Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
The ball was in three days' time.
Cedric’s mind should have been on patrols, escape plans, and ballroom security, yet it wandered to the woman he was meant to protect. It had unsettled him how often she slipped into his thoughts—how he desired her company rather than on performing his duties.
He had not forgotten their quiet conversation on the garden bench—how simply she spoke of hardships no child must ever endure.
She had survived a world unforgiving to orphans and kept her brother alive through it all, yet never once indulged in self-pity.
Days had passed, and he found it increasingly difficult to ignore how remarkable she was.
It wasn’t proper.
However, he scheduled private dance lessons.
Dancing required proximity, which bred familiarity and weakened vigilance.
Cedric had learned that lesson secondhand, from a father who had trusted the wrong man. One careless word had come close to destroying their family’s name.
Cedric would not repeat the past, even if the circumstances differed. His downfall might not come from betrayal, but he refused to be undone by attachment, particularly to a woman he could never have.
The Duval family would object, the nobles would condemn them, and society would ruin them.
Not that he had entertained the thought. Not at all.
This was part of his duty—nothing more and nothing less. His duty was to teach Nin to survive among the nobles, and it so happened that survival required dancing.
Cedric cleared his throat, his palms unusually clammy as he made his way toward Nin’s quarters. Unfortunately, one of his training sessions with the guards had gone longer than he had expected.
For the first time, he was late.
He wouldn’t blame her if she had retired for the evening. The hour drew near ten o’clock, and he suspected Lucille had also taken her leave. When he approached the door, he placed his ear against the wood to hear if there was any movement or sound.
Nothing.
He softly knocked, hoping he wouldn’t wake her if she were asleep.
“Come in!”
He entered as Nin stretched across the bed, a history book in one hand, while the other petted a snoring Bijou. Lucille was nowhere to be seen.
Nin didn’t look up. Her attention remained fixed on the pages, her lashes lowered in concentration, as though the world had faded around her. Firelight bathed her in a soft, warm glow, highlighting the crease in her brow and the slight curve of her rosy lips.
For a moment, Cedric had forgotten his purpose there, lingering longer than he should have as he drank in her serene expression. He swallowed hard, disturbed by his disloyal, faltering heart.
Steeling himself, he extended his hand. “Are you ready?”
She turned a page, placed a bookmark within, before swinging her legs over the bed. Her expression turned bashful. “Yes, but I can’t say your feet are.”
One brow rose quizzically. “Pardon?”
“They’re not ready for how much I’ll be stepping on them,” she said with a cheeky grin.
He expelled an amused huff and beckoned her forward. “I’m certain they’ll recover.”
She stood, and her floral robe trailed behind her.
A blue dress matching her eyes peeked from the neckline.
The simplicity of it highlighted her delicate features: the curve of her smile, the fullness of her cheeks from eating proper meals, and the mischievous sparkle in her eye.
As the firelight flickered, it revealed the full measure of her natural radiance.
Her hand slipped into his offered one—soft and warm—and he regretted noticing how much her touch affected him.
Focus.
He was here to instruct her to dance, not to be distracted by the unsettling spark coursing through his arm.
“Now,” he started, taking a step back. “We’ll start with the Grand Measure. This is the most—”
“Popular dance at court,” she supplied quickly. “I know. I’ve read the rules of the steps.”
His mouth quirked. “Perhaps, but performing them is an entirely different matter.”
Cedric guided her to the center of the room. “The Grand Measure requires reverence and skill,” he explained, demonstrating the bow that started the dance. One foot slid back, and he dipped low with his head inclined. “A show of respect for your partner.”
He had to suppress a smile when Nin performed an exaggerated curtsy in return.
Cedric began the steps slowly, emphasizing where to pause. With a fluid motion, he glided forward, brought his feet together, paused, and then stepped diagonally into the turn.
“Forward, step, close, and pause,” he instructed. “Step, then turn.”
When she mimicked the actions, her timing was off, but her movements were earnest as she bit her lip in concentration. She stumbled over the edge of the rug but laughed with a pure, carefree sound at her misstep. Twirling, she clapped, giggling under her breath when she performed another spin.
“Remember, every step is deliberate. The pauses matter just as much. Don’t rush them,” he instructed.
She nodded, and Cedric watched as she adjusted her movements. Her timing improved, and her steps became more fluid and graceful after their fifth attempt. Despite her initial clumsiness, he was pleased to see her dance effortlessly.
“Well done,” he said.
Nin halted mid-twirl, her eyes widening. A bright smile blossomed on her lips. Something in his chest tightened unexpectedly.
“Well,” she said, “I suppose it’s a little like being quick on my feet. I may not be graceful in other ways, but spinning around like this—” she whirled in demonstration, “or sliding like this—” she glided forward, "reminds me of how I’d pickpocket people.”
She followed his lead as they spun, their hands connecting before clapping.
Cedric kept in time with the steps, despite the uneven thrum of his heart. “Yet you failed to do so with me.”
She chuckled. “Yes. I wasn’t expecting someone like you to catch me.” Her eyes danced. “You’re far more experienced than most of the nobles I’ve pickpocketed.”
Cedric led her through the next turn, their palms brushing before separating again. With every touch, a tingling warmth surged through his fingertips, a pulse he was finding impossible to ignore.
“Well, yes, I have a lot more training,” he said matter-of-factly.
They slid sideways across the floor, pausing as the routine demanded.
“But I guess you’re not always prepared for everything,” she said mildly.
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Before he could react, she slipped around him, grabbed his arm, and twisted it behind his back. His breath hitched at the sudden pressure.
“Something like this,” she said lightly before releasing him.
Cedric huffed, rolling his shoulder as a new, unwelcome awareness flamed through his body. “A clever trick,” he admitted. “But perhaps I could teach you something more effective.”
“Probably nothing I haven’t already learned myself,” she said with an unimpressed shrug.
“You’ve learned to survive on the streets,” he countered, taking a step closer. “Not formal training.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But playing dirty is usually what wins.”
“That may be true,” he said. “But…”
He twisted smoothly out of her reach, his movements swift and controlled, and before she could recover, he spun her around and pinned her gently against the wall.
His hand braced beside her head, and his breath caught.
It was almost the same position as the day they had met.
In a flash, she changed position, employing a quick maneuver that almost ended with her knee coming up to his groin.
Cedric shook his head, half-amused and half-impressed.
In a blur of motion, she swept a foot beneath him, forcing him to tumble back onto the bed. She pounced, trapping him with her elbow poised above his throat.
Cedric reversed them with a swift move, rolling her beneath him in one motion.
He stilled.
Their faces were suddenly inches apart, breaths mingling in the charged silence that followed. For one suspended moment, neither of them dared to move.
Cedric pulled away at once, every inch of him scorched by her touch. He took another step back toward the door and cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said, his voice tight and breathless. His ribcage ached from his drumming heart. “I believe we should continue the dance lesson another time.”
“You haven’t even taught me the other ones I need to know,” she said, her voice more nonchalant than the situation called for. She sat up, blinking innocently at him.
For a traitorous moment, his eyes flicked to her lips.
Snapping his head away, his spine went rigid. “Maybe not tonight,” he whispered.
He retreated, closing the door behind him before all rational thought and restraint failed him.