Page 13 of Besotted
She drew in a wobbly breath but didn’t back away.
“There. Perfect,” I whispered, my breathing unsteady too. My hands twitched with the need to touch her hair again, but I lowered them to my lap. “Your turn.”
She lifted her flower wreath, her hands shaking slightly. As she pressed it into position, she brushed at one of my strands. And when she tucked it into the crown, her bright and curious eyes met mine.
I held myself still, and as she reached for another piece of hair and combed it back, I uttered not one word of protest. Wonder filled her expression, and I guessed she’d never touched a man’s hair before.
I would have allowed her to continue, except her wreath of flowers tipped forward and almost fell off her head. She reacted before I did, situating it back into place.
I offered her my hand. “Now that we are crowned as king and queen, shall we dance?”
Her eyes widened with wariness. “King and queen?”
“Yes. We can pretend, can we not?”
She studied my hand and then placed hers into mine. “I suppose we can.”
I closed my fingers over hers. “Will you not tell me your name? I should like to know it.”
She started to withdraw.
“Please don’t go.” I clung to her. “’Tis of no consequence. Your company is all I need.”
She focused on our clasped hands, hesitation warring across her features.
“To be sure.” I squeezed gently. “Disregard that I even brought it up—”
“Rory.”
“Rory?”
“Yes.”
“’Tis the name for a young child.”
“I shall turn twenty years soon. Would you have me change my name?”
I chuckled. “No, I shall call you whatever you wish.”
She didn’t meet my gaze. Perhaps she was using a nickname and hiding her given name. Though a part of me wanted to know everything about her, I shrugged off the desire. After all, I’d withheld information from her and couldn’t expect more of her than I did of myself.
As we stood and she placed her hand on my shoulder, I was consumed with thoughts of her and her nearness. I had difficulty concentrating on the dance but forced myself to hum and twirl her.
She kept pace and didn’t stumble once, and by the time the dance ended, she beamed with pleasure.
“Well done, Your Majesty.” I released her and bowed.
Her face turned pale, and she took a rapid step away. “Your Majesty?”
“Yes, you are the queen, are you not?”
She glanced at her basket of flowers as though she wanted to bolt. What had I said to disturb her?
I tapped my crown of flowers. “And I am the king, remember?”
“Oh, yes.” The stiffness in her shoulders eased. “I forgot... Your Majesty.”
I held out my hand, desperate to keep her from running off. “Shall I teach you another dance?”
