Page 24 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

‘Do you and I have to...?’

She popped silky mashed potato into her mouth.

‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘There’s no formal order for proceedings—just dinner and a dance if people choose to.’

He watched her chew, even though there was surely no need to, and was arrogant enough to be certain she was disappointed that they didn’thaveto dance.

God, she was fun to tease—and that was something he so rarely did.

Still, he was oddly put out when, in a lull between the main course and dessert, with the plates all cleared and some couples dancing, she nudged him with a question.

‘What about the silver-haired guy? I think he’s looking at me.’

Sahir glanced around the room, then saw to whom she referred. ‘No. Anyway, he’s a bit old,’ Sahir pointed out—even though he knew that he and Mr Silver-Hair had been in the same year at school!

‘I don’t mind that,’ Violet said. ‘There’s something attractive about maturity. I’m sick of guys my age. So...’ She met his eyes. ‘Is he looking at me?’

‘I already told you—no.’

‘Really?’ She frowned. ‘My mistake... He must be making eyes at you.’

As the bride and groom headed to the tiny dance floor, Violet popped a mint in her mouth and proceeded to top up her lip-gloss—no discreet bathroom exit for her.

And now, with her lips so shiny and kissable, Sahir found he wanted a taste of that after-dinner mint more than he had ever wanted anything.

Or rather, he wanted that minty mouth on his...

She stood up and shook off her many napkins—an accidental dance of the seven veils—and he sat there, a little stunned by the impact of her company.

‘I’m going to dance,’ Violet declared.

He watched her head to the small dance floor...watched as a silver head turned and a blond man moved to stand. And, yes, there was a reason Sahir enjoyed a traditional English wedding...

‘Hey,’ he called.

As Sahir caught her wrist, a flutter, a thrill...something that felt like a warm breeze from an open door...brushed through her as he turned her around.

‘For the sake of tradition, I believe the best man and bridesmaid dance together.’

Oh, they do, Violet thought, smiling because her plan had worked, and this gorgeous, delectable man was hers for the next few minutes.

It was nice to dance with someone so elegant, so beautiful and so magnificently scented.

‘What a lucky bridesmaid I am,’ she said, breathing him in.

She was bold, a bit cheeky, but it covered up so much shyness, so much hurt. But then she winced, wondering if she was being too much. And then he spoke in her ear.

‘What a fortunate best man...’

She closed her eyes at his velvet words and fought not to lean on him, just absorbing the moment.

‘Your dress is perfect.’

‘I know!’ She nodded as she leant on him anyway, but then she wanted to share what a find the dress had been and so she pulled her face up to his, and being so close up to those lips and eyes was a reward in itself. ‘I only found out about the wedding on Monday.’

‘I did too,’ he concurred.

‘The Saturday before, I was getting my hair cut and someone was bringing these dresses back.’

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