Majesty (American Royals, #2)(35)
Sam wondered if her brother had anyone in mind. There was always the possibility he would do what the world expected of him, and get back together with Daphne.
She hoped not. It certainly wouldn’t be easy on Nina, seeing Jeff and Daphne together again.
“Samantha,” Robert said now, omitting her title, though he’d used it for everyone else. “You said that you’ve invited Lord Marshall Davis. Where is he?”
Sam was inordinately pleased by how startled Teddy looked at the news. Even Beatrice, who never revealed her emotions, widened her eyes in surprise.
“I’m sure he’s on his way,” she began, though she wasn’t at all sure. But somehow, right on cue, the doors to the ballroom were flung open.
Marshall crossed the room with bold, easy strides and came to stand next to Sam. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t hold things up too much.”
It was the most unapologetic sorry that Sam had ever heard. Which meant a lot, coming from her.
Robert pursed his lips in disapproval. “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin.” He swiped at his tablet, and the opening notes of “America, My Homeland” played on the speaker system.
It really was a dour song, Sam thought, feeling almost sorry for Beatrice. At least when she got married, she would get to choose the music for her first dance.
Marshall draped an arm over her shoulders in a casual gesture. “Hey, babe.”
Sam nestled in closer, letting her head tip onto his shoulder. “I told you not to call me that,” she murmured—and gave his side a pinch.
Marshall didn’t even wince. He just caught her hand with his, lacing their fingers. “Oh, snookums, I have a younger sister. You’re going to have to do better than that to send me running.”
“Snookums? Seriously?” Sam tried to tug her hand from his grip, but Marshall held it fast.
He began brushing his thumb in lazy circles over her knuckles. It was distracting enough that Sam fell still. She let her gaze drift to where Beatrice and Teddy were floating through the steps of the dance.
She hated to admit it, but they looked good together. When Teddy spun her on her toes, Beatrice’s dress even fluttered out a little, hinting at how much better the real dress would look. The exertion seemed to warm her, so that by the time they’d reached the first chorus, her cheeks were flushed with a delicate pinkness that made her look…happy.
Robert turned around with a clucking noise. As Jeff headed to the other side of the ballroom—dancing with their mother, who was standing in for his date, whoever that would be—Marshall tugged Sam onto the dance floor. He clasped her right hand firmly in his left, settling his other hand on her hip. She fit into his arms with surprising ease.
The music slid into a bleak, lonely-sounding bridge, and Marshall groaned. “How do they expect us to dance to such a depressing song?”
“Just shut up and do as you’re told,” Sam snapped, a little disconcerted that his thoughts so closely mirrored hers. “I’m starting to worry that you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
He smiled at that. “No one will believe we’re dating if you keep saying what you actually think. Especially about me.”
“But you make it so easy to insult you,” Sam tossed back, even as she realized that Marshall was right. She’d never been this brutally honest with a boy before—because she’d never entered a relationship knowing it would go nowhere. Honestly, it was kind of liberating.
“Look, I know we said we’d go on our first public date next week,” she went on, “but Jeff and I just decided that we’re having a party on Saturday. You should come.”
Marshall’s grip on her waist tightened. “Ah, so your mystery guy is going to be there. And you need me to strike fear and jealousy into his heart.”
No, but I’ll post such fantastic pictures that he’ll have no choice but to see them, and realize I’ve moved on. “I can invite Kelsey, if that’s what you’re asking,” she offered.
“Kelsey rarely leaves LA. She only came to that museum party because she was filming a commercial the next day.”
“I thought you said you hadn’t talked to her,” Sam replied, and he gave a wry shrug at being caught.
“We didn’t talk. I just…saw her post about the commercial online.”
“Marshall!” Sam hissed. “You haven’t unfollowed her? That’s the first thing you’re supposed to do after a breakup!”
“Sorry if I don’t rush to take your advice. I know that when it comes to relationships, you’re infinitely wise and mature,” he said drily, and Sam rolled her eyes.
“Just promise you’ll come to the party, okay?”
“Sure,” he agreed, surprising her. “When in my life have I turned down a party?”
“I—okay. Thanks.” Sam was suddenly distracted by the way Marshall’s hand drifted lower, to settle over the curve of her spine.
Really, dancing was a strange social phenomenon. Here she was, so close to Marshall that they could talk without being heard, close enough that she could smell the clean, laundered scent of him. Yet everyone seemed determined to pretend that it was just like any other court ritual—that it wasn’t intimate or physical at all.
Her next step landed her foot squarely on his. She stumbled back, but Marshall tightened his grip on her elbow to steady her.