Page 41 of Her Royal Houseguest

‘What?’

‘Your dances. For fun. You will teach me them.’

‘Oh! Well, you can receive dancing instruction from any number of—’

‘No. You will teach me.’

She stared at him, slowly shaking her head. ‘I am not the best teacher. And you can’t learn in the middle of a ball.’

She matched his gaze, clearly hoping he would relent. He would not. Here was a significant difference between their two people, and he wanted to understand it. They did not dance to teach each other their holy stories. They danced for fun and he wanted to try it.

This, of course, was unusual for him. Never before had he attempted something new in public. He was one who mastered a task before allowing anyone else to see.

But if he delayed learning this thing, she would find him a better teacher. He did not want anyone else. He would do this thing in public so that he could touch her.

‘Very well. I suppose I could explain a—’

‘That dance,’ he abruptly said as he pointed to the floor. ‘I want to learn that one.’

‘A waltz.’

‘Yes. A waltz.’

That dance brought man and woman together. The steps did not appear too difficult and it would allow for closeness between bodies that was not possible otherwise.

She flashed him a look that he could not read and he wondered if she would argue. How inappropriate were his demands?

‘Very well,’ she finally said. ‘Watch the steps now while I inform our hosts what you want.’ Then she paused. ‘You should rightly dance with our hostess, or her daughter as it is her come out ball.’

‘You will instruct me.’ Then he thought of an excuse to do what he wanted. ‘I would not give insult to them by dancing badly.’

She arched her brow. ‘And if I am insulted?’

‘You will be my instructor. If I dance badly, it is your fault.’

She snorted, an indelicate sound that he found he liked. ‘I see you have it all figured out.’

She gave him a quick curtsey before crossing to their hosts. He watched her go, comparing her manner of dress with that of Siamese women. The English hid more of their bodies but he liked the swirl of fabric around Lady Anna’s form. It teased the eye with mystery rather than cloth that pressed tight to breast and hip.

He watched as their hostess shot him a look of surprise. Just how much of a spectacle was he about to make? He lifted his chin rather than admit to any doubt. Best pay attention to the way the dance was performed.

All too soon she was back, her manner deferential as she gestured him to the dance floor. He escorted her in the manner he had seen other English gentlemen perform. He extended a hand and she put hers in his. The other dancers separated to give them room, stepping back as Lady Anna quickly explained the steps of the dance.

Then she set his hand on her body, curled around her waist, while clasping her other hand in his.

‘One, two, three. One, two, three.’ She met his gaze. ‘Do you understand?’

‘Siamese dances are much more complicated,’ he said. ‘One, two, three, is not difficult.’

He did not mean to be curt. He already regretted his actions. And yet, she stood in the circle of his arms now. He smelled her scent, saw the pink flush to her cheeks and had the absolute joy of looking straight into her eyes.

They were a changeable color. Brown and gold, like the earth and all her riches wrapped into one woman. She did not lower her gaze as would be appropriate and he smiled at her boldness.

‘One, two, three,’ he said as the music began.

‘One, two, three,’ she echoed.

They began to move. He took the steps boldly because that was his nature. She matched him because that, apparently, was hers. Two people moving in tandem. Not in lockstep but adjusting to one another. He shortened his stride for her. She lifted onto her toes for him. They worked at it together until it became easy.