Page 54

A Dance

Rumi

The two of them made their way to the main thoroughfare where they met a man in a crimson vest.

His skin was the umber of tree branches, a golden vitality hidden under the rich, dark bark.

“Welcome to the Ambassade, I’m Benny,”

he greeted, in a musical voice, his wide, open grin remarkable in the mass of sullen faces.

“The ballroom is just to the right, smokeroom to the left, and the dining area is topside.

There is also a pool and boutique.

Would you like a tour?”

he asked Rumi.

She lit up at the opportunity to truly experience this other culture, hoping it might bring some understanding when she returned to her people.

“Oh, yes please.”

A lively tune carried into the somber air, light plunky notes that brought a smile to her face and made her want to discard her shoes and dance.

She was finally on her way back home.

The molding and carved architecture had her pausing just before the door, staring up in amazement at the craftsmanship.

Each window in the long orderly line had ornate decor carved into the sills.

The lobby gleamed.

Golden accents crowned white stone that seemed to capture the light from the gilded chandeliers above, making the stone sparkle with pinpoints of aqua, teal, and pink.

Wide square tiles covered the floor, alternating black and white like a gameboard across the entire floor.

Black velvet cushions adorned white plush couches tufted with golden buttons, inviting her to sink into their decadent comfort.

Rumi could not believe that all this was on a ship.

Benny showed them the smokeroom and gambling hall, the boutique and office section, where some men were sitting at desks quietly writing.

Every room was enormous and nearly as grand as the entire ship itself.

Cal said very little during their tour, only smiling at her occasionally or squeezing her hand.

At the boutique, they saw a dress that made her breath stall.

She looked up at Callum, her grin betraying her excitement.

She let her fingers run over the silky fabric.

“Oh, that caught yer eye, huh? You can jus’ put it on th’ tab.”

Benny winked at Callum.

“Th’tab?”

“Yes ma’am.

Your tickets were paid in advance with a fairly hefty tab included.”

She chewed her lip with disappointment and her fingers fell to her side.

“Perhaps another time.”

As they walked away, she met Cal’s questioning look with a shrug.

“We may need th’tab for something else of more importance.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgment, his expression thoughtful, if a bit troubled.

He did not say much, letting her lead the way as she admired all the gleaming treasures in the boutique.

The walk back to the suite was long and filled with an opulence that still made her eyes wide though she tried not to gape too openly.

Even their room was grander than anything she had ever stayed in.

There was a knock at the door and Jameson peeked his face inside.

“Hey you two, enjoying our lovely accommodations?”

Rumi nodded, her smile so wide it hurt her cheeks.

She noticed that Callum was not smiling.

“Jameson, may I speak with you outside?”

he said.

He still had that small frown on his face.

“Sure thing,”

Jameson smiled back at Rumi and then stepped back out, holding the door for Cal.

As soon as it closed, she could hear hissing whispers of a hushed argument.

She overheard Callum say Weston’s name, but could not make out much else.

With a sigh, she decided to look around the room and see what she might discover.

It went quiet for a small amount of time, but when she peeked outside the door, only Jameson was there.

Where had Callum gone? She dipped back inside before Jameson could see her and went back to her perusing. Then there was another knock and Callum stepped into the room. She could tell it was him without looking, his presence so familiar to her now.

“What is an ‘aigret’?”

She asked, finally turning toward him, pointing to a picture on the wall and the plaque below it.

Her eyes positively gobbled him up with the slow lingering look that trailed all the way down to his shiny shoes and back up to his eyes.

His suit was cut to perfection, tapering in at the waist in a way that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders.

Her mouth went dry.

“An egret is a bird.”

“Oh.”

She looked closer at the picture.

“I knew that.”

“I bought you something,”

he said, pulling a box from beneath his arm.

“So you can enjoy this time we have.”

“What is it?”

she gasped, springing up from the seat and dashing closer.

It had been many years since she had received a gift.

Within the box was a fluff of crimson satin.

It had lace and beads texturing the rigid parts of it.

The dress from the boutique.

“Oh my,”

she whispered on a breath.

“You should not have.”

He smiled, the first real smile since Benny had mentioned th’tab, and gave a small shrug.

“Yes, I should’ve.”

With a squeal, she disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and changed into her underthings.

She slipped the stays over her front and tightened the laces as much as she could before stepping into the foyer where he waited.

