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.