Chapter 12 Quinn #2
“Sounds lonely,” Thistle murmured as her gaze flicked to Mav.
He cast her a suspicious glance beneath lowered brows. “What?”
Her grin sharpened. “Isn’t it interesting that Quinn loves to dance?”
“Fascinating.” Mav’s expression didn’t shift, though he gritted his teeth.
A thud sounded beneath the table. Mav winced, glaring at her, but she only sipped her ale as if nothing had transpired between them.
After a pause, Mav stood and spoke more forcefully than before, as if dragging the words through mud.“Quinn, would you…like to dance?”
I blinked. “With you?”
“No, with Vesper.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “Yes, with me.”
My heart stuttered. “Do you…want to?”
He held my gaze steadily, even as something indecipherable flickered behind his eyes. “Even though I was initially under duress, yes, I want to dance.”
I smiled and nodded too eagerly. “Yes. I would be delighted.”
He offered his hand, and I slid mine into his. His palm was warm and calloused, steady as he guided me toward the cleared space by the hearth where others had already begun to sway and spin. A lively folk tune bounded between bodies and stomping boots.
To my bewilderment, Mav moved as if he had done this before. Confident but unshowy, his hand catching mine, his grip steady as he spun me once. Twice. A laugh tore free from my throat.
“You are quite a gifted dancer,” I said breathlessly.
He shot me a sideways grin. “I’m offended that you sound surprised.”
My eyes widened. “I meant no offense.”
“I’m teasing you, princess.”
“I am not a princess.”
We moved through two more songs, conversation folding into the spaces between the steps, shoulders brushing, hands finding each other more often than they needed to. Something warm unwound inside me, loosening in time with the music.
The melody slowed.
A softer tune wove through the air, tender and low, a ballad brimming with longing. Mav did not ask for another dance. He closed the distance between us, raising our joined hands, and settled the other against my back.
I stilled.
The touch was not overly bold, and yet I felt him everywhere.
The heat of his palm, the press of his thumb at the curve of my waist, the space—or lack of it—between us.
I lifted my other hand to rest upon his shoulder in a proper dance position.
My breath faltered as we began to turn in quiet circles, the edges of the room blurring into nothing.
I tightened my hold but did not lift my gaze, a wave of sudden shyness crashing over me.
The song faded into its finishing notes, sighing its final breath. Applause rose around us in a bright swell of clapping and exclamations.
Mav and I stood frozen in time, encircled in each other’s arms.
I looked up.
And found his gaze already waiting.
Our surroundings fell away entirely, leaving only the rise and fall of his breath, the faint gold of the lamplight caught in his lashes, and the unguarded softness in his expression.
His gaze dipped to my mouth—for a heartbeat, no longer—then returned to my eyes.
A single, fragile moment stretched between us, filled with everything we had not dared to say.
He startled as though waking from a dream, and drew back, releasing me.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice roughened, quieter than before. “I almost—” He stopped. Swallowed. “Thanks. For the dances.”
I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, keeping my tone steady, though my pulse did not match it. “Thank you for asking.”
We lingered a breath longer, neither of us looking directly at the other, neither willing to turn away.
At last, he cleared his throat. “We should join the group.”
“Of course,” I agreed.
We made our way to join the others at the entrance. Mav held the door open, and I stepped into the cool night air, the ghost of his hand still imprinted at the small of my back.
The floorboards creaked beneath my bare feet as I padded into the guest room above Branrir’s shop, the thin cotton of my new sleepwear whispering against my skin. Mav was already inside, half-reclined on the cot across from mine, one arm tucked beneath his head.
As I entered, his gaze flicked toward me.
A quick, sharp flash of green and gold in the dim light—then gone, tucked neatly behind practiced indifference.
Perhaps he had only been polite earlier.
Perhaps the touch upon my cheek with the ink smudge or the dances had not held the same significance for him as they had for me.
I crossed to my cot and lowered myself carefully onto the edge, fingers worrying at the hem of my sleeve. “Thank you,” I said softly, not quite looking at him. “For today. For…all of it.”
Mav made a low sound in his throat, something caught between acknowledgment and amusement. “You’re the one who managed to charm half the printing staff into letting you run the press. I just stood there, trying not to look too impressed.”
I allowed myself a small smile. “You did look rather impressed.”
That earned a short laugh from him. “You looked happy.”
“I am happy with you.”
The words struck like flint, too intimate after the day we had shared. Embarrassment flared hot in my chest. “I merely meant, I felt an abundance of happiness with the events of today.”
He angled his head to more fully look upon me. His voice gentled, quiet enough I nearly missed it. “As did I.”
His answer wrapped me in a touchless embrace. I wished to burrow inside it, to memorize the shape of this simple gladness before the world could steal it away. My eyes drifted closed, the tether strumming in harmony with my fluttering heartbeat.
I had not wanted to need him, but some part of me already did.