“We were. I think we laughed the entire song.”
“We’re laughing now.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “True, but look how much more graceful we are. Especially you. Have you been practicing?”
Every inch of my skin flushes at his praise. I shrug. “I think I’m merely more comfortable in this body. I did learn the steps long ago.”
“Right. During your debut season.”
“My season ended before the first ball.”
“Shame on everyone else for missing out on your company. If only your enemies could see you now, a goddess of grace.”
I scoff. “Goddess?”
“The polka.”
A squeal leaves my lips as he increases our tempo and transitions us into another skipping dance. This time, he leads us off the dance floor and straight for the perimeter, which is crowded with tables and chairs. I gasp as we skip along, Monty expertly leading every twist and hop around the furnishings. Then he does the last thing I’m prepared for.
He leaps onto one of the chairs. Before I can collide with it, he reaches for my waist, hefts me up, and plants me on the chair next to him. From there, he steps onto the table and pulls me up after him, where we seamlessly continue our polka. Thankfully, this portion of the room hasn’t been set up for the wedding yet, so the tabletops are bare and free from items we could damage or trip over.
My heart slams against my ribs, both from my surprise and the pace of our dance. After we skip across the table, Monty leads me down the chairs, to the floor, then onto the next table over. His shoes slide on the surface, but he manages to keep his balance.
“This is dangerous,” I say, my cheeks aching from how much I’m laughing.
“But so much fun.” His grin is as wide as mine, taking years off his visage. “I see the way you leap on your furnishings at home. It feels a lot like how you move when you’re a pine marten, doesn’t it? That’s why you do it.”
My cheeks grow hot. “You noticed?”
He nods, his dimples deeper than ever. “It’s cute.”
Cute. I may have been offended at being called cute when I was a pine marten, but now…
Now it makes me feel seen in a way I never have before. He’s seen and known both sides of me. The little fae creature. The woman who isn’t quite at home in her body. He’s witnessed those sides collide when I’m in the comfort of my home…and thinks it’s cute.
Something warm and bright spreads through my chest, my limbs.
“The waltz,” Monty says, and we return to our previous dance, shifting and swaying upon the table. With our foot space now limited, I step in closer to Monty, the fronts of our bodies only inches apart. His hand moves lower down my back, making my breath hitch. I’m suddenly aware of the heat of his palm, the firmness of his shoulder beneath my hand, the feel of the two hands we hold clasped together.
I can’t tear my gaze from his face, from the intensity in his gray eyes, the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, the bob of his throat, the nearness of his lips. I’m struck by the urge to taste them, to run my tongue over his bottom lip and drag my teeth over it. To press our mouths together and breathe in the scent of him?—
He lowers his head and heaves a sigh, our dance slowing to stillness. “It’s late.” His words come out rough, and it takes him an extra moment to release my hand. The palm at my back is the last to come away as he takes a slow step back. Though the mirth hasn’t left his face, there is something like fatigue in his eyes. Fatigue or…regret, perhaps? “We should retire to our rooms. It’s past midnight.”
“It is?” I blink at the ballroom with fresh eyes. I hadn’t realized I’d been drawing so long.
He hops down from the table and offers his hand to me. I take it, and he helps me down, even though I don’t really need his aid.
“I’ll come see you tomorrow, after I’ve fulfilled more best man duties,” he says as we return to my canvas. “We can go over our lesson plan.”
My mind is slow to process his words. “Oh, right. The case study.”
“The case study,” he echoes, a distant quality to his voice. This time I know for certain there’s regret in his tone, but he shakes the mood away as I gather up my supplies. “Speaking of, do you have any requests for the lessons you’d like to demonstrate?”
I grimace.
“You still haven’t read my book?”
“I will.”
