This was part of his duty—nothing more and nothing less. His duty was to teach Nin to survive among the nobles, and it so happened that survival required dancing.
Cedric cleared his throat, his palms unusually clammy as he made his way toward Nin’s quarters. Unfortunately, one of his training sessions with the guards had gone longer than he had expected.
For the first time, he was late.
He wouldn’t blame her if she had retired for the evening. The hour drew near ten o’clock, and he suspected Lucille had also taken her leave. When he approached the door, he placed his ear against the wood to hear if there was any movement or sound.
Nothing.
He softly knocked, hoping he wouldn’t wake her if she were asleep.
“Come in!”
He entered as Nin stretched across the bed, a history book in one hand, while the other petted a snoring Bijou. Lucille was nowhere to be seen.
Nin didn’t look up. Her attention remained fixed on the pages, her lashes lowered in concentration, as though the worldhad faded around her. Firelight bathed her in a soft, warm glow, highlighting the crease in her brow and the slight curve of her rosy lips.
For a moment, Cedric had forgotten his purpose there, lingering longer than he should have as he drank in her serene expression. He swallowed hard, disturbed by his disloyal, faltering heart.
Steeling himself, he extended his hand. “Are you ready?”
She turned a page, placed a bookmark within, before swinging her legs over the bed. Her expression turned bashful. “Yes, but I can’t say your feet are.”
One brow rose quizzically. “Pardon?”
“They’re not ready for how much I’ll be stepping on them,” she said with a cheeky grin.
He expelled an amused huff and beckoned her forward. “I’m certain they’ll recover.”
She stood, and her floral robe trailed behind her. A blue dress matching her eyes peeked from the neckline. The simplicity of it highlighted her delicate features: the curve of her smile, the fullness of her cheeks from eating proper meals, and the mischievous sparkle in her eye. As the firelight flickered, it revealed the full measure of her natural radiance.
Her hand slipped into his offered one—soft and warm—and he regretted noticing how much her touch affected him.
Focus.
He was here to instruct her to dance, not to be distracted by the unsettling spark coursing through his arm.
“Now,” he started, taking a step back. “We’ll start with the Grand Measure.This is the most—”
“Popular dance at court,” she supplied quickly. “I know. I’ve read the rules of the steps.”
His mouth quirked. “Perhaps, but performing them is an entirely different matter.”
Cedric guided her to the center of the room. “The Grand Measure requires reverence and skill,” he explained, demonstrating the bow that started the dance. One foot slid back, and he dipped low with his head inclined. “A show of respect for your partner.”
He had to suppress a smile when Nin performed an exaggerated curtsy in return.
Cedric began the steps slowly, emphasizing where to pause. With a fluid motion, he glided forward, brought his feet together, paused, and then stepped diagonally into the turn.
“Forward, step, close, and pause,” he instructed. “Step, then turn.”
When she mimicked the actions, her timing was off, but her movements were earnest as she bit her lip in concentration. She stumbled over the edge of the rug but laughed with a pure, carefree sound at her misstep. Twirling, she clapped, giggling under her breath when she performed another spin.
“Remember, every step is deliberate. The pauses matter just as much. Don’t rush them,” he instructed.
She nodded, and Cedric watched as she adjusted her movements. Her timing improved, and her steps became more fluid and graceful after their fifth attempt. Despite her initial clumsiness, he was pleased to see her dance effortlessly.
“Well done,” he said.
