The Duke and The Werewolf Princess novel Chapter 4

Marcela breezed herself. Nervous and shy, she rested one hand on Ariel's shoulder and felt his fingers close around the other as he swung her into the waltz. Anticipation sizzled through her nerves, compelling her and it was so unnerving that after a few steps, she stumbled.

Ariel clamped her against his lean, athletic body for breathless seconds before he drawled, “Relax princess.”-

His warm breath on her skin sent tiny, delicious shudders through her, a gentler counterpoint to the sultry heat that penetrated deeply within her at the intimate flexing of his thigh muscles. Shocked by the intimacy of her response, Marcela pulled herself a safe distance away and forced herself to ignore the sensual tug until her natural sense of rhythm settled her steps.

This actual physical response was very new to her as the tingling sensation was pounding through her and had sprung into action just like the first time she had met Ariel. Gritting her teeth she resisted the tantalizing thrill, sharp and adrenalin-charged as though she faced a sudden danger.

Did he feel the same? She wondered.

She risked an upward glance, her heart racing as she met his searching and disturbing intent eyes. His grip did not tighten, but she still sensed a quickening in him that he could not control.

Yes, Oh yes, she thought triumphantly, before a flurry of panic washed over that intoxicating emotion.

Swallowing she said in her most remote tone. “Sorry, I wasn't concentrating” Then wondered uneasily if the admission had hinted at her body's discomfort.

Hurriedly she added. “This has been one of the most charming weddings I have ever attended. Alexia is so happy and it's lovely to see Arthur utterly smitten.”

“Yet you seemed a little distracted. Is something worrying you?” Ariel, she enquired smoothly.

Well, yes several things, in fact with one in particular which was nagging in her mind she thought but she was not about to blurt out in front of him.

Marcela had noticed that plenty of eyes around the ballroom were fixed on her, some pitting, others malicious. Of the two she preferred spite, although someone had hissed in a pitched voice carefully to reach her ears still stung.

“It must be breaking her heart, yet she is smiling, how pitiful, “one of the Duchess had said.

Her companion had returned on a laugh, “I will bet her brother is furious that she failed to land on Prince Arthur's arms and they lost their best chance of clawing their way out of poverty. And losing out to a nobody must be bitter indeed.”

Everyone was commenting about their speculation and did not bother about how she felt.

Let them think what they like pride stiffening her spine, she smiled up at Ariel. Oh, not too wide, in case those watchers suspected her of acting but with a slow, amused glimmer that should give some of the eager gossipers a few seconds of thought.

“I am not distracted and nothing’s wrong,” she told him with a smile on her face not wanting to give away any of her emotions.