Chapter 9 #2
“Lord knows my siblings and I didn’t,” he said without thinking. “Or, we didn’t when I used to see them on a regular basis.” Surprisingly, he missed that aspect of his family, the friendly bantering, the good-natured teasing, the noise.
“I don’t know who was more horrible: your brother or your sisters,” Lucy agreed with a nod.
“In my children’s case, Simon is the oldest, and since he considers himself the man of the house, he thinks it’s his duty to dictate what Beatrice should or shouldn’t do.
For my daughter’s part, she’s too stubborn and independent for her own good, which vexes her brother. ”
“She takes after her mother,” Colin said in a low voice. “Your father wasn’t best pleased when you developed a tendre for me, what he considered a wastrel with no future.”
Lucy remained quiet for long moments, and when he assumed she wouldn’t respond, she finally said, “Papa only wished to see me happy. He didn’t understand you.”
“Did you?” he asked softly, not daring to peek at her.
“Yes, I think I did on many levels.”
“But not the one that mattered most.” Instead of the bitterness that usually accompanied the remembrances of their past, a longing filled him, not for a return of those seemingly idyllic times, but for something more, something new.
Her hand tightened on his arm. “That was the past, and something I don’t wish to talk about at this time.”
“Fair enough.” He contented himself with escorting her through the festival grounds.
When he offered to buy her sweets or foodstuffs, she refused every suggestion.
Her smile never returned. Colin let her lapse into silence as he pored over how to give her back a portion of the happiness she’d returned to him after he’d bared his feelings.
“You used to love Christmas, Lucy. It troubles me to see you so maudlin.”
“I do still enjoy the holiday, but now it’s shadowed by memories both good and bad. I…” She sighed. “I struggle with them all.”
So did he. There was small comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone. “That is life, though, don’t you think? It’s made more rich by all those memories, more dear, and over time, the emotions attached will fade. They leave behind the lessons, the stories.”
She nodded. “Perhaps there has not been enough time, for the upcoming holiday will also come with its share of both.”
There was no more time for conversation, for Ellen joined them, just as the band prepared to play a new song. “Will you dance, Father?” Her eyes twinkled.
“I haven’t danced in years, love.” In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d danced. Certainly not with her mother.
She stopped short of stamping her foot. “How am I supposed to learn such a societal skill if you don’t show me?”
Colin tamped down the urge to roll his eyes. “I shall hire a dancing instructor you can learn from when you’re not in class.”
“That’s no fun,” she complained as the first strains of what sounded like a waltz sailed through the crisp winter air.
As the song continued, Lucy grew sadder until tears shone in her eyes.
Concerned, Colin peered into her face. “Why the need to become a watering pot? Have I said something untoward?”
“No.” She released her hold on his arm in order to dab at her eyes with the edge of her cloak.
“This piece reminds me of Jacob. He gave me a music box after Simon’s birth.
It played this waltz, but its springs cease to wind now.
I…” The look she bestowed upon him shredded his heart.
“I haven’t heard this song in many years. ”
Inspiration struck. With a wink at Ellen, Colin gently propelled Lucy toward the gathering of people who danced as if on a grand floor of a ballroom.
He encouraged the widow into his arms while his daughter looked on, her eyes wide, and without words he guided Lucy into the steps of the waltz while sliding one hand into hers and the other to the small of her back.
He’d lied before; he’d known exactly when he’d danced the last time.
Seventeen years ago, that memorable Christmas with Lucy, they’d danced together in his father’s ballroom to a song very much like this one, and afterward, they’d slipped outside on the frost-gilded terrace, where he’d kissed her, uncaring if anyone saw them.
In that moment only they two had existed.
He revisited that moment now, except they weren’t sharing a kiss.
Perhaps they didn’t need to. Lucy was in his arms again and for the moment, only they two existed as he twirled her around and around.
They went through the steps of the waltz as if born to it, as if the years apart had never happened, as if it were still that magical Christmastide holiday and they had the whole of their future ahead.
Nary a word did he utter; Colin didn’t wish to destroy the fragile moment.
She squeezed his fingers, tightened her hand upon his shoulder, and she held his gaze, all the while it felt as if she searched his very soul, for what he couldn’t fathom.
Perhaps she’d find it in him this time. And finally, oh sweet heaven, finally her lips curved upward in a smile.
She laughed and he did too. He continued to lead her through the steps of the waltz, their bodies fitting together like long-lost pieces of a puzzle, and with every movement, languid heat built from each point of contact.
By the time the song ended, they had stopped spinning, and they rested near to Ellen’s position, he remained staring at her and she at him, and they’d yet to utter a single word between them.
There was something deep in Lucy’s eyes that called to him, that reminded him of the young girl he’d once known and loved, that invited him to discover the woman she was now.
Colin had the sensation of falling, and he leaned closer to her, their lips nearly touching.
It would be so easy to kiss her, claim that little victory, but he didn’t want it on the heels of her remembering her dead husband.
At the last second, he pulled away, and Lucy lowered her lashes.
Ellen huffed. She looked at him with narrowed eyes, and he couldn’t fathom why she was so upset. Then her expression cleared, and she bounced her attention between him and Lucy. “That looked ever so fun. It was so romantic.”
“It was a dance, Ellen,” he drawled, and affected a stance of nonchalance, but he knew one thing beyond every doubt: Lucy might think he was part of her past, but he wanted to find out if they have a future together.
A woman didn’t look at a man as she’d done when the waltz concluded if she didn’t wish to explore that too.
And he’d do just about anything in this world to see a return of her smile, that tiny gesture that warmed him through and through, that made him think of snow and dancing and mistletoe… and hope.
“Well, if I ever am fortunate enough to dance like that, I’m sure you’ll spoil the whole thing and demand the boy looking at me as you did Lucy to leave the house,” Ellen said and yanked his attention back to the present.
He couldn’t help his grin even as heat crept up the back of his neck.
The first few plops of raindrops hit his cheeks, but his ardor didn’t cool.
“That is a discussion for another time, child.” Colin glanced at Lucy.
A pretty blush had infused her cheeks and she offered him a tentative smile that tightened his chest.
“It was a lovely dance. Thank you, Colin. It improved my mood tremendously.” She lifted her face to the sky. A few drops of rain splashed onto her cheeks. “Perhaps we should start back to the inn. I don’t fancy getting soaked in this chill.”
“Agreed. If we can manage it, we’ll set out as soon as possible.” But part of him hoped the rain would keep on. More time in Lucy’s company outside the dratted confines of a traveling coach was all to the good.