“Would you help me?”

she asked, holding the gown up at her chest.

Callum, though red-faced, assisted her with the large ball gown, the satin settling over her skin like flower petals.

Puffed sleeves accentuated the way the bodice cinched her waist.

The gloves to her elbow and satin-slippered feet seemed to complete the ensemble.

Then he held up a velvet box containing two pearl combs and jewelry.

“The mistress in the shop suggested these,”

he explained with a smile.

Together they pinned her errant curls away from her face and allowed the dark tresses to hang long down her back.

He finished the look with a necklace and teardrop earrings that matched the combs.

“I feel beautiful and also like a fancy bird ready to mate,”

she joked, giving the gown a swirl.

“Miss Rumi, one more thing.”

Cal’s eyes grew serious, and he pressed his fingers to his chin, his cheeks, and the center of his forehead.

Her tattoos.

She blanched as she realized the cosmetics must have rubbed off.

Her heart was still pounding when she dashed to the mirror and dabbed the concealer over her tattoos to hide the dark lines that gave her away.

Then, a dash of blush and a swipe of lipstick to draw attention there instead.

Callum gulped when she emerged again, and then swallowed a second time.

“You look…stunning.”

The words caught on her tongue and she was not sure what to say, so she just kissed his cheek.

Wordlessly, he offered his hand—the perfect gentleman—and led them to the ballroom.

The music swelled, rolling and filling the grand room as they entered.

How it was possible to fit such a grand room on a ship, she could not guess.

As far as she could tell, the ship had three levels, and it looked as if the ballroom took up nearly the entirety of the second floor.

Other couples in finery were already dancing, their skirts swishing and spinning in a blinding array of colors.

“Ready?”

“I do not know this dance,”

she hissed, clutching his arm as he drew her closer.

“Three-count from the music.

One, two, three.

Very quick, but it’s there.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.

Got it? Now count: one, two, three, four, five, six. For you…you won’t be able to feel my moving with all those skirts. You’ll be moving backward for part, opposite me.”

He lifted one hand in his and placed the other on the small of her back.

“Can you feel this?”

His fingers pushed against the left of her spine.

She nodded, unable to speak.

“How about that?”

His thumb pushed to the right.

“That tells you which leg to move.

I’ll try to talk you through it.

With your grace, you’ll catch on fast.”

And she did.

No one watching them would have guessed they had not danced to this song before.

They were the picture of grace and poise.

Soon Rumi had the attention of many others as she danced alongside Callum.

She ignored the warmth emanating from his hand and the muscles flexing beneath his suit coat.

At least she tried to.

As the song ended, she was loath to part from him.

Cal’s smile was genuine, and the flush in his cheeks, she guessed, was only partly from dancing.

“You are perfect,”

he said softly.

“A natural dancer.”

When the music faded, there was a brief hiatus for attendees and musicians alike to grab a breather or a cocktail.

One tall, thin, kind-faced gentleman, clad in a formal jacket, approached the couple.

One hand outstretched to Rumi with the other tucked behind his back as he dipped his auburn head and, in a thick accent, asked something of her.

Rumi looked to Callum, unsure, but he smiled and dipped his nose near Rumi’s skin, brushing his lips against her shoulder as he said, “He’d like to dance with you.”

With a rueful sigh that sent butterflies skittering through her blood, he stood up straight.

“It is customary to dance with multiple partners.

I’m afraid it would be quite rude to decline.”

Her stomach flared with something akin to nervousness or excitement, she could not decide.

Her embarrassment at the idea of bungling these unfamiliar patterns was conquered only by her love of the music.

The gentle intensity had lulled her into another realm entirely.

“Two dances with other partners,”

Cal encouraged, a quiet smile urging her on.

“Then I will rescue you once more.”

Her cheeks felt unnaturally warm when his eyes lingered on hers, unblinking and intense.

The strings of the ensemble set into the next tune, a lighthearted melody building to a grand overture to set the dancers in place.

Then, at the conductor’s behest, a woman in a grand azure gown softly sang the aria, her voice radiant like a bird’s warble, growing and lifting with the introduction of a harp.

She sang in a language Rumi did not understand, but her opera was so tender that even with a new partner Rumi felt at ease.

Rumi could not help but watch over her partner’s shoulder when they spun together in place.

