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But nay.
Anne was there.
To the—imagined?—collective gasp of their audience?
But there nevertheless, her stalwart shoulder and self, the woman who had birthed babes and buried cats in the biting wind (or nearly so)—there to land her strength and support as she lurched and ducked beneath him. Saving both his knee and his pride.
The periphery of the ballroom—even the other dancers themselves—ceased to matter as she straightened, her shoulder wedged beneath his, her arms hugged around his middle every bit as tight as they’d been when they said goodbye scant days prior.
“Dear Anne…” His breath still faltered, the near calamity a mental fright as much as a physical one. “You lend me strength and balance.”
“’Tis a fortunate thing, my lord, for your dancing is just pitiful.”
He laughed. Laughed at the weakened leg that hadn’t—thanks to her—mortified him beyond reckoning, but had only annoyed. For the first time since falling on that soggy battlefield, he was almost thankful for it, for had he kept his seat on the borrowed horse, they would have missed out on those magical stolen hours together.
The musicians had jangled to a discordant stop, silent for a handful of seconds, then they resumed their original, slower melody, the one that signaled the dancers to turn and spin—but not jump or skip, thank heavens.
“Shall we stop?” she asked, looking as anxious as his mother and as concerned as Anne’s father, both hovering on the outskirts of the dance floor, poised as though to rush to his aid. He jerked a quick nod, acknowledging them, hoping he conveyed the steadiness with which he now commanded both his feet and the moment. Then he turned back to Anne.
“Absolutely not.” He lifted his hand over her head. “This is still our dance, I believe?”
With a grin, she gripped him once more and they were off, her very presence subduing the ache in his leg.
“You ‘my lorded’ me earlier. There is no need. Call me Ed. It’s what my friends use. Lord Redford is far too staunch and pompous for two souls as akin as I think we may be.”
She gave their joined hands a squeeze. “And you may call me Merry.”
“Might you, perhaps… Merry Anne,” he broached as tactfully as he could think to, “reconsider your stance against birthing a babe?”
Heat flared over her pretty face, flushing cheeks and brightening eyes. Her fingers upon his back stiffened. “Have you knowledge of something I do not?”
“Only that an heir would delight my mother even more than if we—you and I—were to make an announcement tonight.”
“Hmm. An announcement, you say?”
“Mmm. Something similar to I declare, I do hope we have something other than goose for Twelfth Night.”
“You can be a cork-brained idiot.”
“Aye. Would you have me any other way?”
“I begin to think I shall have you just as you are.” She released his hand to run the tips of her fingers over the hastily sewn tailcoat seam, warming scarred flesh he’d wished dead during the worst of his recovery.
“This has never bothered you, has it? Not once have you expressed any manner of hesitation over my deformity.”
“A deformity it is not,” she stated with assurance. “It would have to bethere to be deformed.”
Damned if he didn’t laugh again. “And that is why I want you for my wife. You may be stubborn; I know you are. And argumentative— Nay. Do not interrupt me here. We—”
Yet again the music changed; yet again, the musicians kept it spry but unhurried. He and Anne lowered their arms, still holding onto each other, still staring only at each other. “Yes, argumentative. We can argue over that one later, if you wish. For you are also caring and forthright and bring me such unexpected delight. You are all I never thought to wish for and you are here, in my arms, and I vow, I do not want to let you go.” Arms? “Arm. Damn it.”
“Hush. Corrections or admonitions such as that between us never need be uttered.”
But what did need uttered…
“Your heated proclamation about the messy, disgusting business of birthing a child, about not begetting any of your own… Is that something you might reconsider? Or were you in earnest?”
“I was hungry, cold, exhausted, and sad. Aye, I meant every word.”
