Page 54 of The Wind and the Wild (The Keepers of Faerie #1)

The current dance is more of a group festivity than a partnered one, so I’m happily drawn into the mix by one of the village boys I don’t know.

By the time I’ve passed through a dozen sets of hands and have received plenty of smiles from familiar and unfamiliar faces, I can no longer see Blain from my place near the center of the dancing and consider myself quite smart for my escape.

Finally catching sight of Una and Niall, I notice a handful of lupine flowers peeking out from his back pocket.

He pulls one out and tucks it into her hair as they move.

In the distance, I spot Olivia and Andrew watching, Niall’s father joining in similar surprise.

Soon, all such flowers will be woven into Una’s braids, noticeable to everyone.

I manage not to laugh too loudly, my heart squeezing.

The music changes tempo, and everyone begins partnering off, mostly with whoever they happened to be standing with at the time. I’ve found myself with a cute little boy no older than twelve who’s giving another girl across the field a sad look.

“ Go ask her to dance,” I say, then send him trotting off across the flattened grass while I grin after. Somewhere, Cara is probably asking the boy she has a crush on to dance as well. Midsummer is not necessarily love in the air, but it might as well be.

In the past, would the Gentry truly slip from the trees and dance with us humans until we collapsed?

If there was ever a time when it happened, it seems quite far off.

A hand curls under my elbow, and suspicion lodges in my chest even before I glance back and see Blain’s pale hair in the moonlight. In no mood, I grab his wrist and remove his hand, shaking my palm as if he’s dirtied my fingers.

He chuckles, which only serves to heighten my annoyance. “ I wanted to see if you’ll dance with me?”

“ I will not—” I start, then pause, turning to face him fully. “ Why? ”

“ Pardon? ”

We ’re barely avoiding getting bumped into by dozens of dancers swirling around us. I don’t particularly care to move or try to maneuver out of the field with Blain scampering after me.

“ Why do you keep trying to speak to me? Any man with a pinch of dignity under these circumstances would not be asking me to dance.”

The pleasant smile turns a little harsh, then twists back into place with some effort. “ Perhaps a man with a pinch of dignity wishes to be friendly.”

I cannot tell if that is supposed to impress or soften me. It does neither.

“ I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

I mean to turn and walk away with some amount of calm, but he catches me again by the hem of my sleeve, making to put his hand on my waist. “ One dance, that won’t—”

“ Would you like me to scream?”

Across the field, Niall has noticed the situation, and both he and Una have paused to stare. If I show any signs of distress, the fight that breaks out this midsummer will be right in front of me.

I’m very tempted to show a sign of distress.

“ Lots of girls scream on midsummer,” he says with a chuckle, but it doesn’t sound the same as if such a joke came from any other man. “ There are too many fae about not to. And you’ve been into Faerie too many times to be worried about me. Come along, one dance won’t be so bad. You’ll—”

My back bumps into someone else’s chest. Someone rather tall.

Honeysuckle overwhelms the scents of pastries and cooked meats and women’s perfumes.

My cheeks burn without needing to see the shadow cast across me, even as my heart leaps.

Blain’s expression drains of all emotion as he stares over my head.

I’m assuming he’d run if he were slightly less startled.

Aidyn’s nose brushes ever so slightly against my ear, sending a chill down my neck and into my shoulder. “ Flower, would you like to dance?”

“ Very much so,” I whisper, stepping back farther against him as Blain’s hand slides off my sleeve with no resistance.

“ I’m not used to such dances; you may have to lead,” Aidyn says, and nevertheless steps gracefully into the other dancers with his arm around my waist, the two of us spinning away from the human left flummoxed in the middle of the field.

“ Lovely mask,” I tell him, staring up into the paper mask he must have snatched from one of the carts—it seems ridiculous on him, a little like a wolf, particularly when no one else seems to have noticed a sudden and true faerie among their dancing.

It only covers the top half of his face, so I see his grin perfectly well.

“ Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

Carefully, he withdraws his hand from mine to adjust my mask which fell crooked with Blain’s handling, still leading the dance despite his claims.

