And they waltzed.
They danced one whole turn about the alcove while it seemed the music became part of them and her eyes lost both the laughter and the anxiety and they simply gazed at each other and into each other.
Reality was still reality, of course. They did not, as they might have done in a fairy tale, suddenly waltz out from the alcove to twirl all about the ballroom while everyone else watched in wonder. But…they had danced. They had waltzed. Together.
Something drew Ben’s glance upward. A sprig of mistletoe hung from the ceiling at the very center of the alcove.
“Ah,” he murmured to her while he could still stand. “And for this I do not even have to beg permission. Christmas has handed me its own special permit.”
He kissed her, wrapping both arms about her waist while she twined her own about his neck. And then they smiled at each other, and for the moment he felt invincible. But only for a moment.
“If I do not sit down immediately or sooner,” he told her, “someone is going to have to scoop me up from the floor and bear me ignominiously hence.”
And then they were sitting side by side again, their shoulders touching, hand in hand, their fingers laced. And they were both laughing as she tipped her head sideways to set her cheek against his shoulder.
“That was probably the shortest, most ungainly waltz ever danced,” he said.
“And that was perhaps the shortest, most glorious kiss ever enjoyed beneath the mistletoe,” she said.
He rested his cheek briefly against her dark curls. “I loved you before I left here in the summer, Samantha,” he said. “I did not mean to fall in love with you. It did not seem quite fair when I came with you to protect you. But it happened anyway. And my feelings have not changed.”
“Oh, youprovokingman,” she said after several moments of silence between them while the waltz proceeded in the ballroom beyond their little haven. “How dare you stop there. You cannot stop there, Ben.”
He turned his head and grinned down at her. “I was giving you the chance to stop me if you did not want me to embarrass myself further,” he said.
“Oh, no,” she said. “Iwantyou to embarrass yourself.”
“Wretch,” he said. “Will you marry me?”
He heard her swallow.
“Hmm,” she said, her voice a little higher-pitched than usual. “Let me see. I will have to think about this.”
“Right,” he said. “I will go away for another six months while you do so.”
She laughed softly and lifted her head so that she could turn her face to his. Her eyes were shining, he could see in the light of the chandeliers beyond the alcove. Shining with unshed tears.
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
They gazed at each other for a few moments, and then they were in each other’s arms again and laughing—oh, yes, and shedding more than a tear apiece too.
“I love you,” she said, her breath warm against his ear. “Oh, Ben, I havemissedyou. I have missed you so very much.”
He drew back his head and smiled at her.
Samantha. His love.
Ah, the wonder of it.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked her.
She raised her eyebrows.
“For ripping up at you the day we met,” he said, “and swearing most foully. You never said I was.”
