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“Likewise,” she says, offering him an easy smile that touches her eyes.
The music fades, and the room erupts in applause. The musicians bow slightly, then settle in with their instruments and begin playing again. This song is slower, a waltz, and Landon holds out his hand to me.
“May I have this dance?”
I pause, knowing a dance will change things, that I will no longer have the luxury of going unnoticed. I take a deep breath, hold it in my chest and count to three, then let it out. “I would be delighted,” I say.
I give Ivy my drink and let Landon lead me to the center of the room. The crowd parts, eyes following us as we turn to face each other, my right hand holding his, my left resting on top of his shoulder. He hesitantly places his hand on my back, his fingertips brushing the skin above my dress. My breath catches, and I finally raise my eyes to his. We watch each other for one, two, three beats, and then the music picks up and we’re spinning around the room.
Landon is a skilled partner, leading me smoothly even when I miss a step or become too focused on the way his fingers feel on my skin. His eyes never leave mine, his gaze confident and assured.
I thought dancing in front of so many people would be terrible, that I’d feel their eyes on me the whole time, but every part of me is focused on Landon, on the way he holds my hand, the way his touch remains just a whisper on my back, theway his breath mixes in the air with mine. Dancing is such a common part of his world, but it feels entirely intimate to me. This is my future husband, and the first time I’ve ever felt his touch on my skin is in the presence of an audience.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, not seeming to notice the way the rest of the room watches us.
“I am, thank you.”
“Tana,” he says, his amber eyes never leaving my face, “I’m asking because I genuinely want to know.”
I’m so aware of his touch and the smell of citrus on his breath, and he’s carrying on a conversation as if it’s nothing.
I laugh, quiet enough that only he can hear. “It’s a little overwhelming,” I admit. “I’m not used to being the center of attention.” I don’t move my eyes from his because I’m scared of what I’ll do if I see the way people are watching us, whispering to one another. I don’t want to see the proud looks on my parents’ faces or the envious looks of the mainlander girls. I try to take a calming breath, but my dress barely lets in enough air to keep me conscious.
“You’ll get used to it,” he says. “This is all for show, anyway. For our parents. How about this: once the song ends, we’ll go sit in the garden. Our parents will love it, but we’ll keep our backs to the house. I could use some fresh air, anyway.”
My heart beats faster, and I wonder how this man I barely know has somehow said the perfect thing. “I’d like that.”
“Me too.”
The song slows, and Landon twirls me once more before tightening his hold on me. He lowers me into a gentle dip, and myhead floats back, my hair almost grazing the polished floor. He leans over me, his face mere inches from my neck.
“I love your perfume,” he murmurs, slowly pulling me up, his hands not releasing me even after the music fades. I wait for the spark, the vibration, the final note in the concerto, but it doesn’t come. I suppose it wouldn’t, surrounded by all these people, and I tell myself there is time. It will come later. Landon leans close and whispers, “Quite a show, Miss Fairchild.”
I smile at that, a shy smile that barely tugs at my lips, but it’s enough. Applause breaks out all around us.
Suddenly I’m dizzy, and I grip Landon’s back and rest my forehead on his shoulder to steady myself. He doesn’t pull away, waiting patiently as I regain my balance. His pointer finger finds a section of my hair, and when I let him go, he carefully tucks it behind my ear. “That earned us at least two songs in the garden, I’m sure.”
He winks at me and leads me off the dance floor. Ivy is waiting for us at the bar, her back against the marble ledge, elbows propped up as if she’s never been more comfortable in her life. She hands me my drink, an amused expression on her face.
“That was some dance,” she says.
“I was just telling Tana that I believe it earned us some time in the garden.”
She studies Landon, and her features relax, an expression I recognize as relief. Relief that this man I’ve been betrothed to since before I could even speak understands enough about me to know that a break in the garden is exactly what I need. We exchange a glance before Ivy looks back at Landon.
“I think you’re right,” she agrees.
“Would you like to join us?” I ask.
“Absolutely not. I didn’t get dressed up like this to hide myself in the garden.”
“May everyone here look upon you with wonder,” I say.
She bows her head. “Thank you.”
Landon takes my hand and leads me outside. The cold night air sends goose bumps up my arms, and I shiver, but it’s the best feeling. I can hear the water again, the waves lapping against the rock wall, and my whole body relaxes.
We walk to the far corner of the garden and sit on a stone bench that looks out over the Passage. Lights from the Witchery flicker in the distance, and my heart aches, knowing this will be my daily view not long from now.
