Page 13 of The Sound of Seduction (Miracles on Harley Street #4)

W endy never wanted her first dance with the prince to be in her drawing room, but considering that it was happening at all made her quiver with joy that she thought she’d snap in two like a twig.

When Prince Stan stepped forward, tall and confident, his shadow stretched long and commanding across the wooden floor.

Wendy soon forgot to breathe again. He bowed slightly when he stood just behind Andre, an elegant gesture that sent a tingle skittering down her spine.

“And this is how a gentleman cuts in,” Andre said as he bowed to the prince as he stepped back from Wendy.

“Would you do me the honor of permitting that I lead you in your first waltz?” the prince murmured, his voice low and impossibly gentle.

Before she could collect herself enough to refuse—not that she truly wished to—he extended his hand.

With trembling fingers, she placed hers in his, the warmth of his grasp searing.

He drew her closer, the faint scent of cedarwood and clean linen enveloping her as if the very air he breathed carried its own comfort.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder.

“He will show you. Let me check when the carriage is ready and if Nick needs any help.” With those words, Andre left the room.

Alone.

With the prince.

Her giddy heart thundered in her chest, her breath catching as his gaze met hers. Her knees wavered, a trembling betrayal beneath his closeness.

“Relax your shoulders,” Prince Stan said softly, his other hand settling lightly at her waist, firm but respectful. His touch was unshakably steady.

She forced herself to look up, meeting his dark-blue eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the world—and her heart—in their depths.

“This is all about trust,” he continued, leading her in a slow, careful step. His voice rumbled through her chest before his words reached her ears. “Just follow me. One step, and then another.”

“W-Where am I stepping to?” she asked.

The prince looked down, and Wendy followed his gaze. There was a small distance between their bodies.

Yet any distance felt like too much.

“Imagine a square on the floor. We must only step inside its four corners.”

She looked down, but her mind stayed blank.

“Begin with the left foot. Step forward with the left foot on count one, step to the side with the right foot on count two, and close the left foot to the right foot on count three.”

One, two… thud!

She had bumped right into him.

He only rumbled a laugh, gentle, not mocking. She was so close she could sense the vibration. Wendy looked down again, but no coherent thoughts came to her mind.

“Left foot. Step forward, step to the side…” Yes, she could do that.

Thud! Again.

She was so close that his wonderful laugh vibrated through her bones. Then she stepped back. “You need to mirror my steps, Miss Folsham.” He extended his arms and invited hers in. “Steady your frame with your arms. You already have impeccable posture.” Impeccable. She was impeccable?

“Step forward with the left foot on count one, step to the side with the right foot on count two.” He started to move. “See? It’s easy, one, two, three.”

Easy? No.

“One, two, three,” she mumbled.

The prince is dancing with me. What are you doing? This isn’t safety. This is surrender. But her traitorous body kept time to him like it had waited years to belong.

Their movements were tentative at first, her nerves making her misstep more than once.

Yet each time her foot faltered, his presence was there to steady her, to guide her with infinite patience.

Gradually, an unspoken rhythm passed between them, and she began to trust the silent language of their joined hands.

How he wielded his strength—to support her, not control her—softened her knees.

They turned in a slow, graceful circle, the faint strains of imagined music filling the room.

His closeness felt intoxicating, yet achingly safe.

For an instant, the chaos of her world outside this room ceased to exist. There was only the warmth of his hand, the quiet assurance in his step, the soothing scent curled around her like a favorite novel—warm, unforgettable.

When he smiled, it stole the air from her lungs, leaving her helpless in the gravity of his presence. “You’re a natural,” he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that wrapped around her like the lingering warmth of a summer sunset.

A nervous laugh bubbled from her lips before she could stop it. “I hardly think so,” she murmured, her words trembling under the moment, her heart pounding louder than the music that surrounded them.

“You’re better than you think,” he said, his voice low and intimate, each word a confession only for her.

His eyes locked onto hers, a smoldering promise hidden in their depths.

The world around them faded, the waltz forgotten as the space between them disappeared entirely.

It wasn’t the dance that kept her steady—it was him.

His unyielding strength, the way his hands guided her with effortless confidence, and the unspoken desire that lingered like a spark waiting to ignite.

Her breath hitched as his hand slid ever so slightly over her back, pulling her closer. If she moved just a fraction closer, his lips would be… Dare she think it?

“Am I interrupting something?” Nick’s voice cut through the moment like a sharp wind, shattering the fragile tension. They broke apart as though caught in the act, the spell broken.

Nick stood in the doorway, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, and his smirk equal parts amusement and suspicion. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your… dance lesson,” he added, though the warning undertone in his voice said otherwise.

She stepped back, breathless and flustered, avoiding both of their eyes. “Of course not, Nick,” she said quickly, her cheeks burning.

Prince Stan, however, didn’t even flinch.

His gaze lingered on her for an agonizing heartbeat longer before he straightened, his expression unreadable.

“We’ll have to finish this at the ball,” he said softly, meant only for her ears, before turning and walking away, leaving her heart racing for entirely different reasons.