But now you’re lost in another's gaze,
While I’m drowning in this haze.
Oh, love! Like a rose in the rain,
Each petal a sigh, each thorn a sweet pain.”
Nigel rolled his eyes and groaned. “Gods, I hate this song.”
Luna gulped on a laugh that burst from her throat anyway. “It’s hardly appropriate for a wedding, is it?” she said, eyes sparkling.
“Well, perhaps for thisparticularwedding,” Nigel mused, “considering how things turned out.”
Another little burst of giggles, and Luna leaned her head against the lyre. “I can just hear Tom Doorhandler and the Duke of Woolfwood, singing these lyrics tonight through their tears!”
“Maybe a duet?”
“Oh, can’t you just picture it? The two of them, finding solace in the bonds of mutual disappointment?”
The image conjured was simply too ridiculous. Nigel caught Luna’s eye, and that seemed to inspire a fresh flood of mirth from her. She giggled ridiculously while the cowardly violets crowded around her, curious as to the cause of her amusement. Nigel tried in vain to shush her for fear of drawing attention their way, but couldn’t suppress the little chuckles hiccupping in his own throat.
All the while, the crooner sang on:
“I watched you dance with someone new,
Heartbreak wrapped in shades of blue,
Every smile you give away,
Turns my dreams to shades of gray.”
“I don’t suppose you remember,” Nigel said when a little break in her giggles allowed opportunity, “but we, erm, we danced to this song. Once. Long ago.”
Her expression shifted. The light did not fully leave her eyes, but something in them shuttered slightly, as though she was suddenly uncertain of her footing. “I remember,” she said softly. “At Saint Jollify’s.”
Nigel nodded. “You clobbered a sailor.”
“I absolutely did not!”
“No, no, I remember it all quite vividly. That poor fellow. All bruised and battered. Writhing around on the dance floor.”
Luna twisted her lips in a valiant attempt to suppress another laugh and reached out to gently backhand his shoulder. “As I recall,you’rethe one who ended up with the shiner!”
Grimacing, Nigel touched his cheek where he’d been struck by a flying apple. “Most unkind of you, Miss Talbot, bringing up a fellow’s traumas like that.”
She giggled again and leaned her head against the lyre, her curls bunching up against her shoulder. “It feels like a long time ago, doesn’t it?”
It did. It also felt like only yesterday.
Her gaze was turned away from him, once more looking out from under the bunched-up tablecloth to the dance floor. Nigel took the opportunity to study the delicate lines of her face. The curve of her cheek, the bump on the bridge of her nose. That full upper lip and the point of her chin. He’d not enjoyed the luxury of such close observation in weeks now, and the sight made him feel oddly giddy, like little sparkling wine bubbles cavorting in his gut.
He couldn’t say where the impulse came from. It was upon him so suddenly, he didn’t even have time to register what was happening before his mouth opened, and he heard the words spilling from his lips: “Would you dance with me now?”
Luna blinked, her lashes fanning quickly as she turned her eyes his way. “Under the table?”
Nigel swallowed the lump in his throat and shrugged one shoulder. “At least we can’t hurt anyone from down here.”
Her lips parted then closed then parted again. She pulled her head away from the lyre support, turning to look at him more directly. “I don’t quite see how it is to be managed.”
