bled dry by Vansig, the proceeds of which never made it to the islanders. Everything went to Vansig. He was notorious for his womanizing and gambling and his overall flashy lifestyle.”
She looked amazing standing tall and proud in front of a cracking tower, its stones turned dark and dirty from a combination of salty seawater; warm, humid air; and lack of care. Her hair had been pulled back, held with a colored tie that matched the light pink, sleeveless top she wore with the formfitting white skirt decorated with large pink and black flowers. She looked fresh and young, like a woman sure of her place in this world and certain that everyone was always watching her in it. Whether or not that was a good thing, Gary hadn’t concluded. He did know, however, that Samantha wore it well.
Regal, rich, intelligent, sexy. All of it she wore like a second skin and made it look effortless.
“Just down the road there is a pathway leading to the beach. This is where the army of islanders led by my grandfather, Josef Marquise DeSaunters, who had grown tired of Vansig’s tyrannical rule, traveled to begin their sneak attack on Vansig and the palace.” She lifted an arm to point in the direction and was greeted with a few grumbles from the crowd.
“There’s too much walking on this tour,” the woman with the glasses complained.
Her name was Sylvia. Gary had made a point to speak with her at lunch because he’d overheard her talking about his and Samantha’s dance.
“I’ll bet they’re getting it on in every room of that big ol’ palace,” she’d said to Evelyn, the woman who had been sitting with her last night.
“Ew, I hope not in the bed I’m sleeping in,” Evelyn had replied.
“Who said anything about using a bed? He looks like the type to just pick a girl up and have his way with her right against the wall. Did you see how he was holding her and looking at her? Pure, unadulterated lust, I tell you.”
“You think so?” Gary had said when he’d interrupted their conversation. “I was hoping we were doing the dance correctly. From your comments, I take it that we were.”
“Oh, well, we weren’t gossiping about you and the princess or anything li
ke that,” Evelyn had hurried to say. “Sylvia just meant that the two of you looked so good on the dance floor. So realistic.”
“Evelyn’s right,” Sylvia’d chimed in, not appearing the least bit apologetic. “You looked as if you two knew each other’s bodies and the moves of that dance personally. Anybody watching would draw the same conclusion.”
Gary doubted that, but it had felt good to let the women know he was well aware of what they thought about him and Samantha. He had left them with a warning about spreading lies. “You’re too pretty to have your nose growing longer because you can’t separate fact from fiction.”
Evelyn had looked embarrassed but smiled, anyway. Sylvia had looked devious and hadn’t bothered to hide the fact.
Now it was Sylvia who was complaining as she’d begun to walk toward Samantha. But Malayka stopped her friend and continued to approach the princess herself.
Gary, who had been standing a few steps to the left behind Samantha, moved in closer to eavesdrop.
“How much longer is this going to take?” Malayka asked. “And why are you showing us war things? I want them to see how pretty the island is, not hear about a violent past.”
“Our past is the reason for our present,” Samantha replied diplomatically.
Gary wanted to applaud her for taking the high road when she could’ve so easily responded another way.
“Whatever,” Malayka quipped. “Let’s just get on with this. And when we get down to the beach, let me do the talking. The TV people will want to hear about the beach being a good location for wedding ceremonies and such.”
“I don’t think now is the right time for that,” Samantha told her. “We should keep this outing about the history. Tourists find that interesting in addition to just going for how a place looks.”
Malayka chuckled. “Who are you kidding? That’s just nonsense. But I should have known, especially since you’ve never planned a wedding. I’ll take it from here.”
Malayka turned back to face the crowd. She was about to speak when the first shot rang out. It exploded against the corner of the tower, directly above Samantha’s head. Gary reacted instantly, throwing his body over hers as he yelled, “Get down!”
