Page 33 of Wolf's Bane
“I know dance was on the syllabus at school,” she said.
“For girls, maybe.”
“We went to the same school, and there were plenty of boys in my dance class. Now, stop rushing me. Count if you must.” She stepped back, letting Luis take the lead. She knew that he was not clumsy or physically awkward. Perhaps socially, but she had witnessed his archery skills. He possessed hand-eye coordination. He just had to ignore the people watching.
With each turn, he grew more confident. By the end of the song, he moved with the skill and grace of a hunter. Breathless, she allowed herself to be led to the side.
“The next dance is mine,” a firm voice said. Alek wore his usual tailcoat, though sponged cleaned, and his cravat tied sloppily, but he was a most welcomed sight.
Without waiting for her response, he took her hand and swept her back onto the floor. He held her closer than proper, his eyes fixed on hers, and they moved together like familiar partners. Her body remembered his touch from when they sparred in their youth. She anticipated his motions, meeting him for every turn and twirl.
A thread seemed to connect them, drawing them closer than physical touch, though her skin tingled and fizzed where they touched.
Her eyes drank in the flush to his cheeks, the hungry look in his eyes.
He licked his lips, his fierce gaze never leaving her face. Her breath fluttered in her throat, suddenly overwhelmed.
The crowd vanished. Even the music vanished. Her beating heart provided the melody.
Eventually, she realized they stood still.
“The music stopped,” Alek said.
“Did it?”
The moment felt too big to be contained. Her body hummed with excitement. She needed to catch her breath. She needed to sit for a moment.
She needed more.
Another voice interrupted. “Do you require a chair? A bit of air?” Colonel Chambers held out a glass of punch.
“I…” Alek tugged at this cravat, pulling the knot undone. His lips twisted, half sneer and half growl. He gave a clipped bow and left.
“Well,” Chambers said, watching Alek’s retreat, “I’d ask you to dance, but you look overtired. Perhaps I can show you the view of the garden from the terrace? There was a matter I wished to discuss with you.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled, accepting the punch and, by extension, the invitation to the terrace. Chambers wanted privacy, and she dreaded the reason.
A quick look around the room and she found Godwin watching them with interest.
She followed Chambers to the terrace, each step feeling like a march toward her execution.
The cool night air was a welcomed relief from the heat of the house’s interior. Her eyes fluttered shut as she took a breath. She could do this.
Amiable and amenable. All the qualities one wanted in a wife.
Chambers placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to a secluded corner. She jumped, spilling the punch over her hand.
“Not to worry. These things happen. The cup was filled to the brim.” Chambers produced a handkerchief and cleaned up the punch. He held her hand in his a bit too long, watching her reaction rather than the task.
Solenne tried to be gracious or beatific or however the heroines appeared in those novels she read when being doted on by a man they were expected to marry. Enthralled? Excited at being alone? Not the leaden weight she felt in her stomach.
His touch was unbearable. Wrong. Her skin crawled, not at all the way how it tingled and fizzed at Alek’s touch.
Chambers leaned in. Solenne turned her face away, fearing a kiss and better for it to land on her cheek than her lips.
He sniffed her hair.
This was too much.