“ But ’tis midsummer,” he objects with that teasing little tone that crops up every time he is attempting to distract me from fussing over him.

I purse my lips, trying with all my strength not to smile too much at his sudden appearance, but to no avail.

I am unreasonably pleased. He still has his cane—I feel it against my back where his arm is woven around me, keeping my body pressed to his.

We’re dancing a little slower, and he seems to be treading carefully on his sore leg as far as I can tell—or as far as he is putting on a good show.

I don’t have enough conviction to tell him to stop spinning me about under the stars on midsummer and realize I sound like quite the silly lovestruck child.

I don’t care much about that either.

“ One dance,” I tell him, holding up a finger from where our hands are folded together. “ Then we go find a place we can get off our feet.”

“ Yes, yes, my dear pushy little human.”

It sounds like a compliment coming from him. “ I’m not the one dancing when he should be healing.”

“ No, but I do believe you would if given half a chance.” He drops his head back to gaze at the stars, and I’m impressed he doesn’t spin us into one of the other couples. “ How fares your ankle?”

He has me there... a little. “ Doing quite well, thank you.”

He grins and returns his face to just over mine. “ Why the masks, hmm? This is not a tradition I am familiar with.”

“ So you may dance with the fae all night and all morning until sunrise, and they know neither your name nor your face to find you again.”

“ Oh? What if I wish to find you again?”

I lean closer. “ I think you’ll have an easy time of it. Besides, no true faerie has come out to dance in decades, as far as I’ve heard.”

“ No? What a pity. I should’ve come dancing sooner.”

I laugh. “ I would’ve been like everyone else here: not seeing you unless you wanted.”

“ Hmm,” he agrees, glancing at our fellow dancers. “ They will not see me unless I am drawn to their attention. I doubt they will remember me much. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

I’ve almost forgotten I was extracting myself from Blain’s newfound interest. “ You were a few minutes late, I think.”

He quirks an eyebrow through the gaps in the papery-thin mask, and I get the impression that he would’ve liked to do something much more faerie in nature to Blain if I and so many villagers hadn’t been swarming him.

Or perhaps if I hadn’t been watching. After the story I told, I cannot blame him much.

If Una told me such a story, I’d become a sudden and intense acquaintance to violence.

“ Nonsense, my timing is impeccable. He’ll remember me.” He says the last part wickedly.

I cannot imagine what Aidyn would look like to me were I not swept up in his arms. As I attempt to call to mind how frightening he appeared when first I laid eyes upon him, all I see are those same eyes when they peered down at me in the dark of Faerie, pressing me safely into the grass, and how they watch me now.

“’Tis a shame you didn’t bring flowers,” I mumble too softly over the music and all the laughter.

From inside the neck of his shirt, he draws out a little bluebell much like the one he left on my barn fence.

I laugh so much it makes it difficult to keep up the dance steps. “ Where do you keep finding those?”

“’Tis a secret,” he declares, quite pleased with himself, twirling the flower between two fingers, the rest still woven between mine. “ I believe you told me it is for your hair?”

My cheeks turn warmer—between the moonlight and the mask, I wonder if his eyes see it. “ Well, it is quite a tradition to do so before you wish to kiss a girl.”

“ Oh? ” he asks again, still twirling the flower. “ I missed the tradition that first time, then, didn’ t I? ”

Well, he certainly remembers. “ Yes, but it hardly counts. We were almost asleep.”

“ Very true,” he says, then tucks the flower into my hair. I am suddenly quite happy Una insisted on weaving back a few of my locks where his fingers are tucking in the stem.

“ Much better,” I tell him, though my heart is tapping away at the inside of my ribs.

“ Hmm,” he agrees, stepping into a small gap in the dancers to slow to a standstill.

His face tips to mine, hand cupping my cheek and around the back of my neck, and he presses our lips ever so softly together.

I lean up onto my toes to let him better hold me, one arm still around his neck, other hand on his chin.

Our masks brush with a gentle rustle of paper.

