He was staring at her, not at the room. Neither of them were paying a wit of attention to anything outside of their arms, oblivious to the whispers that followed them, to the stares and shaking heads as Miranda mingled with the tainted. “Is that a challenge, Miss Wilde?”
Miranda swallowed. This was banter. Somehow they had started flirting. Her lips parted and she drifted in the exhilaration. Her mother insisted that dancing was the quickest way to judge if a man was suitable. Until now Miranda had not believed her.
She was caught up in the music, in the moment, lost in how easy it felt to move in step with him. Another spin toward the far end of the floor, but this time he had gently lifted her, her delicate shoes wafting across the floor. A laugh bubbled from her chest, forcing her lips into a true, beaming smile. The sort of genuine smile that refused to be anything but happiness.
Devin paused a step, but recovered smoothly. His gaze grew somber, as his grip on her shifted, almost like fidgeting. But that was impossible. What about her could have possibly made someone of his experience falter? Not her laughter or smile, that was too juvenile. Maybe the sudden shift had nothing to do with her.
His steps had slowed, his movements more stilted. She met his eyes and wished she hadn’t. Her legs nearly stopped altogether. Then he licked his lips andMiranda felt it. Like a bolt of lightning in her gut that jolted through her limbs before settling low, low in her stomach. She chewed the corner of her mouth.
He stopped as the notes to the song died away and melded into another. They’d draw attention standing like this. If the wholeroom wasn’t already aware of the scandalous dance she’d just experienced. She felt stripped to her core. Naked and exposed. Hot and shaky. Like she’d just done something extremely vulgar in public. And, for a moment, she didn’t care or want it to end.
He cleared his throat, but didn’t pull away. “I believe this is our stop,” he said, a hint of something affecting his tone, voice almost gravelly. He cleared his throat again and began to loosen his hold on her. He stepped away.
Miranda let him slip through her hands. She didn’t fight it. Her body felt like partially set gelatin. And slowly the sound of the ball grew loud again. Her ears rang as notes and the dull roar of conversation rose around her. They were near the far end of the room. Far from the assault of the nosy widows. Right next to a door that would lead further into the house.
Right. The plan. Her sister. Graves.
Miranda shook her head. This is exactly what she could not allow to happen. She stuck out a hand and balanced on the wall. Maybe inviting him was not a good idea. She couldn’t be expected to do what was necessary when she felt likethis.
“After you,” Devin prompted.
Miranda pulled herself together. It was too late now. She gave herself a firm pinch on the inner part of her arm, hoping to ground herself in something real that wasn’t the dream-like stupor of their dance. She huffed as they slipped from the ballroom. Hopefully, leaving whatever hovered between them on the dance floor.
Hopefully.
Chapter Six
Thedancehadbeena mistake. Devin held back as Miranda charged ahead to vacate the dance floor. Whispers lingered in their wake, narrowed eyes sticking to Devin as Miranda drew further from his tainted company. He briefly mumbled something about drawing attention and that they should separate to meet again once inside the secluded hallways that branched off the main ballroom.
Miranda agreed, her cheeks still red and a dazed cast to her eyes as she proceeded in the opposite direction.
Devin nodded his head at each gawking stranger, though it was getting harder not to grind his teeth or lash out. He’d been such a fool.
Once clear of onlookers, Devin found Miranda and she hastened to keep moving. The house was a labyrinth of identical obsidian hallways, and the shimmery surfaces sent reflections bouncing everywhere. It was not the sort of place one could navigate in a stupor. He narrowly avoided a wall several timesthinking it was an open path. If they had any hope of succeeding, he needed to focus.
Yet, he was too torn for focus. One half of Devin was still dancing with Miranda, lost in the sea of possibility that had expanded before him when before there had been a straight and focused river.
The other festered in the bitterness of ‘I told you so.’ He didn’t belong here and his association risked her reputation. Society was quick to turn, their opinions lost on a whim, and the scandal of involvement with Devin, no matter what honorary titles he now possessed, would seep into every relationship in his life. Which is why he was better off in the Fells. Amongst his own kind.
He wished his mother never taught him those steps. She taught him the quick, fluid steps to haunting fae melodies and the precise, sweeping ballroom dances that were expected at society parties. Dancing with her was of the few memories he had that didn’t haunt him. When they danced, their loft hadn’t felt so small and stifling. If he hadn’t learned, however, he might have been spared all this doubt.
Because Miranda had defended him, she’d laughed with him, she’d ignored the voices and sneers and his heart yearned for hope.
Hope was dangerous. He’d learned to never trust a good thing over the years, it sooner came back to bite him.
The dance had changed everything. Exposed the risk of his feelings as well as showed him exactly why he had never attempted relationships with the nobility. It wasn’t fair to expose Miranda to that sort of derision. She purported defiance and rebelliousness, but could she really handle the loss of her entire social structure?
Her laughter tore his swagger to shreds. Disarmed him in a way no other woman ever had. He should turn around now andrun before she squirmed her little claws any further into his carefully crafted asylum of revenge and self-loathing. Or…
He could see just how far Miranda was willing to go.
Chasing her would have made him the worst sort of rogue. She’d risk her whole future debasing herself with a rake who could never offer more than what a night and a bed might allow.
Except, now he had danced with her. He’d held her in his arms and looked into her green eyes as everything shifted. As lust bloomed into more. As all his fears caught up with him, because in that moment he’d have happily ignored every voice of reason just to make her laugh one more time.
Devin tore his eyes from the back of her head. He needed to stop mooning and get his shit together.
“This place is a maze,” Miranda said with a huff, “We’re lucky we haven’t been caught yet.” She turned abruptly and they nearly collided. His face within inches from hers and more dangerous thoughts started tumbling through his head. What if he kissed her? If he leaned in and tested how far Miranda might be willing to fall with him?
