"Do you hear that music?" Mira whispered to the children. "It's a waltz, the most wonderful music in the world to dance to."
"Have you danced the waltz before?" Mary inquired, leaning her cheek against Mira's propped-up knee, hereyes fastened dreamily on the scene in the ballroom. Mira smiled, also watching the collage of swirling satin gowns and flashing jewels.
"Yes. Not at a ball like this… but I have waltzed before."
"Why aren't you dancing now, at this ball?"
The twins looked at her expectantly. Mira hesitated, uncertain of how to reply. She could not explain to the two little girls that she and they were looking at a world that they would never be able to enter… that there were boundaries that could not be trespassed… wishes that could never come true.
"Oh, I don't think I would fit in at all," she finally said. "My gown isn't nearly as pretty as those."
The children seemed to consider that a perfectly plausible explanation. Suddenly a soft masculine voice drifted to them from the opening of the sitting room.
"It's an attractive gown, nonetheless, albeit a little rumpled."
All three of them looked around and saw Alec standing there. Mira tried to struggle to her feet, miserably conscious of the disheveled picture she made, especially compared to him. He looked magnificent in formal attire, the scheme of black coat, white pantaloons, white shirt, and starched cravat emphasizing the tan of his skin and the darkness of his hair. His appearance was faultless; she had never seen anyone so handsome. Her heart stopped as he smiled at her.
"My lord," she managed to stammer, dislodging the twins off her lap and standing up to face him, "how did you know we were… I was… how—?"
"I noticed that you were here during the fireworks."
"He must have been the 'who' you were wishing for," Kitty said pragmatically.
"Was I?" Alec inquired lazily, and Mira flushed.
"No! Kitty and Mary, it is your bedtime. Come, I will take you to—"
"No, you can't leave yet," Alec said. "I have riskedmy honor and reputation to come here for a dance i with you, resorting to deceit and outright—"
"Hardly new for you," Mira interrupted. She meant to sound sharp and cool, but somehow her voice came out so breathless that Alec laughed.
"One dance. Just the rest of this waltz."
"Oh, do!" Mary exclaimed, as Kitty added, "We want to see you dance!"
"I… I can't," Mira said in a low tone, trying to walk by Alec with her head bent. He caught her wrist as she brushed past him, his warm hand closing gently over her arm and sliding down to her hand.
"One dance," he coaxed, stroking his thumb around the backs of her knuckles until her fingers were curved around his. Then his voice was even quieter. "Just one."
Still not looking at him, she allowed him to draw her to the center of the circular balcony while the music fanned over the night and distilled its gentle rhythm through the air. Mary and Kitty stepped out of; the way and stood there eyeing the scene with delight. Alec smiled at them and then fixed his gaze on Mira. Her dress was of scarlet velvet, fitting closely to her slender form before flaring out at the hips. The boat-shaped neckline was cut very low, displaying the exquisite swell of her pale breasts, her sleeves full and slashed with black. Her dark, shining hair was covered with a black hairnet studded with pearls, a fringe of bangs escaping to frame her face and highlight her brown eyes.
"It will make things more difficult if you insist on standing so far away," Alec murmured. "This isn't a quadrille."
"I know that," Mira said, and stepped forward reluctantly, feeling painfully awkward.
"Why are you so stiff?" he asked so softly that it was almost a whisper. "I've held you in my arms before.""This is different. I… I'm not comfortable with this. We shouldn't."
"Coward," he said, his eyes caressing her warmly.
"And I can hardly hear the music—"
"You could if you were quiet."
Mira smiled, reaching out to his wide shoulder and placing her hand in his. Alec seemed to sense her shyness, and he waited with unexpected patience for her to draw nearer. Slowly his arm slid around her waist, his hand splaying over the small of her back. As they began to move, Mira stared at the center of his broad chest, concentrating on the crisp whiteness of his shirt. She had never known that following a man could be so easy. Not only was the pressure of his hand on her back firm and explicit as he guided her, but there was some sort of silent understanding between them, as if their bodies knew exactly how to move together.