I met his earnest gaze and blushed.Never in my life did I think a gentleman like Edmund would ask me to dance, as if I were a delicate society flower.I was too rough in my manners, too cynical, too willing to turn everything into a joke.I wasn’t sweet and pretty like Christabella.Yet here Edmund was, his hand still outstretched, smiling at me like we were in the sparkling ballroom of a romance novel.
Slowly, I put my hand in his.His palm was large and smooth, and he gently set his other hand on my waist.Heat bloomed from the contact, spreading until I was engulfed in pleasant warmth.He guided me forward, to the left, then back.
“What dance is this?”I whispered, not wanting to break the fragile moment.
Edmund smiled.“The waltz.”
The waltz.In Witch Village.I almost laughed.“You don’t want to do the Harvest dance?”
He glanced at the others around the fountain, jumping and spinning to the lively song.“I don’t know.I think I might tear a seam.”
“I’ll mend it,” I said quickly.
Edmund pulled me closer.“You do enough.”
***
WHEN THE MUSIC STOPPED, I felt starry-eyed and cloud-footed.This must’ve been what the moon felt like floating in the evening sky.
“Giselle, did you bring the flatbread?”Ma’s reedy voice broke me from my daze, sharp and staccato.I blinked and turned.She was walking toward me, her mouth set in a thin line and her brows furrowed.
“What flatbread?You told me to get the pies,” I said.
“They’re on the counter,” Ma continued as if I hadn’t said anything at all.“In the covered basket.”
I resisted the urge to groan.She had only told me to grab the pies this morning, not the flatbread, and now I had to hike all the way back up to the house.
“I need to keep an eye on Edmund,” I said.
“I’ll keep an eye on him.It’s better if you stay away from that human,” Ma said.“He’s untrustworthy.”
I sputtered.Edmund was mere paces away, helping himself to a glass of punch.I sincerely hoped he hadn’t heard her.Or if he had, that he wouldn’t take offense.“Everyone else seems to like him enough,” I argued in a whisper.“You introduced him to everyone.How can you say he’s untrustworthy?Do you think he’s going to destroy the village?”
“Not the village, Giselle,” Ma said.“You.Your reputation.”
“Don’t act like you care about me,” I said, unable to hold this back.“Why does it matter if I associate with Edmund in public?You think I embarrass this family anyway.”
Ma pinched her brows—the same expression she’d worn during our confrontation on the stairs.This time, without tears to blur my vision, she really did look stricken.“I do care, Giselle,” she said.
“I don’t like your way of caring,” I snapped, and stormed away from the square.
