A tiger. “The one you wrestled?” No snideness curled through my question this time.
He shrugged, that grin always on his face. “We’ve had our differences. As I’ve said, we’ve worked them out. Care to meet him?”
A tremble quaked through me and I jumped down to avoid falling. How did onemeeta tiger? Wrapping myself in the façade of indifference I normally wore around Jack Dorian, I gave a brief nod. “Why not?”
Jack’s eyes sparkled as if he saw through to my fear, and Iflashed a bright smile to prove him wrong. Yet as we approached the cat of immense proportions pacing in his cage, which seemed far too flimsy for my liking, I had to tuck my trembling fingers into the folds of my skirt to hide them.
I paused several feet from the thing and stared openly at this wild creature stolen from the jungles. Golden eyes watched me from a face of exotic stripes that spidered out from his nose and eyes. There was no welcome in his wild eyes, but a sort of bright, burning anger. Bitterness that seemed directed at me. A low rumble sounded in his throat as he advanced, gaze trained on me.Stay calm. He’s caged.Caged.
I swallowed.
“Rawr!”
I jumped. But Jack’s playfully crooked smile gave him away, and I dissolved into relieved laughter. Somehow he always managed to do that—drum up all the tension in the world, then pop it like a bubble. His smile widened, a huge, crinkly eyed grin that sparkled with good humor and merriment. I had to admit, I rather liked being around the man. He’d make a terrible suitor, but nothing was to say we couldn’t be friends.
“Now let’s return to our work, shall we?” He guided me back to the steps, where we ran through paces in the loft. Over and over, I moved through the combinations as he called them out from his lounging position against the wall. Then he rose and stopped me, hands on my shoulders. His nearness, all that bottled energy, unsettled me. “I’ve conquered your fear of heights and taken a chunk out of your tiger phobia. I’ve removed your audience. What other qualms might I wrestle to the ground for my lady?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“Then you should be dancing with all the confidence of theQueen of Sheba, yes? Not this hesitant, nearly apologetic show I see now.”
I huffed out a breath and sank to the straw. “I simply need to practice more. It takes time to become confident.”
“Horsefeathers.” In one acrobatic move, he dropped cross-legged in the straw, facing me with an unrelenting look. “Whatever you’re afraid of happens to be holding you back, so you might as well have it out. I cannot cure a problem you refuse to name.”
“I simply can’t remember all the combinations. Especially with people watching, noticing everything. There’s far too much happening at once to—”
“Psalms.”
“Pardon?”
“You’ve no trouble memorizing those, as I became victim—er, witness to, on the way here.”
“I’ve known those since I was a child.” For years I’d feasted on the words. Especially in times of darkness, I drank long sips from those pages, gulping down the passionate words of a young shepherd crying out to God in anger and in praise. So often my heart’s vague cries found a clear echo in David’s poetry.
“Perfect.” He smiled. “Simply pair your combinations to Psalms and see if you don’t sail through them when next you try.”
I blinked. Psalms. Yes, thePsalms. At last, I would mix God and ballet. My smile grew. “Mr. Dorian, I might just have to call you brilliant.”
“I accept.”
The challenges he gave in the hours that rushed on exhilarated me, yet they were nothing compared to the moment Jack threw wide those barn doors at the end of the day, and I caught my first glimpse of the silky night sky studded with stars and a glowing moon set like a diamond centerpiece.
“Now we’ll show you how circus folk spend their evenings.”
It gaped so big and wide, that fathomless sky, that my soul finally had a glimpse of the great God I attempted to serve.
It struck me briefly as the others clambered into the backs of two straw-filled wagons that I wouldn’t be returning to London that night, and my absence might be missed, but suddenly it didn’t matter. With a smile, I placed my hand in Jack’s and allowed him to pull me up behind him in the wagon.
“You wouldn’t care to work at the circus now, would you, lass?” The boisterous man called Doc bounced along beside me, his good-natured voice booming over the clatter of wheels and cart horses.
“I’ve a contract with the theater, actually.”
“Ah, ’tis a shame. You’ve a fine strength about you.”
“All I did was hold on, really.” My hands still ached from gripping that absurd wooden trapeze bar. I’d likely have blisters to match the ones I’d had on my feet.
His mustache curved up over his smile. “Wasn’t speaking of your arms, lassie.” He threw his head back to drink in the night air, arms behind his head. “You’re quite a spitfire, but you’d have to be, putting up with the likes of Jack Dorian. Just like my Gretchen here.” He jostled the slender woman beside him.
