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She moved towards him and put her fingertips in his palm, waiting for the moment when his hand would tighten over hers. The movement in his hand signalled to her that his fingers had flexed, but he didn’t close them against her. He hadn’t realised she wasn’t scared by him, but was trying to keep from letting her life be changed in a way she’d never believed possible. This weakness she’d fought against because she’d seen her mother deserted by the man she’d loved.
‘Now put your hand on my shoulder and I will rest my arm at your back, but I will not hold or clasp you tightly. It will be just the barest bit of my hand resting against you.’
Her throat tightened, and she tried to keep her breathing calm and the world from fading so that the only remaining thing was him.
‘You will be safer than you’ve ever been before. I will let nothing hurt you. Mother is here. She’s looking at the music and she is telling the man how she wishes to hear him play the piece.’
He stood, as if he were the one who couldn’t move.
Bellona put her hand at his shoulder—wool soft beneath her fingers. The scent of shaving soap touched her nose.
He hadn’t moved. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked.
She nodded.
She felt the flex of his shoulders and the slightest touch of his hand near her back.
‘Pretend I’m not even here.’ His words barely reached her ears over the tune the pianist just started playing. ‘It will be simple as a stroll around the room.’
She nodded and he took the first step of the dance.
Bellona stumbled, managing to find Rhys’s feet. He tensed his arms, but he didn’t try to right her or gasp at her.
When she moved back into the dance, he looked beyond her and hummed a rich, soothing sound.
She listened to his voice, and thought of the music. She could still move. His eyes weren’t on her and his thoughts looked far away. She forced herself not to move closer to him. The distance would save her.
The pianoforte music wafted inside her body and it was the same as being in the forest, free and alone—the moment of the leaves in the trees brushing the air over her and being safe, held by the forest.
Her arm barely contacted with his coat—a mountain of man moved beneath her touch, but instead of causing cold breaths inside her, the world invited her. She tightened the fingers of her raised hand, feeling his palm, and he responded with the merest pressure, silent reassurance passing between them.
She wanted to see his face, but she didn’t dare raise her eyes. She didn’t want to ruin anything about this moment.
The music stopped and their feet ceased at the same step. He did not move at all until he spoke to the duchess. ‘I think she has the grasp of it.’
Then he ushered her to his mother and left the room.
‘You did well enough,’ the duchess said. ‘I knew you could learn. Rhys is a much better dancer than the tutor, if I do say so myself. You should see the ladies at soirées beam when he asks them to dance. I’m sure it quite goes to his head, but it doesn’t show. The dance is not so hard, is it?’
‘No.’
She appraised Bellona’s face. ‘You need not concern yourself about the dance again. All it took was for Rhys to show you. Don’t expect your next dancing partner to be like my son, though.’
Bellona nodded, and left the room. She didn’t expect any man to ever be like him.
Chapter Six
Rhys stood just inside the open window. He’d had one of the servants move Bellona’s target closer to the library window again. He suspected she’d lugged them away before because they’d slowly migrated from under the windows. He’d just wanted the arrows going away from the direction of the fields. True, he told himself, and the thwack of the arrow both irritated him and pulled him like a siren’s song. Liar, he admitted.
A carriage rolled up. Warrington’s.
The door opened, and Warrington stepped out, then turned to help Bellona’s sister from the vehicle. His hand lingered in his wife’s until a blonde bundle jumped from the opening and both parents turned to her in caution.
The little one dodged her parents and ran screeching to Bellona. Warrington reprimanded her, but his wife placed a gloved hand on his arm and then Warrington moved from view.
Bellona’s bow and arrow slid to the ground and Willa bounded into her aunt’s arms. The dark head and the light one bumped together. Bellona moved, hugging the little one in a swirling movement.
‘Willa insisted her aunt is out with her bow and arrows slaying dragons. She claims you are doing so to rescue her.’ Melina’s voice carried through the open window.
‘Only six dragons.’ Bellona’s excited voice was no quieter than her sister’s.
