Lovers' Dance (53 page)

“Your explanation does have some merit,” he said quietly.

“Some?” I mean, it had more than
some
merit. My explanation was clear, concise. My explanation was loaded with merit.

Matt eyed my stance. So I had a little attitude going on, but he had to admit I was making perfect sense.

“I think—” He paused, then rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, we need to have a proper discussion about these things, poppet.”

I opened my mouth and he held a hand up, silencing me. Was I trained?

“Now isn’t the time,” he continued softly. “But it’s obvious we need to address certain contentious issues that unfortunately are unavoidable. We can’t change who we are, and unless we figure out a way to deal with certain issues—”

“You mean race?” I asked. Why was he loathe to say it?

Matt cocked his head at me. “Can I continue without further interruptions?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now where was I?”

“We can’t change who we are and we need to figure this out or else,” I summarized with private alarm. I was so concerned with looking at this whole relationship from my point-of-view, it hadn’t crossed my mind that maybe Matt might be the one to say, “To hell with this drama.”

“Or else this won’t work, poppet,” he said, verbally confirming what I feared.

“Ah.” I licked my dry lips. “You’re not going to, um, I mean, you do love me, right?”

His forehead furrowed as he frowned at me. “Sometimes I forget how much younger than me you are and the fact this is your first relationship.” Matt closed the distance between us and fingered my chin, tilting my head up so I could see into his eyes. “I adore you and I don’t know how else to reassure you, poppet.”

“Maybe a tattoo of my name somewhere on your body?” My attempt to lighten the tension between us made a little headway. He gave me the ghost of a smile.

“Not in a million years,” Matt replied dryly, then resumed his serious demeanour. “We have to get past this. Okay?”

I nodded slowly, then forced a smile to my face. “Okay, Matt.”

He kissed the tip of my nose, then stepped back, taking my hand in his.

“This is going to sound strange,” I said as Matt and I started moving back towards the festivities. “But I miss when no one knew about us. Those were good times. It was just us in our own little world.”

“Mmm.” Matt made a non-committal sound at the back of his throat.

“It was nice, wasn’t it?” I squeezed his hand, marvelling at how small mine was to his. I frigging loved his hands, so strong, yet they could be so gentle. “Don’t you miss it?”

Matt stopped for a second, shaking his head slightly. “I miss spending the time with you. Right now, it seems like we’re both too busy. I don’t miss the hiding. The secrecy. I despise secrets, poppet, they always get found out.”

I fell silent as we dodged the other guests and approached Nathan and Bella.

I had a secret. I glanced surreptitiously at Matt from under my lashes. Was that a loaded comment intended for me? Paranoia, it was understandable. He was good at reading me. Hmm, maybe I should sign up for acting classes. Learn to project emotion that you didn’t feel.

“Matt.” Bella handed me my flute while smiling at Matt. “Nathan’s volunteered you both for Franklin’s yearly skiing and mountain climb in Switzerland.”

“You what?” Matt dropped my hand, glaring at a grinning Nathan.

“We missed out last year, Matt,” Nathan said unrepentantly.

“You mountain climb?” I asked. The skiing I could see. That’s what people like Matt did. But mountain climbing? That was dangerous stuff. Broken bones galore, or worse. An icy death on some remote mountainside. Umm, come to think of it, the same risks were associated with skiing. My heart fell to the floor as images of a broken, bloodied Matt jumped in front my eyes.

Before Matt could reply, I rounded on Nathan. “Are you crazy? You can’t volunteer someone for something like that. If you want to play with your own life, that’s fine. But leave my Matt out of it. He’s not a young thrill seeker, he’s a respectable businessman with responsibilities. And he’s not going. Whatever pre-midlife crisis you’re going through, you can do it by yourself, Nathan. Don’t you know Matt’s been having back problems? Climbing in Switzerland? Huh, not on my watch.” I snorted.

Matt cleared his throat loudly, arms folded and face set in haughty disdain as I twisted my head in his direction.

“I’m undecided whether to feel flattered at your concern, poppet, or thoroughly insulted over your lack of faith in my abilities.” One eyebrow went up. “Back problems? What back problems?”

