Ambrosia was surprised to see the Wootens on the floor dancing, along with a few other familiar faces, people whose names she could not remember. She and Dash simply stood watching as the line dance was already well under way and seemed somewhat complicated.
But then the music shifted. The line dancers drifted apart, and the musicians spun a slower melody—sweeping and romantic, full of longing. Couples began pairing off in earnest now, swaying and turning, arms entwined beneath the lanterns that swayed gently above the green.
“Did you dance much, before…?” Dash asked, his voice low and warm near her ear.
“No.” By the time Ambrosia had been old enough to attend any of the village assemblies, her father had already passed. And without him… her mother rarely had the heart to go out.
She lifted one shoulder slightly, a quiet resignation in the gesture. “I never learned.”
“Mon dieu, pas possible.” He spun her gently to face him, one brow arched in mock alarm. “A world where you have never danced? It should not exist.”
But his smile softened as he looked at her, the jest giving way to something quieter. “We must right this great injustice at once.”
Before she could protest—or flee—Dash pulled her a step closer, capturing one of her hands and placing the other on his shoulder. “I will teach you,” he murmured.
“Oh, no.” She dropped her gaze. “In front of all these people? It would be too embarrassing.”
His hand was already at the small of her back, warm and certain. “Chin up,” he said softly. “Eyes on me.”
She could not look anywhere else.
Her feet, uncertain at first, obeyed the subtle pressure of his hand, stepping backward as he guided her along. She thought she was picking up the rhythm for a second, but then she stumbled. Laughed, tried again.
“I cannot.” But she was still smiling, still continued moving, taking halting steps backward at his insistence. Then he tugged her forward. She couldn’t help but burst into laughter again—more joyful than embarrassed.
He laughed too—low and delighted—as he tugged her close, then sent her in a dizzying spin. “That’s it,” he said, voice rough with something she didn’t dare name. “You’ve got it.”
The world melted into the music. A handsome man was holding her in his arms. Stringed instruments wove their tune around them, and overhead the lanterns painted soft golden halos in the darkening sky.
“Is this the waltz?” she asked, breathless. “Winifred said it was scandalous. That it was made by the devil himself.”
Dash chuckled. “I’ll be sure to thank him, then.” His tone was teasing, but his gaze… oh, his gaze was not.
She should have blushed. Should have pulled back. But her heart was soaring, and her limbs felt light as air. She was in his arms and—for just this moment—she didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.
As her confidence grew, he guided her closer to the other couples, to the heart of the music. Still holding her hand, still watching her like she was the only thing in the world worth watching.
“I am stomping on your toes,” she admitted ruefully but he simply held her closer. When the music halted again, he didn’t release her but waited until it began again, this time an even slower melody.
Magic. This night was pure magic.
The steps came more easily as the night wore on, and there was nowhere for her to look but into his eyes. Both of their smiles faded, but something passed between them, an understanding that each breath together was special—meant for the two of them. This night would never be forgotten.
“I will miss you, princesse.” The words were spoken softly, as though his throat had tightened with emotion.
“I will miss you, Dashwood Cochran Étienne Philippe Jean-Baptiste Louis Beckman.”
His eyes widened, but then he shook his head and held her closer.
Improperly close, but she didn’t care. The night would come to an end soon enough. As she felt his lips brush the side of her face, she turned and pressed her face into his chest. Inhaling, she memorized the texture of his shirt and jacket, the spicy scent that was a blend of soap and sweat that somehow managed to be more alluring than any cologne she’d ever known. And then she pressed a kiss onto his shirt front.
When the music ended, they both remained in each other’s arms. “Shall we walk back by ourselves, princesse?”
The evening was almost over, but she wanted to take every moment that she could.
“Unless you are too tired? Or is it that you would prefer to stay?” he asked when she didn’t answer right away.
“No, it’s all right. A walk back with just the two of us sounds lovely. Let’s go home.”