Cal was looking on from the side, eyes glued to her.

The last ship she had been on, he had captured her.

In this moment, she felt their roles had switched and she had captured him.

When the song ended, applause for the vocalist erupted from dancers and spectators alike.

Rumi’s partner kissed her knuckles, thanking her for the dance as another eager man stepped forward to claim his place.

He was a sailor by the name of Jaz, he told her, and were it not for a bushy mustache, he would have looked like an adolescent.

He flashed her a toothy smile and swept her into another turn on the floor.

Her former partner had been so practiced that she could follow his lead, and she had done so with ease.

The same could not be said of her current suitor.

Jaz was more than happy to twirl her about.

The rhythm by which they glided was one of their own making, and she was all the merrier for it.

They laughed at each other when they misstepped to the strings’ bouncing jig.

Both almost crashed together, recovering in time to dip out of the way of the next couple whirling beside them.

He was not as proper or practiced as others but it made their conversation relatable and light though their steps were clumsy and rough.

She could not contain her delighted grin that stretched from ear to ear, though her jaw was beginning to stiffen. He in turn snorted and spun her in place as lights twisted around her like strings of fireflies.

The tune was coming to a close and her eager companion was in the midst of requesting another dance, clearly not aware of the rules she had just been taught.

She did not have a moment to decline.

Cal was there the instant the final note struck, approaching from behind.

His hand already at the small of her back, his other hand under her palm, thumb stroking her knuckles, boldly claiming her once again.

“May I?”

She could not swallow her racing heart as it rose further into her throat from the way his eyes consumed her.

Her vision tunneled as she looked to this man beside her.

She was somehow lost, somehow found in his deep, emerald gaze.

She could not even bring herself to say yes, instead pressing herself closer to him when his strong arms enveloped her.

Jaz was but an unfortunate afterthought, and were she in her right mind, she would have felt bad about it.

But at this moment, her eyes were caught on Callum’s lips, which had never seemed so full and enticing.

Only his knowing smirk and the thrum of the next ballad could break the spell.

“I’m sorry,”

he said, not sounding the least bit like he meant it.

“I needed to have you back in my arms.”

“Were you jealous?”

she teased.

Cal cracked a smirk and shook his head with exasperation, admitting lowly, “You have no idea.”

They moved in tandem as naturally as the moon pulled the tides.

Where he led she followed, when he dipped she swayed, trusting herself to his care.

He spun her in place, crossing her arms in front with her back against his chest.

Shivers raced down her spine to the ends of her toes when he kissed her temple, the shadow of his beard prickling her skin.

“You look incredible.”

Cal’s hands roved across her midsection, hugging her to him before twirling her back around and letting his eyes meander over her before closing the distance, as if their brief separation offended him.

Rumi took the time to admire him.

Gods that suit did things to her imagination, sparking the memory of their earlier encounter.

She wondered what it would take to make him moan as she had.

“You look well yourself,”

she complimented, stroking the velvet of his lapel, its unnatural softness over his sturdy chest captivated her and made his face soften under her touch.

Rumi cleared her throat, trying to dismiss the image of him eclipsing her with this same tuxedo on the floor.

“Are you alright?”

Cal asked.

“Water,”

she choked out suddenly, needing a distraction from her fantasies.

Dutifully, he led her off the dance floor to a table where Jameson sat happily slurping a strange foamy soup and pulled a chair out for her to sit.

“Quite the moves, you two.

I liked the part where Cal glared at all your partners.”

He did a double-take from his food to Rumi before asking, “Are you okay?”

She quickly nodded.

“Just needed a rest.”

“Ah, well, once you’ve had it, may I have a dance, Miss Rumi?”

“For you, Jameson, of course,”

she replied.

His hazel eyes gleamed and she recalled the kindness he had tried to show her while she had been imprisoned.

He was a good man, too.

“Fuck off, Jameson,”

came Cal’s assertive rumble.

“Next time, then,”

Jameson replied with a shrug, unbothered by the grunting of his friend, and offered his goblet to her.

Callum set a warm hand on her shoulder, massaging tenderly, comforting her, and she shivered at the wicked promise woven into his touch.

Rumi smiled into the punch as she drank, her toes playfully tapping on the floor in rhythm with the music while Cal and Jameson bickered.

She could not think of the last time she had felt this happy, this safe, or this loved.