“Sorry, mate, didn’t know you were that old and decrepit,” Nathan teased as I scrambled to say something to smooth over my outburst. Bella sipped her champagne quietly, hiding her amused smile behind her flute with eyes wide as she observed us.

“It sounded different in my head.” I appeased Matt, who was eyeing me.

“I’m leaning towards insulted,” Matt said, with a wry quirk of lips. I grinned and reached up to smooth my fingertips over his arched left eyebrow. It resumed its natural position. Why the heck hadn’t I thought of doing that sooner?

<><><>

Matt watched her out of the corner of his eyes while carrying on a conversation with Franklin about his yearly trip to his place in Switzerland. She was laughing at something Dougal McGregor had said, her face lighting up with amusement, doe eyes glistening as she shook her head at the man she’d outbid earlier. Matt chewed his inner cheeks wondering what the Scotsman had said to his poppet to make her react in such a manner. He felt as if all eyes were on her, especially in that sexy dress she was wearing. Her usually wild curls were tamed into order tonight and bobbing over her shoulders and around her beautiful face as she let out another bout of laughter. He couldn’t hear her from this distance, but he knew how her musical laugh sounded. He wanted to know what McGregor was saying to her. Matt was fully aware of his jealous tendencies where it concerned Madi—he couldn’t help it. Never had he felt as possessive of a woman as he did with her. McGregor’s age didn’t help ease Matt’s current state of mind. They were almost the same age if Matt recalled correctly. McGregor was around twenty-seven, maybe twenty-eight. He silently cursed his feelings of insecurity. It was bad enough having to accept her close relationship with that Dante fellow, the last thing he needed was seeing a rival where there was none. It wasn’t like she’d see McGregor again, at least not frequently. He wasn’t in Matt’s inner circle of friends.

“The usual people will be there,” Franklin continued, trying his best to persuade Matt to join them. “Last year was an absolute riot, shame you missed it. Don’t let that happen this year.”

“We’ll see, Franklin. You know how hard it is to get away.”

Franklin gave him a sceptical look and glanced across where Madi stood with McGregor. “I know you’ve recently been to Venice and, a few months before that, you were in France. Come on, Matt.”

Matt chuckled in defeat, nodding in agreement. He did enjoy his skiing and climbing. It had been almost a year since he’d last gotten any form of climbing in. Casting another glance in Madi’s direction, he took a drink of the sparkling water in his glass. Back problems. Cheeky little thing. Her uncomfortable bed was the problem, and her unspoken inference that he was too old to partake in such sports had left him extremely put out. His gaze narrowed in irritation as he watched McGregor pull a card out of his inner jacket pocket and hand it over to Madi. Matt noted how she toyed with it for a moment before reluctantly putting it into her purse. He would definitely remove it later.

“I’m sure your current lady won’t mind you leaving her alone for a week. I doubt she’s ever been on the piste, far less hauling herself up the side of a mountain,” Franklin said blandly.

Matt shot him a sharp look. Was that some form of racial stereotyping? He felt his face fall into a neutral mask as he coolly observed the man he’d known for almost fifteen years. “What do you mean by that, Franklin?”

Franklin returned Matt’s empty look with a confused one, suddenly aware of the deceptive calmness of Matt’s demeanour. “She’s a dancer, isn’t she? I read in some magazine that she’s a ballerina. I naturally assumed she wouldn’t be into extreme sports.”

Matt’s features relaxed as he nodded. “You’re right. High risk sports are a no-no in her books.”

Bloody hell. His earlier conversation with Madi had him on edge. Franklin wasn’t a racist, at least not as far as Matt knew, and he’d known him for a long time. Why was he searching for any hidden nuances in his friend’s words? This was exactly why he avoided thinking about this particular subject. It made him uncomfortable and he didn’t want it to affect his perceived views. But how could it not?

