She looked at him in surprise.
“We do seem to be dressed up,” he pointed out, “and there is music.”
“Are you asking me to dance?” Abigail said, her eyes wide.
“On the contrary, I—well, yes, I suppose I am,” Roan said, though he was just as surprised as she was. Where had this notion come from? Dream Roan was apparently bolder than he gave himself credit for.
“I would love to,” Abigail said. Her eyes shone brightly as she accepted his hand and he swept her into a dance. Perhaps dream Roan was on to something, though, because Roan couldn’t remember a time when he had felt more free as he pulled Abigail into his arms and into a dance.
“You can dance?” she asked in surprise as his arm wrapped around her waist and he started twirling her around in a dance.
“I can,” he said. “My mother always thought that we were better off than we were and seemed to think that the local nobility would be inviting us to their events. So she had Nathaniel and I learn how to dance.”
“Did you ever go?” Abigail asked.
“Not once,” Roan said dryly as he twirled her out and then back in. Her eyes lit up every time he did so, and he found himself captivated by it.
When had she become so beautiful? This was Abigail, for heaven’s sake. She was his employee, and he owed it to her to remain professional. But as the occupants of the tavern cheered them on while they twirled around the room, Roan couldn’t quite find it in himself to remain professional when all he could see was her.
She even smelled good, he noticed. He’d never quite gotten close enough before to realize she smelled like lavender and honey, and he fought the urge to lean in and take a deep breath of her hair. What did she wash it with? They’d been trapped here long enough that any scent she’d worn should have faded away.
“We’ll figure it out,” she promised him, meeting his eyes with a determined look. “I know you’re worried. I am, too, but I know that you and I will figure it out. We’re too stubborn not to.”
“I worry for them,” he said, looking around the room at all the people he spent most of his time with.
Abigail closed her eyes and reached up to press her finger to his lips as she whispered, “Shush. That’s a problem for the morning.”
Her finger was warm against his lips.
Her eyes opened wide and she immediately pulled her hand back, trying to pull away from him.
He didn’t let her.
“I’m sorry,” she began to say, but Roan shook his head.
“Don’t be.” His voice was rough, and he couldn’t get anything else out.
But she couldn’t regret that. He wouldn’t let her.
She turned pink and nodded, but she didn’t say anything else.
The song finished then, and they pulled away from each other to applause from all the men in the tavern.
“Go back to your drinks, you fools,” Roan said, as Abigail blushed and looked away shyly. He didn’t need her feeling self-conscious, not when that dance had been the most wonderful moment he’d had in years.
Now he just had to convince her to do it again.
Chapter six
Abigail
Themorningdawnedbrightand early, and Abigail’s peace was disturbed by a wet nose sniffing in her ear.
“Good morning, Beastie,” she said with a sigh as a wet tongue began to lick her face. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to let me sleep for another twenty minutes?” she asked.
No such luck, as the dog padded toward the back door, having successfully woken her.
Abigail sighed and got to her feet, heading toward the back door and opening it to let Beastie out to do her business, leaving it cracked open so she could let herself back in.
