Alexander frowned. “That seems like an odd example.”
“And yet, you understood it,” Beatrice said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to teach me to dance much more easily than Guinevere could teach me to use magic.”
“I think you’ll learn quickly,” Alexander said. “You seem to be good at thinking on your feet.”
His voice grew quieter as they stood there, poised to begin but unmoving.
“I would love to dance with you at our second wedding,” Beatrice said softly. “So hopefully, it will be easy enough for me to learn.”
“I think it will be,” he replied.
“You already said that,” Beatrice teased, her lips curling into her ever-present smile.
“Did I?” Alexander asked. For some reason, he felt breathless. Why couldn’t he move?
“I think this is where you spin me,” Beatrice said. “But I’m not the expert.”
Alexander nodded. “Yes, this is where the dancing begins. And this is the proper position, is it not?”
“It is,” Beatrice replied. “At least, I think so.”
He couldn’t explain why he was frozen. Something about holding her like this—standing so close to a beautiful woman who smiled up at him with such trust—rendered him unable to move.
Perhaps, for the first time in his life, he wanted something more than just a fleeting moment.
“You want to dance?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yes,” Beatrice replied, her eyes twinkling.
Her gaze seemed to acknowledge how ridiculous he was being, and he knew it too. Why couldn’t he just start?
Maybe he needed to kiss her first. Maybe that would fix everything.
“I… don’t know what to say,” he began.
“I think it’s as simple as telling me which way my foot is supposed to go,” Beatrice replied, a saucy smirk on her face.
Alexander shook his head. “Not the dancing part. The rest of it.”
She must have understood what he meant because her smile softened.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “We can just dance. We’ll have the rest of our lives to say things.”
Alexander could barely breathe. Why did she have to be so wonderful?
He leaned down, and she pressed closer. The world seemed to stop as the distance between them vanished inch by inch—
Until the door to the dining room swung open, and Dietrich popped in.
Alexander turned and glared at the man, who, for perhaps the first time, looked genuinely repentant.
“I’m sorry,” Dietrich said. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.” He grimaced, glancing between Alexander and Beatrice. “Sorry. I’ll just… go.”
The man practically ran out of the sitting room, and Beatrice started giggling.
“He has the worst timing,” she said.
Alexander sighed. “He does, doesn’t he?”