Matt chewed his inner cheeks pensively. He would need to do research. How outrageous was that? Him? He knew everything there was to know about relationships. Yet, his poppet was a complete enigma. Matt amended his previous thought. It was arrogant and wrong. He didn’t know the first thing about being in love with a black woman. That was where his frustration stemmed from. In his eyes Madi was just a woman. He didn’t look at her and think, ‘My girlfriend is black.’ No, all he saw when he looked at her was the most exquisite creation known to man. But he knew she had a major issue with his race. He knew this and wanted to avoid it like the plague. He’d hoped by ignoring it, it would go away. Obviously, it wasn’t going away.

Damn it. They would need to have a serious talk.

“She could come along, you know,” Franklin murmured. “If she wanted to. One more person means more fun.”

Matt rubbed his chin, not sure he wanted to subject Madi to one of Franklin’s Swiss mini-breaks.

“We’ll see,” he replied with a distracted smile. McGregor was introducing Madi to new people who had wandered over to their side, and Matt skilfully masked his disbelief behind a casual façade. The Scotsman was introducing Madi as if she was his date, his hand holding her elbow as he turned her around to face someone else. Bollocks to that.

“Franklin.” Matt held a hand out to his friend. “I’ll call you sometime next week to confirm the dates.”

They shook hands and Matt left his friend behind as he made his way in determined strides to his woman. Politely, he brushed off the people who tried to stop him and draw him into their little groups. He was ready to leave.

“Madison,” he said firmly, slipping a possessive hand over her waist as he shot the people around her a pleasant smile. His eyes were cold though as they landed on McGregor. “It’s time for us to leave.”

She flashed him a sweet smile and nodded.

“You cannae leave yet,” McGregor said in mock shock. “This wee lass has agreed to show me her dancing skills as recompense for outbidding me.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Madi retorted, shaking her head in amusement at McGregor.

The Scotsman chuckled and held a hand out to Matt, who shook it with the barest hint of reluctance. “Matt, good to see you. How’s business?”

“Fine, and your family’s distillery?”

“Aye, all’s well at the moment,” McGregor said. His gaze returned to Madi and Matt felt the strongest urge to punch the man when he let his eyes roam over Madi’s body. Matt moved ever so slightly, turning a fraction into her. McGregor’s gaze flew upwards and a light flush of embarrassment covered his face as he immediately avoided Matt’s look. Tosser. Did he think Matt wouldn’t notice?

Madi nudged Matt with a giggle falling from her luscious lips. “Dougie’s accent is cool, Matt. Like the great Sean Connery.”

“Och, lass, ye cannae mean that.” McGregor’s Scottish drawl became more prominent and Madi’s face lit up. “I’ve met him, ken. When I was a wee laddie. Almost pissed meself from fright.”

Madi laughed and glanced up at Matt, brown eyes sparkling. Matt’s mouth curled up at the edges at her expression. So bloody beautiful she was. And all his.

“Why don’t ye both join us tonight?” McGregor asked, gaze jumping between Madi and Matt. “Ye like whiskey, aye Madi? My family makes the best whiskey in all of Scotland.”

“No, thank you,” Matt said immediately. “We have plans.”

“Some other time then?” McGregor asked. “I promised the wee lass a taste of haggis, neeps and tatties. She hasnae lived until she’s tried Scottish food with a dram of whiskey at the side.”

Matt arched an unamused eyebrow at McGregor. The arse. He was an Oxford graduate and perfectly capable of speaking without his native vernacular. He only emphasized it to delight Madi, and she was delighted, Matt noticed.

“Another time, Dougal,” Matt said in a voice that brooked no argument, stepping away and drawing Madi with him.

“Aye, another time then,” McGregor said, eyes resting on Madi as she murmured goodbye to the group. “That’s a bonnie lass ye got there, Matt.”

“Yes, I know,” Matt responded curtly, before saying goodbye and ushering Madi away. When they were out of earshot, Matt leaned down to mutter in her ear, “Dougie? You have a nickname for McGregor? You just met the man.”

She shrugged and pointed out Bella and Nathan to him. “He’s funny and has the cutest accent. He said I could call him that. What does ‘ken’ mean?”

“It means ‘know’, and I ken you have his card in your purse, poppet.”