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“What?”

“I’ll lead,” she said, twirling around him as she guided them into place. “You follow what I do. It’s really simple, Samuel.” She took his hand and placed it on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

Samuel blinked down at her, panic creeping into his eyes. “But it’s not proper.”

She was grinning before she had even decided on it. “And are you the type to really care about what’s proper?” She leaned close enough that their breath mingled. “I know you can do it. Don’t disappoint me. And now… one. Two. Three. Four.”

As the rest of the couples began to move, she pulled him into the dance, guiding him with a strong hand as he stumbled through the first few measures. He kept his gaze down at her feet, and she counted the beat to him, drowning out the whispers and the gasps, until the stumbling smoothed into something more graceful.

“There,” she said. “You’re dancing. Now look up at me.”

“I am looking at you,” he said, and she could hear the wonder and amusement in his voice. But he slowly moved his eyes up, and she could feel the heat rolling off him as his gaze slipped slowly upwards. Up her skirts to the tight pinch of her waistline. From there to the corset that bound her tight, past her décolletage and at last to her face.

He was blushing.

Shan’s heart pounded a loud, unsteady beat in her chest. This was ridiculous—she had danced with countless others before, been subject to their leers and their greedy hands. Samuel hadn’t moved an inch beyond propriety—blood and steel, he was barely touching her, with her leading—but his cheeks were flushed the most delicate pink, and his lips were parted ever so slightly.

She wondered how he would taste—if his kiss would be soft and sweet, or as fierce and passionate as the fire that burned within him.

Shan closed the extra space between them, stepping closer and turning her head so that she couldn’t see his face. There was something far too intimate about this, and she tried to ignore the longing that spread through her, warming her from the inside out.

“Your dress is lovely,” he whispered. “So… lacy.”

Shan breathed out a laugh, relaxing against him. “You’re so talented with words, my Lord Aberforth.”

“What? It is.” His voice was low and gentle, and Shan ignored the shiver that rippled across her skin. “It looks good on you. You’re my own lace-wrapped hero.”

“Casually saving you from disaster.”

“I’d hardly call fumbling a dance a disaster,” Samuel huffed.

Shan’s throat clenched. “That’s where you’d be wrong, Samuel. It would be.” There was so much that he didn’t know, but he had her. He was investment, she told herself, and she would be sure that he was worth the cost. She was already thinking of ways to spin this—there would be rumors throughout Dameral, sparked by this scandalous dance. She could take him under her wing, play into the expectations. It wouldn’t be the most ridiculous thing; everyone would be trying to.

She just got to him first, long before anyone would even have guessed.

“Well, then, I’m lucky to have you on my side.”

Shan laughed. “Yes, you are. And I promise that next time you won’t be so unprepared.”

The tempo picked up, and she led him into the next movement, spinning him out from her and then back in again. The eyes of the entire crowd were on them, and Samuel was no master but she was strong enough to guide him where he needed to go. It was rather crude and inelegant, but she didn’t mind. It was shockingly fun.

He rolled back into her arms with a surprised “Oh.”

“That’s just the first one,” she warned, and then they spun and twirled their way across the floor, Shan leading them expertly through the pattern.

“How do you know this?” Samuel asked as he pressed close to her again.

She spun him out for the last time, then pulled him close and flush for the final movement. “I never do anything by halves, Samuel.” She braced herself for the censure, for the judgement, for quite literally leading him into this madness.

But when she looked up, his smile was soft and genuine. “You continue to surprise me, Shan.”

She swallowed hard, then looked away, guiding him through the end of the dance. The last notes of the song rang heavy over the room, low and ominous, and Shan swore she could feel it reverberating in her blood.

And then it was over, and couples were stepping apart from each other all across the dance floor. They clung to each other for a moment longer than necessary, their hearts still beating in time.

“Thank you,” Samuel said. “For everything. I hope we can do this again.”

She wet her lips. “I hope so, too,” she said, her voice strangely rough.