“I’m not a good dancer,” I said quickly.
“I don’t care.”
“I’ll step on your feet. Probably multiple times. You’ll regret asking.”
“I won’t.” His amber eyes held mine, and his hand remained extended, waiting.
I took it and rose from my seat.
He led me to the dancing area near the bonfire, where we were surrounded by other couples, all moving to the music. Raoul’s hand settled on the back of my waist, warm through my tunic. I placed my hand on his shoulder, savoring the flex of solid muscle there.
We started moving.
I was hyperaware of every point of contact. His heat seeped through my clothes, warming me quickly. His strong arms guided me through the steps, and I kept looking up at him, finding him watching me.
“See?” he said, his voice low. “You’re doing fine.”
I stepped on his foot.
“Completely fine,” he said, his lips twitching.
The music changed, slowing into a gentle tune. The other couples shifted closer together, and Raoul pulled me in until barely any space remained between us.
I should protest. We’d agreed on a professional partnership, with appropriate distance and practical arrangements.
I didn’t say a word.
My weather magic responded to my emotions like it always had. A breeze swirled around us, stirring my hair and his. A few snowflakes drifted down from above, twinkling in the firelight. The temperature fluctuated from warm to cool, then warm again.
If Raoul noticed, he didn’t comment. He just kept moving with me, kept holding me, kept looking at me like I was special.
The song ended, but we didn’t pull apart. Another began, faster this time, and we kept dancing.
Multiple dances blurred together. I lost track of howmany songs were played, how many times we circled the fire. All I could focus on was the tension growing between us.
The final dance ended with a flourish from the fiddle.
We stood in place, both breathless, still holding each other. The bonfire had burned low, coals glowing red-orange. Around us, villagers were heading to their homes, calling goodnight.
Our hands remained joined.
“We should…” I wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.
“Yes.”
We turned toward our cottage and walked in charged silence. The cottage door loomed ahead.
His arm brushed mine as he reached for the latch, and a jolt went through me. The door swung inward, opening into a square of darkness.
I stepped over the threshold, my boots scuffing on the stone floor. Raoul followed, closing the door behind us with a quiet click that echoed in the tiny space. The room, which had seemed cozy before, felt impossibly small, overflowing with everything we weren’t saying.
Moonlight spilled through the single window, painting a silver rectangle on the floor and illuminating the bed against the far wall. Neither of us moved. We stood in the cool darkness, the sound of our breathing the only noise in the world.
“Adele,” he said, his voice a rough, frayed thing.
I turned to face him. In the gloom, his features were a landscape of shadows, but I didn’t need to see his expression. I could feel it radiating from him like heat from the bonfire, wrapping around me, pulling me in.
“Professional partnership,” I whispered.
