Page 102 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“You’ll not evade me so easily. I need to practice with a partner, and since I’ve caught you snooping, I’ll make you do the woman’s part.”

Oh no.Now I’ll have to pretend I don’t know how to dance—or try to pull off the illusion that I’m better at the man’s part. The way I screw up my face isn’t at all an act. “I will do anything you wish, my lord, but my ankle still bothers me.”

He cocks his head slightly and lifts one eyebrow. “You’re going soft on me, Nat. There’s no swelling, you took a dip in the creek, and you rested all afternoon. Surely it does not pain you so terribly?”

I don’t know what to reply to that. If I say it does, indeed, pain me greatly, he’ll summon the doctor, who will discover my true injury. If I say it doesn’t, then if I ever show pain again, Rahk will immediately be concerned. I do my best to shrug nonchalantly. “It definitely feels better than this morning.”

“Good. Now, step inside my study. We’ll go slowly—for your sake and mine.”

I do as he bids. The thought of dancing only makes my leg ache more than before, but I shove it away as best as I can.Remember to pretend you don’t know the woman’s part,I tell myself.Be clumsy and ignorant!

I’m afraid that Rahk will shut the door and enclose us in this small, intimate space by ourselves. To my relief, he leaves it cracked.

“Have you ever danced before?” he asks, and the way he fixes his attention on his book when he asks the question makes me feel as if he is pointedlynotlooking at me.

“My sister has taught me a little.”

His eyes glitter. “Did she teach you the woman’s part?”

I swallow hard and shake my head. He studies me a second longer and then turns the book my way. The page has diagrams of the foot patterns of the waltz. “Here’s your part,” he points, and runs his finger along the illustration I need to pay attention to. “You’ll have to endure any censure you feel at playing the woman.”

I am, instead, looking at the man’s part, telling myself I need to do the exact opposite of everything I know in dancing. I nod. “She’s taught me a little of the waltz.”

“Good. Now, let us get in position. Don’t look at me with such fear—I told you, we’ll go slowly.”

Chastised, I shift my gaze to the floor so he cannot read anything on my face. I pretend I’m focused very intently on my feet as I scoot close enough for us to touch, the tips of his boots filling my vision. Then, in an effort to make my act convincing, I hold up the opposite hand for him to grab.

There’s a smile in his voice when he says—his breath stirring hair on the top of my head—“The other one, Nat.”

“Oops.”

I give him my other hand and try desperately not to instantly savor the feeling of his fingers interlacing with mine. They are far rougher than any of the gentlemen that I’ve danced with before. I find I don’t mind it at all. I give a spare thought to hoping that, upon the contact, he doesn’t notice how very feminine mine are.

His other palm slides to sit just below my shoulder blade. I freeze, suddenly terrified he will feel my chest binding. But he gives no indication of the discovery.

He applies gentle pressure on my back and tugs on my hand—drawing me closer to him. I determinedly keep my gaze on the floor, lest my blush give me away.

“The waltz moves on a count of three,” he says, and his voice has gotten very quiet for some reason.

“I do remember that much,” I reply, laughing slightly to distract from my discomfort.

“I shall count to three and then we shall begin. One, two, three—”

I stop him. “It’s more of a lilting rhythm, not so stiff.” I demonstrate for him. “One two three, one two three, one two three.” Then, when he arches an eyebrow at me in surprise, I add, “At least, that was how Mary said it was to be done.”

“Well, then I am glad for Mary’s correction. Let us begin again.One two three—”

As the woman, I’m supposed to move backward while he moves forward. But, because I’ve got a ruse to keep, I go forward—except that I overcompensate with my opposites, and begin with my right foot instead of my left.

We collide. My nose smashes into his throat, his chin hitting my forehead, our chests nearly crashing together.

“Forgive me! I am foolish!” I cry at once, pulling back. “I’ve gotten the parts confused again. You really should get someone else to help you. Someone who is familiar with the women’s part.”

“I will not allow you to sabotage us to get out of your punishment. No, we shall be here until we’ve got it down—even if we must be here until dawn.”

“Ugh!” I whine in frustration.

He chuckles, and I might have thought his grip on me tightened just slightly. “You shall not escape your punishment so easily.”

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