“Show you what?”
“The dancing.”
“Well,” she said as she slid off the control table and brushed her hands together. “Without a dance partner, it’ll be a bit difficult.”
“Yes, but I need my lesson before I can partner with you,” he said as he leaned back, bringing up a knee to rest his elbow on.
She hadn’t meant…
Putting the image of dancing with him away to inspect later, she adjusted her posture. “All right, then. There are several kinds of dance, and many different arrangements. We are taught them all growing up so that we are skilled long before we ever present in public.”
“What kinds?”
“Oh, reels, quadrilles, cotillions. But my favorite is the waltz.”
Although some in Cinder thought the waltz would be the downfall of society, Isobel thought it romantic. Her fondness for it probably came from the fact that itwasfrowned upon by many. It was intimate in the way the other dances were not. The couple became isolated during it even while surrounded by other pairs. They’d embrace gracefully but not fully touching—the space left between them a yearning.
The idea of dancing such a way with Ved…
“Show me, Isobel Nott. I want to see this waltz,” Ved purred.
“Oh”—she cleared her throat as heat spiraled through her—"yes. Well, during a waltz, you usually stay with the same partner, soit will be easier for demonstration purposes anyway.” She placed her arms as if she were being held by a partner. “See, the man leads the dance. He also needs to ensure that we don’t run into any other couples, including anyone who is out of step.”
She began to hum a tune and spin. Even without a dance partner, it was easy to fall into the motions. She occasionally explained something that the gentleman would do, but otherwise, she was fully lost in her demonstration.
Ved’s gaze followed her, his foot occasionally tapping to the melody. When she finished, she bowed with a breathless laugh.
Then he stood up, rising to his full height with an unmatched grace. “Exxo,” he called. “Think you have that?”
“It was a challenge, but yes,” Exxo replied.
“Exxo!” Isobel beamed brightly, first at Ved and then at the ceiling as if she could find the artificial man there.
“We meet again, Isobel Nott,” he said.
“Under far better circumstances.”
“As you say, but I often enjoy an afternoon of being attacked by flesh-eating Kroids. I find it quite invigorating.”
Ved grumbled something under his breath, as if he deeply regretted their interaction. “Stay on task, Exxo.”
Exxo’s wit was so delightfully not of Dorsent that Isobel couldn’t help her laughter. Music picked up in its wake from somewhere in the ship, and she recognized it as the melody she’d hummed. He’d somehow captured the shape and fullness of the music that certainly hadn’t been in her rendition.
It was like magic.
Then Ved offered her his hand. Isobel’s gaze followed Ved’s gloved palm all the way up to his helmet. She shouldn’t. They’d been so good about not touching. Shaking her head, she curled her hand into a fist.
“You would deny me, then?” he asked with uncharacteristic softness. “You have no interest?”
“That’s not…” Damn it all, she shouldn’t have told him that particular detail. When she placed her hand into his, he pulled her into him possessively with a satisfied rumble. She made an embarrassing squeaking noise, then another as her hand rested against his firm chest. His very defined, warm, and muscular chest.
The heat from earlier surged and spread like a wildfire. Ved took the appropriate step forward, but she was so distracted and bothered that she didn’t step back.
“Am I doing it wrong?” His voice reverberated against her.
“No, that’s right.” It was the closest they’d been since the Kroids attacked—and, somehow, it felt entirely too comfortable, being this way now. It felt right. As if the Earth’s rotation had been slightly crooked all this time, and their proximity set it on its axis again.
He led her through three more steps before she lifted her palm from his chest. “It’s … it’s late, and I need to get back before anyone realizes I’m missing.”
