I’m so aware of his touch and the smell of citrus on his breath, and he’s carrying on a conversation as if it’s nothing.
I laugh, quiet enough that only he can hear. “It’s a little overwhelming,” I admit. “I’m not used to being the center of attention.” I don’t move my eyes from his because I’m scared of what I’ll do if I see the way people are watching us, whispering to one another. I don’t want to see the proud looks on my parents’ faces or the envious looks of the mainlander girls. I try to take a calming breath, but my dress barely lets in enough air to keep me conscious.
“You’ll get used to it,” he says. “This is all for show, anyway. For our parents. How about this: once the song ends, we’ll go sit in the garden. Our parents will love it, but we’ll keep our backs to the house. I could use some fresh air, anyway.”
My heart beats faster, and I wonder how this man I barely know has somehow said the perfect thing. “I’d like that.”
“Me too.”
The song slows, and Landon twirls me once more before tightening his hold on me. He lowers me into a gentle dip, and my head floats back, my hair almost grazing the polished floor. He leans over me, his face mere inches from my neck.
“I love your perfume,” he murmurs, slowly pulling me up, his hands not releasing me even after the music fades. I wait for the spark, the vibration, the final note in the concerto, but it doesn’t come. I suppose it wouldn’t, surrounded by all these people, and I tell myself there is time. It will come later. Landon leans close and whispers, “Quite a show, Miss Fairchild.”
I smile at that, a shy smile that barely tugs at my lips, but it’s enough. Applause breaks out all around us.
Suddenly I’m dizzy, and I grip Landon’s back and rest my forehead on his shoulder to steady myself. He doesn’t pull away, waiting patiently as I regain my balance. His pointer finger finds a section of my hair, and when I let him go, he carefully tucks it behind my ear. “That earned us at least two songs in the garden, I’m sure.”
He winks at me and leads me off the dance floor. Ivy is waiting for us at the bar, her back against the marble ledge, elbows propped up as if she’s never been more comfortable in her life. She hands me my drink, an amused expression on her face.
“That was some dance,” she says.
“I was just telling Tana that I believe it earned us some time in the garden.”
She studies Landon, and her features relax, an expression I recognize as relief. Relief that this man I’ve been betrothed to since before I could even speak understands enough about me to know that a break in the garden is exactly what I need. We exchange a glance before Ivy looks back at Landon.
“I think you’re right,” she agrees.
“Would you like to join us?” I ask.
“Absolutely not. I didn’t get dressed up like this to hide myself in the garden.”
“May everyone here look upon you with wonder,” I say.
She bows her head. “Thank you.”
Landon takes my hand and leads me outside. The cold night air sends goose bumps up my arms, and I shiver, but it’s the best feeling. I can hear the water again, the waves lapping against the rock wall, and my whole body relaxes.
We walk to the far corner of the garden and sit on a stone bench that looks out over the Passage. Lights from the Witchery flicker in the distance, and my heart aches, knowing this will be my daily view not long from now.
Landon slips out of his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders, bringing me back to the present.
“Thank you.”
He nods, and we sit in comfortable silence. I’ve never been one to enjoy parties, but I love being on the outside of them, close enough to hear the notes of the music and the murmur of voices, far enough away that the sounds fade into the background, quiet enough that I can still hear my own thoughts.
I love knowing people are having fun and laughing and making memories that will stay with them for years to come. I like imagining the conversations and the shy glances and the way it feels to dance with someone you like for the first time.
“What are you thinking about?” Landon asks me.
“How much I enjoy knowing people are having a wonderful time inside.”
He looks at me then. “You’re a really good person,” he says, surprising me.
We don’t love each other. We hardly know each other, but as the night goes on, we’re each discovering things about the other, and there’s so much relief in knowing that the person you have no say in marrying is good. It isn’t a masterful concerto, but it’s something.