“There.” She nodded toward the staircase at the far end of the room. “That must lead to the wine cellar. Our contact will meet us there and take us to the women.”
The music halted, and a burst of applause broke out. As the crowd pushed around them, Diana stumbled into him.
Instinctively, his arms locked tightly around her waist.
A knock sounded from a platform at the front of the room, and a man—short of stature but large on muscles and dark hair—greeted everyone in a mixture of Portuguese and Spanish.
Ian slowly rotated their position so that the shadow of his body obscured Diana’s face.
“Do you recognize him?” she asked, her voice breathy from dancing.
“It must be Costa. See his tiepin, the gold twisted horn? It’s acornicello. Clementi wore one for luck. Costa’s wearing it now that he’s taken his turf.”
Costa summoned another man to the stage, and Ian tried to decipher the mix of Spanish and Portuguese. “It sounds like they’re going to start the auction. They’re talking about jewels.”
“They must mean the women.” Diana cringed and placed a hand over the necklace.
A man standing nearby was eyeing the emeralds far too carefully, and Ian covered her hand with his own.
Her glance slid to their observer before landing back on Ian.
“Remember the plan.” She leaned into his hand. “The casino has rules against avid displays of affection. We need to pique enough interest to earn an escort out the back entrance.”
Once there, the Stags had bribed the serving staff to lead them to the room where the girls were being held.
Ian hated the plan more now than when Diana had first told him about it.
Except for the part that allowed him to suspend reality so that he could touch her, like she belonged to him.
“This is going to backfire,” he warned, before his fingers languidly traced the front of her necklace where it dipped into her décolletage.
“It won’t if you convince them you can’t keep your hands off me.”
Her hushed voice urged him to forget everything but the point of contact where his bare hand met her warm skin.
Music erupted again, and the tide of people moving about the dance floor forced them toward the edge of the room. As Ian steered them out of the fray, their bodies remained entwined. Diana’s eyes fixed on his mouth.
He forgot everything but the need to taste her lips again.
“Senores.” A young woman wearing a white carnation in her hair stood at Ian’s elbow. She wore a close-fitting dress of scant lace and nearly transparent silk and there were a hundred reasons for Ian to dislike her sudden arrival.
“There is an exclusive wine tasting in the cask cellar,” the woman said. “It would be more intimate for you, I think.”
“I would adore something intimate. And a taste of something special,” Diana said quickly.
The woman didn’t wear the uniform of the casino staff, and Ian didn’t trust where she might lead them. “Are you sure we won’t be missed here, darling?”
“Don’t be silly, my love.” Diana laughed and gave him a little shove, moving him to a different view of the door. One of Birdie’s sparrows stood in the wings, wearing a dress identical to Diana’s.
Ian had to admit she was an effective stand-in for anyone watching out for Diana and the emeralds.
“Shall we?” Diana placed a firm palmon Ian’s cheek.
He pressed her hand to his mouth and gave it a small nip to warn her to remain on guard.
The woman with the flower guided them through the crowd and down a dark set of stairs into the basement. Diana proceeded him while Ian followed behind to ensure no one else trailed them into the room.
When the sturdy door snicked closed behind them, Diana had the woman back against the wall with a blade at her throat. “Where are they keeping the white flowers?”