“Careful now,” Arthur said calmly, his strong arms shooting out to catch her as her feet tangled in one another.
She panted as she steadied herself, her arms draped over each of his. Her face was pressed into his chest, as Arthur had used his massive body to stop her fall.
Her heart was racing so hard that she was certain he could hear it, even over the din of the people and the music. Slowly, it slowed down. And as the fear of falling ebbed, the embarrassment rose up to replace it.
“I am so sorry,” she mumbled.
Tears stung her eyes, and she gulped, trying to banish them. But for some reason, they would not go away.
Maybe it was the stress of the day. Maybe it was the promise that she would be leaving her home and all that she had ever known first thing in the morning. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was dancing with her betrothed and had done nothing but embarrass herself.
Whatever the reason, the tears refused to subside. Instead, they started rolling down her cheeks, one after the other, making quick work of streaking her face.
He cannae see me like this.
She ducked her head, doing a quick scan to find anywhere she could go to compose herself. Of course, seeing as they were in the center of a throng of dancers, there was nowhere to go.
The only place she could see where she could bury herself until her embarrassment faded was Arthur’s massive, strong chest.
And so she did just that.
She pressed her face into her betrothed’s center. She felt it when he chuckled darkly, wrapping his arms around her in an attempt to comfort her.
“There’s nay need to be embarrassed,” Arthur assured her, although he was doing little to hide the icy amusement in his tone. “Ye saw how shite of a dancer I am. I’m the reason ye stumbled.”
That was true. It was his fault. His words and him dippin’ me. I wouldnae have stumbled if it wasnae for that.
The thought eased some of her worries, and slowly, the tears began to ebb. She nodded, sniffling slightly.
Moving her head so it was no longer pressed directly against him, she still didn’t step out of the circle of his arms. She took a quick moment to swipe the backs of her hands over her cheeks, hopefully banishing the last of the evidence that she’d been crying.
Peering up at him through still-damp eyelashes, she found him looking down at her.
He was smirking, which did not surprise her in the slightest. But there was no meanness to it.
“Ye are quite terrible at dancin’,” she admitted, eliciting a dark chuckle from him.
Somewhere within the dining hall, the sound of a clock chiming filled the air.
Ten chimes.
It was getting late. She found it hard to believe how quickly the time had passed as they’d all eaten and danced.
Since they were riding out at first light, she knew that she needed to retire soon. She did not want to be groggy for their journey to her new life. Arthur, apparently, had the same thought.
“We should both retire for the evenin’,” he murmured.
Marissa glanced at him, finding him watching her with his stoic, grey eyes. She nodded.
“Can ye find yer rooms?” she asked. “Or would ye like me to tell a maid to escort ye?”
“Ye can tell me how to get there once I escort ye to yer chambers,” he answered.
She wanted to protest. Marissa didn’t entirely know how she felt about being alone with him, but she was intrigued by the thought.
It wasn’t like they could get up to anything untoward on the short journey to her bedchambers. And he was only staying two corridors away. So it made sense.
And, if she was being honest with herself—which she often was—she wanted to get to know him a little bit more. He was going to be her husband, after all.
