Gray’s and Harper’s gaze flicked to Aria when he spoke.
“That’s not free will, Harper,” Aria continued. “Does Mrs. B. believe herself to be God?”
“No. She—”
“She should stay out of it. Everyone is entitled to discover their own destiny.”
“I wish she would,” Harper said with a groan.
Gray didn’t realize tears had fallen to his cheeks until Aria slipped her hand in his. He thought it mad that such a small, intimate gesture could make his heart feel lighter in seconds. His gaze found hers as he turned to her.
She reached her free hand up and wiped his tears with her fingers. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”
She had no way of knowing that for sure, but she said it to comfort him. And it did. He began to smile at her, but Harper put her hand between theirs and severed their connection.
“You must both keep from touching—” she began to admonish, but Aria stopped her.
“I don’t care about any would-be threats,” she told Harper. “I’m not going to let anyone dictate my behavior. If I want to touch him, I’m going to touch him.” She took his hand again and this time entwined her fingers through his.
Caring for her wellbeing, he tried to pull away.
She held on tighter. “Gray, if I haven’t made it clear enough already, let me say it in plain English. I won’t stand for being told what to do. In my time, or yours.”
His or hers. Separate. Different. If he hadn’t grown used to pain, he would have doubled over at the ache in his belly at her words and the meaning of them. There was nothing in her that considered staying with him.
He’d go with her then. What did he care for anyone here? Let Cavendish have it all. That’s what his father wanted anyway. He’d go to Aria’s future with her and live and dance there. He’d wed her and have seven—no six sons and one daughter, destiny be damned—who would rule them all. The thought of it made him smile slightly. She saw it and rubbed the pad of her thumb over his skin.
“Are you staying then, Aria?” Harper asked her.
Aria stared at her but didn’t answer.
Harper turned her attention to him. “Grayson, she’s going to leave.”
“Right,” he said, purposely meaning neither this nor that. “Harper, it’s late. You should retire to your chambers. Aria and I will remain for a bit longer.”
“I shouldn’t leave you alone.”
He set his cool gaze on her. “Harper, I’m not a child. Goodnight.”
He was glad when she didn’t argue but marched out of the small dance hall in silence.
“Let’s dance,” he swept around Aria and said in her ear. He wanted to forget what Harper said and had done, and just dance with Aria. He wanted it more than anything he’d wanted in his life—to touch her in the intimate throes of dance, in a timeless embrace.
“Gray, I can’t help but worry about falling.”
Her confession reached his heart. He backed away, but his eyes beckoned her forward. She didn’t go to him, but he would keep calling. If tomorrow came and they found her key and she found her door, he would regret not dancing with her more.
Without Harper’s violin, he relied on the crackling of the hearth fire and his heartbeat in his ears to make music. He moved to it, isolating different parts of his body with each beat.
Turning his knees outward, he bent in plié. He twisted his arms to the left, then to the right, bending his wrists, curling his fingers. He smiled, feeling her eyes on him. He didn’t look at her yet, but scooped his hand over his raven tresses and closed his fingers around the back of his neck. He looked up then and smiled at her and almost laughed softly when she brought her hand to her throat—as if she could read his thoughts. He drew in a corner of his bottom lip between his teeth and scrunched up his nose at her. He danced around the hall, combining contemporary moves he’d recently learned, and ballet moves he’d known since he was a boy. He reached her in a vortex of spins and beautiful lines, intimate smiles and playful winks. When he stopped before her, he held his hand out to her and prayed she accepted.
She did and stepped into him. His heart thrashed and thundered within. For a moment, he completely forgot how to dance and just stood there with her, letting the beats of their hearts produce a whole new sound.
He wasn’t exactly sure how to dance with her facing him save for traditional pas de deux or ballet dances for two, some ballroom dances, and what she taught him in the forest.
She arched her back and, draped over his arm, bent far back enough for her fingertips to touch the floor. Gray leaned over her, dipping his nose closer to her neck. They moved together in perfect synchronicity. When she moved in a variation of what he knew, he followed and kept up with her.
Finally, he pulled her closer with gentle force and smiled then tossed back his head and closed his eyes.