Page 75 of Heart of Snow
Two more actors wandered the room looking for partners. One climbed onto the dais, stepping over the ladies-of-honor sitting on their cushions until he stretched his hand to the very lady I’d been searching for, pulling Margaretha to her feet. Dressed in crimson and glittering in royal jewels, Margaretha absolutely extinguished all the other women in the room, leaving herself the one bright flame surrounded by guttering, spent candles. The entire hall seemed entranced by her beauty as she followedthe actor onto the open floor, but with all eyes on her, her lightning gaze was riveted on me. I was helpless to look away.
“Here.” Ilsa pushed a handkerchief into my gut. “You’ll need this to mop up the slaver.”
I shoved her hand away, irritated that she’d made me lose sight of Margaretha even for a second. Standing and finding her again, I weaved through the crowd of onlookers, matching my place in the room with hers as I watched the hop-steps, lifts, and turns of the dance. Indulging my thoughts of Margaretha all those nights was definitely playing havoc with my willpower. Her partner took his backward step, and without thinking, I pushed my way into his place, putting my hands on Margaretha’s waist and lifting her in a turn. When I set her back down in front of me, her wide eyes exposed her shock.
“You are recovered,” she panted. “I am glad of it.”
“I too.” I would have been sorry to miss seeing her in that dress.
Lifting her into another easy spin, I was disturbed by how familiar it was being close to her again. That after all the time apart, it felt natural putting my hands on her waist and breathing in the smell of the red flowers crowning her hair. Natural and alluring. Despite hoping to smother every last spark of desire for her, I felt its burn even now, reminding me how much I cared for her, whether I wanted to or not.
But I hadn’t joined the dance to rekindle impossible hopes.
“I wanted to thank you for your help the other day,” I said while she leapt before me. “To keep beating in the forest with a gashed and bloodied leg is a pain I’m grateful to have avoided.”
“You should be grateful to Felipe for letting you see his physician. The man for the servants is a butcher.”
I didn’t have any gratitude toward the prince.
“Friedrich, you press my hand too tightly.”
I relaxed my grip, but my eyes wandered to the prince, whose steely gaze was locked on me. I nodded with a smile of forced politeness.
Margaretha caught the exchange. “Though you may not care for the prince, he has the power to grant my brother’s freedom. That should make you happy.”
“It does.” My answer was clipped.
The dance was winding down, the moment slipping through my fingers like rain. I wasn’t yet ready for it to end. Lifting her in the final leap, I set her down so close in front of me that our faces were a breath apart as we stared into each other’s eyes, neither of us moving.
“Friedrich,” she whispered.
I swallowed, and my hands gripped her waist tighter.
“I-I don’t expect,” she stammered. “If you never find it in your heart to... to forgive me, I hope that, in my saving Samuel, you can at least see I do not value human life so meanly.”
I sighed. “Margar—Countess, the only life I think you value meanly is your own.”
The song ended, the crowd’s applause dissolving our intimacy, and she took a step back. I couldn’t let her leave yet. I seized her hand, bringing her eyes up to mine. The vulnerability on her face stabbed me with a sudden ache for her. “I wish,I wishI could find a way to—”
“Mea columba.” The prince grabbed Margaretha’s hand right out from mine, not even acknowledging my presence. “Are you ready for our dance?”
The smile she offered him did not reach her eyes. “Always.”
Throwing me a sorrowful final glance, Margaretha left with the prince.
I made a straight line to the wine table and raced through a cup, reaching for another just as Ilsa appeared at my elbow.
“I thought you had no interest in dancing,” she hissed, then whirled around and stormed out of sight.
***
Margaretha
Friedrich was still at the wine table, alone.
“Felipe, I’m parched. Can I bow out of this dance to fetch a drink?”
“I’ll fetch you one myself,” he offered.
