Page 17 of A Touch of Fate

After dinner, the dance floor was prepared for the following festivities.

My stomach tightened with nerves. This was actually the part of the wedding I was the most nervous about—maybe not the most…

that was the wedding night. But I worried about how Samuel and I would master our dance.

Of course, I could move to the music in my wheelchair—I had done so often with Giorgia when we’d partied to our favorite songs in our rooms—but I’d never danced with someone while in a wheelchair.

Samuel and I had never practiced doing so, and I feared rolling over his feet while trying to dance with him.

Mom looked ready to combust with nerves.

She was probably even more worried than me about all the possible things that could go wrong.

When everything was set up, Samuel leaned toward me. “I’ll carry you toward the dance floor, and if you think you can do it, I’ll help you through the song.”

I swallowed and gave a nod. “If you hold me up, I can do a song.”

“All right,” Samuel murmured and rose to his feet.

Everyone’s eyes settled on us, but I ignored them.

I wanted this moment to be Samuel’s and mine.

I didn’t want other people’s judgment to ruin this for me.

I motioned at my heels. I doubted I could stand a single moment on them.

My balance was too impaired. Samuel understood and got down on one knee in front of me.

Heat shot into my cheeks when he touched my ankle and carefully slid my heels off.

I couldn’t feel his touch, but I still felt a flood of tingles shoot through my body.

Samuel straightened once more and picked me up as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed my other hand against his chest, not because I needed to steady myself but because it felt good to feel his steady heartbeat and strength.

When we arrived on the dance floor, Samuel carefully put me on my feet, but he held most of my weight until I found my balance.

Yet even then, he still firmly held on to my waist. “Ready?” he asked in a low voice, his blue eyes locking on mine.

A low murmur had picked up among the guests, but I still didn’t look.

I only had eyes for Samuel, my husband. It was still difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that I was a married woman now.

“Yes.”

My heartbeat was racing, and my mouth was becoming increasingly dry.

Samuel gave a sign to the band, and they played the first notes of the slow waltz.

I’d danced the waltz often before but never like this, not once since my accident.

Samuel began swaying lightly to the music, and I did the same.

For a moment, I was sure my legs would slip away, but Samuel tightened his hold around my waist.

We swayed to the music for a long time, my hands resting on Samuel’s strong shoulders.

Samuel held my waist. From the outside, it probably looked as if he was simply touching me, but his hands were the reason I could stay upright for so long.

My fingers clutched his shoulders, and his hands supported me.

He carried most of my weight as we danced.

I didn’t mind that we couldn’t do a waltz.

This back-and-forth swaying was more than I’d dared to hope for, and it filled my heart with so much joy and gratefulness that I had trouble keeping the grin off my face despite the strain I felt in my legs.

I peered up and gave Samuel another grateful smile. His expression, as usual, was emotionless, controlled, and on the verge of brooding.

“Am I getting too heavy?” I asked with a hint of worry. I was much smaller than Samuel, and he looked and felt really strong, but I imagined it wasn’t easy to dance with so much additional weight.

He gave me a small smile. “I can handle it. Don’t worry about me.”

My eyebrows rose, and my expression became teasing. “So you’re saying I’m heavy.” I flushed, surprised by my own courage.

“I didn’t, and I won’t. I learned a lesson or two about the traps men can walk into in a marriage by watching my parents. To some questions, there are only wrong answers.”

The song ended, and Danilo took over from Samuel before I could say anything.

I had to admit I missed being in Samuel’s arms, even if his touch was still foreign.

After the dance with my brother, he brought me back to my wheelchair.

I wished I could keep dancing. It always made me happy.

Maybe one day I would dance as a hobby again.

Samuel appeared at the table, dropping his sister Sofia off. She and Danilo took off for another dance, and I watched them with longing.

Samuel cleared his throat, drawing my gaze up to his face.

He held out his hand. “Would you give me the honor of another dance?”

