Page 56 of A Princess for Christmas

Leo paused in his retreat and looked at Marie like he could see all the way inside her. That was all it took for the restlessness to return. It occurred to her that although she’d been thinking of Leo as the cure for this agitation, he was also the cause of it.

She opened her mouth to demur, to override Monsieur Lavoie and tell Leo to go.

But then she closed it.

Leo, still looking at her, linked his fingers, extended his arms out in front of him, and cracked his knuckles. “All right. Definitely not going to the ball, but let’s do this.”

Something spiked in her belly.

Monsieur Lavoie approached. “Allow me to show you the steps first, Mr.Ricci. I will take the lady’s part.”

Leo’s sudden startled look made Marie smile. He was a good sport, despite the fact that he probably had not expected to end up twirling around the floor with an elderly Frenchman.

“You have a natural rhythm,” Monsieur Lavoie pronounced as the two men came to a halt a few minutes later.

“Piece of cake,” Leo said.

“Monsieur Lavoie is a retired professional ballroom dancer,”Marie said. She had always found it easy to dance with Monsieur Lavoie, both because he counted quietly in her ear and because he took such a strong lead—her body simply had to go where he put it. It was never the same in the wild, though, and of course real dances were often also fraught socially.

“Her Royal Highness is not Her Royal Highness when you are dancing with her,” Monsieur Lavoie informed Leo as he lined them up in front of each other. “She is your dancing partner. You lead. She follows.”

Was that perhaps why her partners’ leads never felt as strong as Monsieur Lavoie’s? Because they were consciously or unconsciously deferring to her?

“Do not be intimidated by her,” Monsieur Lavoie went on, and Leo raised an eyebrow.

If finding someone who would not fuss over her position was critical to the success of the dancing endeavor, Leo was her perfect partner.

Monsieur Lavoie put her right hand in Leo’s left as Leo slid his hand around to her lower back and pulled her close.

And there it was. Those arms. Stepping into them was like lowering herself into a thermal spring in the mountains. Warmth where there had been cold, relief where there had been tension.

He had pulled her too close for a waltz, though, and Monsieur Lavoie wasn’t having it.

“No, my dears, no!” He clapped his hands in two, sharp staccato bursts and stepped in to rearrange them. “Remember your frame.” He put some distance between them and lightly slapped their arms, one at time. “Tension in the frame so that where you lead”—he pointed at Leo—“she goes.”

There was that eyebrow again. Leo was enjoying this way too much.

But he certainly led. He got the hang of it quickly, and aside from a few early missteps, soon he was putting her where she needed to go. Like Monsieur Lavoie.

Exceptnotlike Monsieur Lavoie. Monsieur Lavoie’s hands were not as big, or as warm, as Leo’s. Monsieur Lavoie did not stare at her with his eyes burning with an odd mixture of heat and amusement. Monsieur Lavoie did not smell like spicy oranges.

Marie’s stomach fluttered, but she kept moving.

She was lighter on her feet than usual. In addition to the strong lead, Leo was graceful enough for the both of them. He kept tension in his frame, but brought a kind of flow to the proceedings.

He made it feel easier.

Which, now that she thought about it, was true about him in general, whether “it” was a waltz or a meeting at a watch shop. Leo madeeverythingfeel easier.

After fifteen minutes, Monsieur Lavoie was showering them with delighted applause. “Shall we move on to the ländler?” Then, to Leo, he added, “It’s a traditional Eldovian dance.”

“It’s hard,” Marie said. “ThinkSound of Music.”

“I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead,” Leo said. “I was just telling Marie yesterday that in my book, dancing is swaying. I guess I was wrong.”

“No,” Monsieur Lavoie said, “not wrong.” Marie was shocked. Not once in the eighteen years she’d been working with Monsieur Lavoie had he said anything like that. “Dancing is many things. For someone like the princess, it is a performance. Part of herjob. That kind of dancing is highly choreographed. But in other contexts, dancing can be many other things.”

“What do you mean?” Marie asked. “What else can it be?”

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