"Husband," Alexandra was a little disheveled, with a few delicate strands of hair curling on her face, and a bright color painting her cheeks. "That is not how the dance goes."
"Shouldnae I be followin' the music?" Hector asked innocently. "It felt like the right thing to do at the moment."
"Not at all. We do not hold hands in this waltz. We spin without touching, circling around the other couples." She had her hands on her hips and looked so exactly like a teacher trying to get a wayward class to behave that he had to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing. "Your Grace, do attend!"
"I am drinkin' in every word ye are saying, wife, I promise ye."
She stopped, a little taken aback, and then returned to her place. "Let us start again."
They went through the whole movement again, this time spinning around the imaginary other dancers without issue. Hector moved a little closer to her, smelling the sweetness of her fragrance and longing to take her in his arms the way a husband should be able to with a wife.
"We are too close again," Alexandra said, looking up at him. They were close enough that he could feel her warmth, almost touching. He was leaning over her, capturing every detail about her, all the beauty of her, the flecks of blue in her green eyes, the little golden hairs amongst her beautiful, dark mane. "You must remember not to stand so close, Hector."
"Och should I?" Hector said, bending a little closer, their faces so near to each other that there was an indescribable tenderness in his heart from it. "I have to say, me wife, ye daenae seem to mind all that much."
"I do mind, it is quite antithetical to my lessons!"
She didn't move. Neither did he. Being caught by her gaze felt like drowning.
"Ye are blushing, lass," he said softly, almost a whisper. "Yer feelings are painted across yer whole face."
She flushed even harder and ducked her head, taking her gaze from him. That was unacceptable. Hector reached out and touched her cheek lightly with one hand, gently encouraging her to look back up at him. He could see her chest rising and falling in short gasps and felt the same breathlessness himself. What magical spell was she casting over him? It was more potent than a full bottle of wine.
"Your Grace -"
Alexandra barely heard the shout from the door. She thought vaguely that it might be Laroux, something about the distinctive accent. But she couldn't bring herself to look away from Hector, from this strange, unearthly moment that they were sharing. It felt as though her heart was a bird trying to take wing from her chest.
"Your Grace, I am sorry to interrupt but there is an urgent message for you! You must come at once!"
Reality came crashing through the fragile moment between touch and an embrace that they had been caught in. Alexandra realized that they were touching, leaning towards each other, that the servants in the room hadseen her, that Laroux waslooking at this,and a cold panic washed the magic from her veins. She startled hard, pulling back, but Hector placed a large hand on her arm gently, soothing her like he might soothe a wild colt.
"What is it, Laroux?" he asked. His eyes were still on her face, keeping her attention on him, helping her focus. "We are occupied."
"It is Winters, Your Grace," Laroux said. Alexandra thought for a moment that he sounded aggrieved, perhaps apologetic. "He said you would want to speak to him, that his news cannot wait."
Hector frowned a little, the unusual expression marring his usually good-natured brow. "Thank you. I shall meet him in a moment. Take him to my study."
"Yes, Your Grace," Laroux said.
Alexandra thought perhaps he had left, but she could not be sure. The only thing keeping her from fleeing the room in embarrassment and confusion was the gentle touch of Hector's hand on her arm and the warmth in his eyes.
"I must go," he said softly. "We will continue with this later. It is nae that these lessons are nae important, me dear. This matter is urgent."
He seemed so anxious for her to understand that it made her head spin all the more. No man had ever apologized to her for the impact their actions had on her plans before. It was always understood that men's business was more important, that nothing she could have wanted would ever be the same.
Yet Hector was apologizing for leaving, trying to ensure she knew he prized her effort.
"I see," she said softly.
"Daenae trouble yerself, Alexandra," he said gently, stepping back from her. She felt the lack of his soothing presence immediately, but she was still finding it so hard to breathe steadily that the space helped a little. "I will manage the trouble and ye will nae have to be bothered by it. I shall be back with ye soon."
"Be careful," she said automatically. She wasn't even sure if it was a necessary warning, if he was in fact dealing with something dangerous instead of a simple business matter. Still, he smiled at her words, so she was glad that she said them. He turned and left the ballroom with giant strides, and air rushed back into her lungs as he closed the door behind him.
What was that? What - how did he make me feel like that?Alexandra moved to one of the chairs at the side of the room and sat, ignoring how the maids milled awkwardly. Perhaps it would have been kinder to reassure them, but she could barely reassure herself at the moment.
Was it just Hector's presence that affected her like this? She had certainly never felt anything so strong or overwhelming in the company of anyone else. What would that mean for them if he had that sort of power over her senses? What would it mean for her, for her safety?
"Your Grace?" It was Margot. Perhaps Laroux had sent her, or perhaps she was always carefully waiting somewhere just in case she was needed. "Can I bring you some tea in the drawing room?"
