Page 12 of Slow Waltz

“There’s nothing wrong with passion.” Silas swirled his remaining bourbon.

Debbie leaned over and clinked her glass to Silas’s. “Cheers to that!”

They all drank.

Around them, the music faded. Scott stepped out onto the dance floor.

Showtime. Before he knew it, Rhys found himself on the dance floor with Debbie and the other couples. The music started again, and they were off in a graceful display. Somehow, dancing surrounded by the hushed chatter of diners in the soft light of the evening seemed even easier than during their lessons. Rhys was pretty sure his steps weren’t perfect, and he and Debbie flubbed one under-the-arm turn, to both their amusement. Still, it felt good to dance like this. Slow and stately. As the music came to an end and polite clapping took over, a thought surfaced.This is part of my life now, this urbane existence. It wasn’t the first time—his mother had been a classical cellist—but that had been so long ago.

He and Debbie followed Silas and Faith back to their table. What would his mother make of this, of Silas? Probably she’d either be pleased for him…or terrified because Silas encompassed both strangeness and danger.

Not that it mattered, though his heart said otherwise. But there were some things you couldn’t change, couldn’t fix. Rhys shook himself free of his mood and accepted coffee from their waitress. Silas watched him over the top of his own cup.

“I’m fine,” Rhys said. This time, it wasn’t a lie.

Over the course of the next two hours, they talked and mingled over dessert, coffee, and after-dinner drinks. Rhys rose and watched the dancing—sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but always more coordinated and stunning than what he usually described as dancing. “I want to learn more.”

Standing next to him, Silas placed a hand against the small of Rhys’s back. “I’m sure we can find a ballroom dance club in the city.”

Rhys froze as the future loomed. Where the hell would they live? His place was little more than a hovel, and he had no idea if Silas even had a home anywhere in the world. What if he had to move? Where would they go? “What are we going to do?”

As if Silas understood his thoughts—and Rhys suspected he did—he drew soothing circles on his back. He spoke into Rhys’s ear. “We’ll figure it all out, I promise.”

Rhys relaxed into that touch until Scott returned to the dance floor and invited all for one last waltz.

Turning, Rhys held out his hand. “Shall we?”

Silas’s smile was glorious, and Rhys led him out onto the dance floor. “You lead,” Silas murmured, “and I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Warmth flowed into Rhys—not the burn of desire but something softer. Love. Whatever happened in the future, they had this moment and this promise.“Cling to it,”Debbie had said.

The music started, and they flowed like the waves outside the ship, or the wisps of elemental energy they both drew into themselves. The room narrowed into three beats. Their past, their present, their future. Perfect steps, missed steps, and stepped-on toes. Silas laughed, and they kept going.

When the music stopped, Rhys spoke. “We’re going to be okay, you and me.”

Silas led him back toward their table. “We’ll be fine. It’s everything else I worry about.”

“You worry?”

“Sometimes,” Silas said. “But not about us.”

That was heartening. They reached their table, which was empty. “Where are the ladies?”

Silas nodded toward the door to the outside deck. “Follow me.”

They slipped out, the night church-quiet after the music and conversation of the lounge. The waning moon cast silver light onto the ocean and lengthened all the shadows. Silas took his hand and drew him toward the prow.

Rhys wanted to ask where they were going, but speaking would shatter the stillness of the moment. Silas pulled Rhys to a stop and pointed.

Debbie and Faith moved, the moonlight sparkling on their jewelry and gowns as they held each other close and waltzed in the silence of the night. They were stunning and entirely focused on each other.

Love at first sight. Rhys was an idiot for not seeing it. That’s why Debbie had known. Shehadlived it—was still living it.

Rhys backed away, pulling Silas with him. When they’d moved out of earshot of the ladies, he whispered, “I felt like we were intruding.”

“We were,” Silas said, but his tone was gentle. “I guessed you might not have known.”

Rhys knew he was blushing. “I didn’t. But everything makes sense now.” He pulled Silas to a stop. “Do you think that will be us in fifty years?”

“I’m counting on it.” Silas cupped Rhys’s chin and caressed his jaw. “And in a hundred years. And a hundred after that. Don’t you dare disappoint me.”

Rhys stared at Silas. “Marry me.”

Silas ran his thumb over Rhys’s lips. “Of course.”

He tasted of sun and earth and eternity. Rhys could only watch the moonlight dance over Silas’s jaw. “More dancing?” Silas said, his lips curling into a smile.

“No.” Rhys breathed in the salty ocean air. He touched Silas’s tie. “I have an idea. How good are you with knots?”

Silas let go of Rhys’s chin and pushed him in the direction of the elevators. “Let’s find out.”