‘One dance,’ he said, his voice vibrating over her skin.
She should have stepped out of his grasp, told him no. There were few moments when a merchant had that kind of power; it seemed a shame to waste one. But the warmth of his calloused hands through the fabric of her gown held her in place. ‘One dance,’ she breathed.
He led her in a small, slow circle, keeping time with the music drifting in from the square. It was not a dance she had ever performed before, but her feet followed his. Not one misstep between them.
The commander could dance.
‘Did your mother teach you to dance?’ Blake asked, suppressing a shiver as his hand moved a few inches up her spine.
‘Why do you ask?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m having difficulty picturing the warden doing so.’
He exhaled though his nose in place of laughter. ‘Yes, my mother taught me. Though it’s been a while.’
Her mind was mud, and she struggled to collect words. ‘Did you know I would follow you here?’
‘I hoped you would.’
She pressed her lips together when his fingers moved once more. ‘Is this the kind of dance where you kiss me at the end?’
His eyes searched hers. ‘Do you want me to kiss you at the end?’
Once again she was the merchant with her hand out, always in need of something. ‘Since when does a defender ask a merchant what they want?’
He drew her even closer, their feet still moving in sync. ‘Don’t do that.’
‘Speak the truth?’
‘Reduce this to a defender-merchant moment. I haven’t danced with a woman since I was ten.’
She swallowed and her feet stopped. Harlan took one extra step before stopping also.
‘Yesterday in the forest,’ she said, wishing she could bring more volume to her voice, ‘did you want to kiss me?’
He nodded. ‘Yes.’
She had no idea how to respond to the confession. Her inexperience was drowning her. ‘You could kiss me now if you wanted to.’
A moment stretched out between them before he stepped closer, his knee pushing hers, forcing her to step back. He kept going, as though it were part of the dance, guiding her backwards until her shoulders met the wall of the house. She sucked in a breath. Harlan stretched her arm higher still, pinning her hand to the wall. His chest was pressed against her pounding heart. His fingers trailed up her side, shoulder, and neck, settling along the curve of her jaw.
She waited, heart beating at twice the speed of his. He wet his lips and lowered his mouth to hers. It was hard and soft all at once. The scent of sage and salt enclosed her, and the taste of—
Harlan broke the kiss as the sound of laughter reached them. They both turned their heads as another couple rounded the corner of the house. The pair fell silent when they spotted Blake and the commander and retreated a beat later. Harlan pressed his forehead to Blake’s for a moment, his breaths coming faster than before the kiss. She did not know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
‘Return to the festival,’ he said. ‘I’ll follow shortly.’
She blinked. ‘Now?’
‘Yes, now.’ He released her and stepped back. ‘We can’t be seen leaving together.’
Blake was instantly cold with all that space now between them. Slowly, she straightened and smoothed down her dress, brought a finger to her lips where his had been moments earlier, wiping the edges where the paint might have strayed.
‘I’m on duty,’ he said as she stepped past.
She shook her head, eyes on the ground. ‘It’s all right. You… you don’t have to say anything else.’ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him run a hand down his face.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, just as she stepped into the light.
