take time, too. Time and effort and energy. A great expenditure of energy.”
“I have plenty of that. Time, too. All the time in the world. You only need ask.”
I fold my legs demurely behind me and lean forward, meeting his gaze. “I would like you to take me for a very long . . . very exciting . . . very exhilarating . . . ride.”
I expect a laugh—a burst of laughter—as I ask for a horseback ride. Instead, I get a deep and throaty rumble, his eyes flashing in delighted surprise.
That’s when I replay my words and realize I left out a key word in my request.
“Horseback ride,” I blurt, cheeks flaming. “A ride on the horses. Into the moors. That’s what I meant.”
“Of course it is,” he says, and that grin threatens to swallow me whole.
“It is. I meant a horse ride.”
“Naturally.” He leans back. “Whatever else could you mean? That is the only way to ride. Well, we could take a coach-and-four, but that would hardly be as exhilarating, and you specified exhilarating.”
“Stop.”
His eyes meet mine, brows rising. “Stop what? Is there another type of ride you could have meant? There must be since you felt the urgent need to clarify.”
“Stop.”
“I will admit, you often have me at a disadvantage with your talk of fridges and phones. Again, you seem to be implying a meaning to a word that I don’t understand. Pray tell, what else, in your world, could riding refer to? Asking me for a long, exciting, exhilarating—”
I leap to my feet. “So, you wanted to see me dance?”
“I feel as if you are changing the subject.”
I kick off my shoes.
“Ah,” he says. “Whatever this other ride is, it requires the removal of footwear, does it?”
I meet his gaze. “Not necessarily,” I say, as boldly as I can, and he laughs then, his head thrown back, laugh echoing through the silence.
“Indeed,” he says. “Well, while I do not understand what you meant at all, I said I’d happily exchange services with you. You dance for me, and I will give you a—”
“Horseback ride.”
He purses his lips. “I’m not certain it could be done on horseback.”
I meet his gaze again. “Then you, sir, lack a proper imagination.”
The laugh bursts from him, definitely surprise now. Very, very pleased surprise.
Before he can come back with a rejoinder, I say, “I’m going to dance, and you owe me nothing for it.”
“I would quite happily owe you—”
“A kiss,” I say. “If you insist on repaying me, I will take a kiss. On the cheek.”
“May I choose the cheek?”
“Yes.” I point to the left side of my face. “This one.” I point to the right. “Or that one. Others require at least a second date.”
Another laugh, and before he can respond, I start dancing.
I’ve had a little more alcohol than usual, which doesn’t fully—or even mostly—account for the warmth coursing through me. I’m fully relaxed, fully comfortable, fully myself and confident in a way I haven’t been since Michael.
There is a cliché—embroidered on far too many pillows—about dancing like no one is watching. I appreciate the difference between doing ballet with a class or alone in my living room where I don’t need to worry about pleasing anyone except myself. There’s something better, though—dancing in front of someone who makes me feel the same as when I’m alone. Someone who wants to watch me and doesn’t care a fig whether I do it right, just wants to see me lose myself in the moment.
Earlier, I watched William riding without him knowing I was there, and I reveled in the sheer joy of his joy, of watching him fully in his element. Now, that same look lights his face as I dance in the moonlight, and I close my eyes to slits to indulge in the very selfish pleasure of watching him when he doesn’t know I am, seeing him admiring me.
The look on his face makes me feel things I’m not sure I’m ready to feel, quite certain I don’t dare feel given all the impossibilities of our situation. So, I won’t dwell on those impossibilities. I’ll dance, and I’ll be happy.
I dance to the music of the wind and the turtledoves, heather soft beneath my bare feet, the earthy smell of it enveloping me. When I pirouette, I let my eyes close, just for a moment, and when they open, William is gone from his spot on the ground.
There’s a split second of panic as I’m certain I’ve twirled straight