he wanted to learn them, she wanted to help. It was a fine line. She tried to express this sentiment as he walked toward her, bemused.
“There’s absolutely no pressure. Most of the ball will be regular dancing. Like you would see at a wedding.” Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true—did American weddings feature the kind of slow dancing they had done in the woods last night? “But we also do some traditional dances, and some waltzes. Which you can just sit out. If you want. I’m not saying you have to sit them out. But if you want to learn, Monsieur Lavoie can help. But I didn’t bring him here because I thought you needed him. I really do bring him in every year for a refresher.” Oh dear. She was making a hash of this.
“I’m not going to the ball, though.”
“Really?” Marie narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were kidding.”
“Not kidding. Not going.”
“Oh.” Why was that so disappointing? She of all people should understand. She would skip the ball, too, if she could.
“So you don’t have to be worried about your brutish American guest embarrassing you,” Leo said flippantly.
“I wasn’t worried about that!” But she could see how he would interpret her offer of dancing lessons that way. She geared up to apologize, but he was grinning.
“I know you weren’t. I was just teasing.”
Oh. She hadn’t realized, which was too bad, because she enjoyed it when Leo teased her. He was in hitting range, so she swatted his chest. It was . . . disconcertingly hard. A memory arose suddenly, of resting her cheek against that chest last night. The cheek—just the one; her right—grew hot. “See? I didn’t grasp that you were teasing. This is partly what I mean by saying I’m not a natural princess. I’m awkward on the dance floor and in social situations.”
“Do not say such things!” Monsieur Lavoie seemed genuinely hurt by her observation. Poor Monsieur Lavoie. He was such a decent man.
“Listen to Monsieur Lavoie,” Leo said as he jokingly wagged a finger at her and took a step back.
He was going to leave. Something was happening to her—to her whole body now, not just the one cheek. It was restless. Jumpy. Suddenly, remarkably, the idea of dancing didn’t seem so horrible. Of being grounded by strong, sure arms.
When she was dancing, she always felt like she was under a spotlight. Alone under the glare of everyone’s scrutiny, even though of course at balls she always had a partner.
With Leo, her jumpy body somehow knew, in a way that went deeper than her intellect, that she wouldn’t be alone. That he would bolster her.
She wanted that. She wanted those forearms of his wrapped around her.
“Mr. Ricci,” Monsieur Lavoie said to the retreating Leo, “even if you’re not attending the ball, perhaps you would be so kind as to partner with Her Royal Highness? She would benefit from having a practice partner who isn’t me.”
Leo paused in his retreat and looked at Marie like he could see all the way inside her. That was all it took for the restlessness to return. It occurred to her that although she’d been thinking of Leo as the cure for this agitation, he was also the cause of it.
She opened her mouth to demur, to override Monsieur Lavoie and tell Leo to go.
But then she closed it.
Leo, still looking at her, linked his fingers, extended his arms out in front of him, and cracked his knuckles. “All right. Definitely not going to the ball, but let’s do this.”
Something spiked in her belly.
Monsieur Lavoie approached. “Allow me to show you the steps first, Mr. Ricci. I will take the lady’s part.”
Leo’s sudden startled look made Marie smile. He was a good sport, despite the fact that he probably had not expected to end up twirling around the floor with an elderly Frenchman.
“You have a natural rhythm,” Monsieur Lavoie pronounced as the two men came to a halt a few minutes later.
“Piece of cake,” Leo said.
“Monsieur Lavoie is a retired professional ballroom dancer,” Marie said. She had always found it easy to dance with Monsieur Lavoie, both because he counted quietly in her ear and because he took such a strong lead—her body simply had to go where he put it. It was never the same in the wild, though, and of course real dances were often also fraught socially.
“Her Royal Highness is not Her Royal Highness when you are dancing with her,” Monsieur Lavoie informed Leo as he