She laughed. “That is true. What are we dancing? A waltz? I’d love to waltz.”
“Whatever the lady wishes.”
She placed her hand in his. “Then I accept.”
He closed his fingers on hers, leading her a few steps away from the tree. When he would have let go of her hand to resume the proper position, she wove their fingers together.
“Let’s skip the formalities.”
Blake shuddered. Those words were as dangerous as this bloody dance—the cloak of night, her intoxicating proximity, the sweetness tickling his nose. And then there were her bright blue eyes, staring up at him with complete trust in their depths. He couldn’t deny her even if wanted to.
“Very well,” he said softly, drawing her closer, one hand resting on her hip.
She tilted her head toward him, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Shouldn’t you move?” she asked, her voice light and playful.
Blake swallowed. “Yes, I should, but I... don’t recall the steps.” And his legs wouldn’t move.
“Then . . .”
“You should lead this dance,” Blake said. “Or we might stand here like this the entire night.” Which also wouldn’t be so bad.
She blinked at him. “Me? Lead?”
He squeezed her hand. “You have more experience than I do.”
She suddenly burst out laughing. “Are you sure? Will your male pride not be wounded?”
What male pride? “In the absence of an audience, there is only you.”
With a mischievous smile, she lifted her other hand to his shoulder, and together they began the first steps. “Very well, but I shall take liberties since I might forget a sequence or two.”
He didn’t mind.
He shut his eyes for a moment, enjoying the moment, thefeeling.
“Is this all right? I’m taking liberty with the pace, too,” her soft voice came.
He opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over her face. He drew her closer, improperly so. “This is perfect.”
He mirrored her light steps, allowing her to steer him, his focus entirely on her. She swept to the side in a smooth turn, her feet gliding effortlessly along the grass. She didn’t seem to care that his limbs had taken on the stiffness of the branches overhead them. The way she looked up at him, the way her body fit so perfectly with his—it all made him feel as though they were part of something larger than the sum of their individual parts. Something inevitable. Something right.
“Oh!” She faltered on a step.
“You are doing perfectly.”
She laughed. “Are you sure?”
“Between the two of us, I believe there is no wrong way to dance the waltz.”
“Such romantic words.”
“If you find the truth romantic,” he murmured.
They were already so close, but he wanted her closer.
So much closer.
Blake’s hand at her waist shifted slightly, daring to draw her a bit nearer still, as they danced around the tree. Her lips partedas if to say something, but the words seemed to die on her tongue.