I bit my lip, nervously glancing around as I felt the gazes of the people at the surrounding tables on us. One dance had been expected, but this definitely caught the attention of several people.

I put my hand in Samuel’s, then whispered, “I’d like to dance in my wheelchair.”

Samuel nodded slowly, but I could see the questions in his expression.

I too wasn’t sure how slow dancing with someone would work.

He led me toward the dance floor. We stayed at the edge so I wouldn’t roll over any feet.

I had never tried a waltz since my accident.

Samuel’s cool and resolute expression gave me confidence, so I extended my arms so he could clasp my hands. “Let me know if I do it wrong.”

I gave him a nervous smile. “I wouldn’t know. It’s the first time I’ve done a waltz like this.”

He nodded again, appearing even more determined.

He pushed me back, then pulled me closer again, back and forth, back and forth, until I felt confident to release one of his hands and do a twirl.

I giggled when I managed to avoid rolling over his feet.

I had to pay for my overconfidence a moment later—or, rather, Samuel had to pay for it—as I rolled over his toes during another twirl.

“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed at the brief flash of discomfort on his face.

“I’m used to living on the edge,” he said in such a humorless tone that I couldn’t stop a flood of giggles from bursting out.

Samuel’s mouth briefly twitched into a smile, and my worries over how this day would go evaporated.

Our eyes met. “Thank you.”

“What for?” I asked. Emma looked at me as if I’d given her a great gift. I hope she wasn’t thanking me for marrying her because she’d soon realize I wasn’t the fucking catch everyone made me out to be.

“For dancing with me like this,” she said with a small laugh as if it should have been obvious.

Her eyes sparkled with happiness, and all I could think about was how she could still be such a positive person after all the shit that’d been thrown at her.

Hearing her carefree giggles had given me a burst of positivity I hadn’t felt in forever.

“You’re my wife. You deserve as many wedding dances as you desire.”

For all the shit you’ll have to put up with while being married to me.

The song drew to an end, but I didn’t stop moving back and forth with Emma, and when the next song began, she tried another twirl.

When she didn’t roll over my feet this time, she looked immensely pleased with herself. “How are your toes?”

I gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry about me. That was nothing. I can tolerate a lot of pain, and this is far less painful than the social chitchat at these gatherings.”

Her eyebrows rose, and her expression became teasing.

“So you prefer me rolling over your feet to talking to me?” She flushed.

I’d always only seen Emma’s quiet and shy side, so I too was surprised, not unpleasantly though.

If she wasn’t quite as breakable, that would make things easier for me.

Today, her personality had shone through several times.

“I don’t. Talking to you has been surprisingly pleasant so far.”

“Do you say it because you learned that lesson from watching your parents’ marriage or because it’s true?”

“It’s true, but said lessons definitely play a part too.”

She giggled, then bit her lip, looking away. After a moment, she cast her gaze back up, watching me through her long lashes. “I can’t wait to see what lessons you learned.”

A dirty joke lay on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it at the last moment.

For some reason, I was unsure how to handle Emma when it came to the bedroom.

We’d never breached the subject of sex for multiple reasons.

It had felt inappropriate for a long time due to her age.

She was eight years younger, dammit. Plus, we rarely talked alone.

And for some reason, it felt as if I was taking advantage of her.

Her disability made her seem so vulnerable that making advances on her felt like I was using her.

“Why are you frowning?” she asked, worry filling her beautiful face.

“It’s nothing,” I clipped.

“Of course.” She became tense, and I wanted to kick myself.

I’d have to figure this shit out by tonight.

Maybe it would be best if I just talked to her, even if it embarrassed her.

I could hardly talk to Danilo about this even though he was the one who knew her best. The thought of his enraged face if I did talk about the wedding night cheered me up considerably.

“Let’s enjoy another dance,” I suggested, and her hand relaxed in mine once again. After that dance, Danilo took over again, giving me another hard look. He should know that I was immune to it by now.

Despite my desire to return to the table for a glass of wine, it was my turn to dance with my mother next.