Page 58 of Soulbound

"Yes, but—"

"No." He turned toward her, and breathed out slowly. "It's no excuse. I don't know how to manage you. I don't know how to be a husband. And I don't want to hurt you, but it feels like every time we're in the same room, I inevitably do."

"At least you're willing to be in the same room with me now."

"It wasn't you I was hiding from."

"Now who's the liar?"

Sebastian stepped closer, capturing the lapels of the coat she had over her shoulders. His knuckles brushed together, and he tugged her a little closer, until her skirts pressed against his trousers. "When you speak of dreams it's hard for me, because I've never dared dream. And I can see it. What you speak of." His voice grew heavy with longing that even he heard. "It's like a snow globe, filled with a beautiful scene I can't quite touch, and it fills me with fear, for what if I drop the globe? What if I smash the dream?" His thumb skated over her cheek, as he searched her gaze, hoping she understood what he was trying to say.

"You won't drop the globe." Cleo brushed her cheek against his hand. "I trust you... more than you trust yourself."

He breathed out a laugh. "I ruined your night."

"Lady Beaumont ruined my night," she said, a little fiercely. "And I have a very great desire to have words with her over that."

"Don't," he warned. "She's not the type of woman who'd stop at mere words."

"When I used that particular statement, it wasn't exactly what I meant."

Cleo had always been a warrior when it came to him. "When did you become so fierce?"

"When I realized I had something to fight for. Why don't we start the night over again?" she suggested.

"How do we do that?"

Cleo looked up at the stars. "You tell me I look beautiful. Indeed, you're quite welcome to tell me such a thing every day if you feel like it."

"You look beautiful," he said, looking down at her upturned face. His voice softened. "You look like everything I've ever dreamed about."

"And you—" She paused for a moment, as if sorting through her words. "—seem a rather intriguing gentleman."

"You came for the ball," he said.

"It's my first. My father never allowed me to attend the balls. But... I always dreamed about them." A soft smile graced her lips, her eyes staring into the distance as if she saw something he didn't. "I used to imagine I was some sort of princess, and a handsome prince would sweep me off my feet and insist on taking all of my dances."

"And is the night living up to your expectations?"

"No princes. No dancing. But it's been quite lovely, and I guess I must grow up someday and shed such dreams."

Silence fell between them.

The night was still, the gardens awash in lantern-light and mage globes.

He didn't quite know what came over him, but Sebastian cleared his throat, as strains of a waltz began to creep from the ballroom. "May I have this dance?"

Those beautiful brown eyes widened, but it was her hesitation that made the muscles in his gut clench. Cleo was brave and bold, but he'd been pushing her away for too long. Done too well at keeping the distance between them, and now he could see the wariness written all over her face.

"No expectations, Cleo," he whispered, holding out his hand. "No promises. I just want to dance with you. Just once. Why not celebrate the Ascension together? Fulfill at least one of your dreams?"

He could do this, at least.

"All right," she whispered, and shrugged out of his coat. The silk of her gloves slid over his hands, and she stepped toward him. "Just once."

Some distant part of him knew this was a mistake. Especially if he intended to grant her an annulment. Sebastian drew her into his grasp, his thighs pressed against her skirts. Cleo didn't quite fit against him—she was half a foot shorter than he—but somehow it worked.

It felt so right.