Page 68 of Heart’s Rescue

I sigh as though I’m resigning myself to something and then toss my hair back. “Fine,” I say. “But only for the sake of all those people in the World’s End who are counting on you to host the dance.”

Rowan grins, and I step into his arms.

“Put your arm around my waist,” I say. “And follow my lead.”

With that, I take his hand in mine and pull him into a dance. I start humming under my breath, no words, just the melody, as I try to guide his feet through a simple series of steps. I expect it to be utterly hopeless, but no. Once again, I’ve underestimated him. Rowan moves through the steps with a bit of hesitation, but he follows where I lead. When I stop, my heart is hammering against the back of my throat, and I’m almost painfully aware of the heat of his body, the solid strength of his chest, his hand on the small of my back.

“Okay,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m out of breath. Because I shouldn’t be out of breath after something that simple. “Okay, that went pretty well.”

“Pretty well?” Rowan replies. “Is this one of those ‘damn me with faint praise’ situations? Because I thought I was freaking fantastic at that.”

I grin at him. “Okay. Let’s try something more complicated, then.”

I turn so that I’m facing him directly and tuck my hips against his. I reach out with my leg and back, out and back, and Rowan copies me. Then I spin away, pulling him with me. He follows, keeping his chest pressed to mine, but his eyes trail on our feet.

“You’re supposed to look at me,” I say.

His eyes meet mine. Fire burns through my body. I feel like I’ve just had another shot from that bottle he pulled from his pantry. I spin again, tugging him with me, trying to hide the flush in my cheeks. We’re close enough that I can feel his reaction in the place where our hips are pressed together, the length of him growing heavy and thick against my thigh.

“They dance like this in the Royal Court?” Rowan pants.

I laugh. It comes out a nervous flutter.

“Sometimes,” I say.

Stars, what was I thinking? I’ve just taught Rowan one of the engagement dances, not the usual stiff courtly reels. But, I think as my cheeks burn against his chest, Rowan won’t know that. As far as he knows, this is a stiff courtly reel. I tug him into another spin, then press against his chest.

“And remember,” I say, breathless despite myself, “the entire court is watching us dance.”

Rowan grins. He leans back, then forward, as I tug him through the wildly erotic steps of the engagement dance I’d learned years ago in the anticipation of my eventual betrothal to Prince Folwynn. I’d never used it.

“The entire court is watching? Right now?” Rowan asks. “What do they think?”

I stare up into his brilliant blue eyes and imagine we’re in the middle of the royal court, dancing alone on the marble floor. I can see elegant ladies’ dresses whirl by, illusions winking and twisting along the ceiling. I can hear the band, the whispered conversation, the tinkle of silver against crystal.

They think you’re beautiful, my mind whispers. They think you’re amazing. They think you’re—

“Not bad,” I manage to say.

We twirl. Rowan stumbles but catches himself. His arm tightens around my back.

“Did the entire court see that?” he whispers.

“Of course,” I answer. “They can see everything.”

I tug him forward. Rowan doesn’t move. Instead, he leans down and kisses me, his open lips against mine, heat rising from both our bodies. His hips tilt and the hard, hot length of him rubs me in a way that makes my entire body unravel. He pulls away, and a hungry sort of moan slips out of my lips, chasing him.

“Lady Arryn,” Rowan says, with a wicked smile. “The entire court is watching.”

“I don’t care,” I whisper.

I drop his hand and thread my fingers through his pale hair, pulling him toward me, dragging his lips into another kiss. He comes willingly, following my lead as though this were just another part of the dance, and then his lips are on mine, and I’m opening for him, embracing him, and our tongues are dancing, and in that moment I’d swear on the stars that I would kiss him in front of the entire court. I would kiss Rowan anywhere.

“Rowan,” I whisper. “Rowan, please.”

His arms wrap around me, and he’s lifting me into the air, carrying me through the little cabin and to the bed as though this were all a part of the dance, as though he’d kiss me and pick me up and claim me as his even if everyone in court really were watching.

“Please,” I whisper again, begging for more. Begging for him.

His lips meet mine as he lays me down on the bed, and I can’t even find the words to beg.