Page 67 of The Kingdom's Reckoning
"Just cheers me, Haze. We know I hate reading."
Laughing, Myra clinked her mug against his and drank. She might have taken an extra sip for good measure.
When she set her cup down, she ran her fingers along the side of the mug as she looked out toward the strangers. She admired the way the people moved with such unabashed joy and reckless abandon. They danced without a care in the world. She wished she could have a single moment in her life when that could have been her, too. For her entire life, she had been riddled with guilt or paranoia. She wondered what it was like to let go.
Resting her chin atop her propped-up hand, she sighed. She must have done so louder than she had intended, though, because Laurince heard her and pushed himself from the table.
"Let’s go."
Myra stared at his outstretched hand. A pang of sadness twisted in her throat. Leaving might have been the smartest choice, but she wasn’t ready. She wanted to relish everyone else’s joy a little longer. She scraped her teeth across her bottom lip and debated how she could convince him to leave without her.
He wiggled his fingers. "Are you going to leave a man hanging, or are you going to dance with me?"
"Dancewith you?"
Laurince shrugged nonchalantly. "Might as well, right? You’re not a very good liar. If Rian remembers to ask you tomorrow, you’ll give me away if we go to bed before I at least make a fool of myself once." He gave her a rueful smile. "When was the last time you experienced your own joy and not someone else’s?"
Myra’s breath hitched. As if on its own accord, her hand rose and slipped into his.
Laurince tugged her up to her feet before she could second-guess herself. The air whisked through her hair, sending the blonde strands whipping around her. Then he was pulling her behind him, heading closer to the musician, where a small crowd danced. The song was an upbeat tune. But as Laurince spun her around, making her face him, the song melted into something else, something slower, more intimate. The people around them coupled up, hands meeting, fingers entwining, chests pressing together, hips swaying.
No, no, no.
Myra took a step back, her hand uncurling from the captain’s.
"I said we’d dance, didn’t I?" Laurince asked, a brow cocked.
"But this is…" Myra glanced around. She couldn’t dance tothis.Not with him.
"Do you doubt my dancing skills that much?" Laurince quipped.
Flashes of the captain moving around the dance floor during the week of Kallie and Rian’s failed-wedding surfaced. Laurince had been one of several men who had taken part in the traditional Frenzian dance, so Myra had witnessed just how well he could move. She recalled how his suit hugged his frame, perfectly molding to the muscles that lay beneath the fabric. The image made her a little dizzy.
Or was that the alcohol?
Definitelythe alcohol.
"I would never," Myra said, forcing her voice to sound light and playful, though she wasn’t sure she successfully hid how nervous she was.
He pulled her closer. "Don’t worry, Haze, I’ll be a perfect gentleman." His voice, low and husky, sent a ripple down her spine. "Place this hand here," he said, guiding one of her hands onto his shoulder, "and hold my hand with this one."
"I’ve danced before," Myra mumbled, suddenly feeling the need to defend herself.
His free hand slipped to her waist, his gentle touch searing through the fabric of her blouse. He wiggled his fingers, tapping his pinky against her hip. "Your hips say otherwise, Haze. They are as stiff as a board." He leaned closer, his breath brushing the tip of her ear. "What was that you said about not being uptight again?"
Is he flirting?
Myra must have been misconstruing his tone. The temptation to reach out and see what emotions danced along the thread was strong, but she hesitated. His emotions were his own. She refused to violate them. She let the thread slip between her fingers like water, the emotions drifting away before she could grasp them.
Laurince chuckled and moved his hand higher up her back. He guided her forward, swiftly falling into a simple box step. As they danced, a comfortable amount of space remained between them, yet the faint traces of cinnamon from the spiced mead and pine consumed her senses. Gods, she could drown in it?—
"There you go," he said, interrupting her wayward thoughts as she fell into step with him.
A shy grin twitched at her lips from the praise. When she realized she was staring up at him, she instantly dropped hergaze to his chest. But that was even worse. The cotton fabric stretched across his chest, bringing attention to his pectoral muscles. She had a strange desire to lay her head there. A desire to hear his beating heart. Was it beating as fast as hers?
She stumbled over her feet and stepped on Laurince’s boot. "Sorry," she mumbled, face flushed.
"Just follow my lead, Haze," he whispered, not missing a beat. As if it were only the two of them.
