The music and the dance stopped, and Jorgen glanced around the room. He leaned toward her and said softly, “Everyone is looking at you, the most beautiful woman here.”
“I think they are looking at you, Jorgen. They are asking themselves, ‘Who is that handsome prince?’ ”
He looked as if he didn’t believe her, lifting one brow and one corner of his mouth. “Thank you, but I was being truthful.”
“As was I.”
“Jorgen!” Mathis strode up to Jorgen’s side. “I hope you are not going to dance with this lovely swan all night.”
“I had hoped I would.” Jorgen winked at her.
Odette smiled at him. When she looked back at Mathis, his brows had drawn together in an angry V. Quickly she said, “I am a little tired. Perhaps Jorgen could find a place where I might sit.”
Mathis still did not look pleased. “I will find you later, Odette, when you are feeling better.” He took her hand and kissed it before walking away, as though he saw someone over her shoulder he wanted to talk to.
Jorgen led her away from the dancers as another song began. “There are some chairs in the gallery.”
Just outside the ballroom, the gallery was a long room dimly lit by candles with many small windows along one wall. The entire opposite wall was covered by a large painting of a battle scene. Chairs were placed between the narrow windows. Odette sat in one and Jorgen sat down beside her.
“I was not actually tired.” Odette glanced at Jorgen out of the corner of her eye. “I just did not feel like dancing with Mathis.”
“Then you will not have to dance with him. I will tell him myself, if you want me to.”
“It isn’t that I do not want to dance with him. It’s more that I do not want to dance . . . at this moment.”
Jorgen stared at the battle scene on the wall in front of them, a pensive look on his face. “A good painting, is it not? So lifelike.”
Odette turned in her chair to study it. “Yes, except for the ladies there at the edge. I do not think ladies would be at a battle.”
“No, probably the artist wanted an excuse to paint something more beautiful than a battle.”
“They do bring more color to the scene.”
Loud laughter drifted through the doorway leading to the ballroom. She watched to see if others would intrude on them.
“Perhaps we could take a walk,” Odette said without thinking first. “Oh, that is probably not possible. Where would we go, after all?”
“There is a balcony at the end of this gallery. You could get some air.”
“That sounds lovely.”
They both stood, and Odette placed her hand on his arm. What would he think if she slipped her arm through his? The mask was making her bold—and foolish. But she slipped her arm through his anyway.
They wandered through the deserted gallery. At the end, Jorgen opened the door to a balcony. They walked to the stone half wall and gazed down at the deep ravine at the bottom of the rocky hill that lifted the castle out of the landscape. In the distance, beyond the ravine, the town of Thornbeck winked its tiny lights, while the moon looked down over them with a peaceful white glow.
“The air is perfect tonight,” Odette murmured. “Not too hot or too cool.”
Jorgen turned to look at her. “Are you sure you do not want to be inside meeting all the countesses and duchesses?”
“We can go back inside in a little while. It is pleasant here.” Alone with you. She could stay here with him all night, allowing herself to imagine what it would be like if he kissed her, if they were free to fall in love. If only she were truly a swan princess and he were truly a prince.
20
JORGEN COULD NOT take his eyes off Odette. The mask somehow made her even more mysterious . . . and desirable. The white feathers were oddly appropriate, hovering around her perfect face. The memory of her pressing her cheek against his chest after he had taken her and Kathryn out of The Red House was never far from his thoughts tonight.
She turned her back on the scene below the balcony and faced him. “I know your parents died in the Great Pestilence, just as mine did. But how long did you live on the streets before you went to live with the forester and his wife?”
The question jarred him from his pleasant ruminations. He ran his hand through the back of his hair and cleared his throat. “It must have been about a year, or a little less.”
When he didn’t say anything else, Odette’s hand moved down his arm, and she slipped her hand inside his. His heart beat like a thundering of horses’ hooves as she gently squeezed.