I want to run my fingers across every bit of him, more so when his lips part and he leans back enough to breathe and kiss me again.

A couple bumps into us, startling me much more than Aidyn. Someone calls out an apology as they’re spun away across the field of dancers.

Aidyn chuckles, and the music changes tempo again.

I suck in a long breath and find my voice enough to tell him, “ That was your one dance.”

“ Oh—” He gets no chance to argue his case as I grasp his hand and lead him away, weaving through all the dancing and brushes of hands to the edge of the field where the wagons and carts have circled us in.

I don’t know the time and am not sure when I should check back on my pie, but if I’ve won, the ribbon will be there when I return.

“ Into the woods at night, hmm?” There is laughter in Aidyn’s voice.

“ This is hardly the woods,” I tell him, pausing only a dozen steps into the trees and the long grass, among a patch of lupine the children haven’t harvested.

Turning, I release his hand to pull his mask carefully over his head.

The mischief in his eyes matches that in his voice.

“ I made plenty of pastries. There should still be some left. Shall I steal some?”

This almost appears to distract him, and then he seats himself in the grass, toppling me down alongside him and half lying over me. “ Perhaps shortly.”

“ Something else on your mind?” I ask as he leans over, not quite trapping me beneath him but keeping me warm in the grasses, which are cooling in the summer night. The air still smells of rain, but the ground is not damp enough to notice.

Maneuvering until his cheek is propped against his hand, eyes just over mine, he unwinds my mask ribbons carefully, as if it’s my dress instead, running his fingers along my cheeks and around the corners of my eyes.

The cool of his rings against his otherwise warm skin startles me.

His brow furrows slightly, as if he can’t decide, as if my lips are not still warm from kissing him moments ago.

I would decide for him if I could remind myself how to break this silence, the intense gaze of his eyes locked onto mine.

Gently, he tips his head until the side of his nose skims mine.

“ Are you afraid?” he whispers, voice rough.

I shake my head, and it brushes my bottom lip against his.

“ Not at all?” It is not a tease or a flirt or a little toss of banter. His tone is soft, concerned, genuine. If I were far enough back to look into his eyes again, I imagine they’ d match.

My breath unlocks enough for me to whisper, “ Not at all.”

Another long hum of a breath follows, that soft sound I’ve come to associate with amusement or contentment.

.. or a little bit of avoidance when I’m asking uncomfortable questions.

His breath drifts against my cheek, and his lips press tenderly to mine.

Weaving my fingers carefully around the back of his neck, I lean against him where we’re curled together in the grasses.

Everything about him smells sweet, the sugary taste of the plums on his lips.

When he leans back, forehead resting against mine, his thumb drifts over my bottom lip.

Running my fingers through his hair, I think offhandedly about how soft it is, about how I’ve been thinking of doing this since I met him.

His lips drag down the side of my cheek, nose pressed to the curve of my neck, before he straightens enough to kiss me again.

I don’t know whether to close my eyes or keep watching the perfect planes of his face so close to mine.

“ Can I tell you my name?” I whisper.

“ If you wish.” His voice matches mine, tickling my skin. “ I do not need it. You may save it as long as you wish.”

“ I know, that is why I—”

Aidyn’s exploration of my neck stills, and I along with him. His head rises, silver eyes flickering into the dark of the woods. When I follow, I see nothing of note. His sudden stillness urges me to stay quiet. Instead, I squeeze his wrist.

His hand slips into mine, tightening in return.

Soundlessly, he presses a finger to his lips and eases back onto his knees, pulling me along.

The grass whispers under my movement, loud in comparison to all the sound he doesn’t make.

My heart is pounding for reasons having nothing to do with his closeness.

Standing, he helps me to my feet and points to the dancing.

I want to say his name, but I am afraid of running through the grasses, let alone speaking.

His eyes flicker to mine, and I try to impart my questions without sound.

He opens his mouth, then glares back at the festival, then at the forest and at me.

Something rustles in the deep dark of the woods, and a set of giant paws steps out.