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We reached the dance floor with the other
guests and stood across from each other. I had never been a
remarkable dancer, but I had taken lessons and knew the basic steps
for each dance. I wanted to dance only with her, but I knew it
wouldn't be the case. Of course it wouldn't. Society would not
allow it. Society and its limiting rules.

We stood in separate lines: gentlemen on one
side, ladies on the other. She faced me and I could barely breathe.
I didn't want to make a fool of myself. You see, this was before I
cared not what people thought of me. I was a young man then and
wanted to be taken seriously in the world. I believed how I behaved
in it would help me meet my goal. I was incredibly wrong.

Rebecca stood across from me, her fingers
rubbed the fabric of her dress like she was nervous as well. I
smiled at her to try to let her know I was nervous as well and she
did the same back. We would be nervous together and that was okay
by me.

The violin began playing and I stood
straighter with my hands behind my back. In a few moments I would
be allowed to touch her again, and I could not wait. But I had to
be patient as I knew the steps to the dance and I knew there would
be several moments before that would happen.

The gentlemen bowed to the ladies and then
every other male turned around on the dance floor, myself excluded
for it wasn't my turn. They came to the middle of the line where
their partners waited, took their hands for the briefest of
seconds, took two steps and let them go before falling back into
place in the line.

Then it was my turn. I stepped around, came
back to the middle and took Rebecca's hand. My world stopped and I
had to force my feet to move to the music. She looked up at me, and
batted her eyes. I wanted to hold on to her hand forever, but we
made to where we started and I had to begrudgingly let her go.

The next part of the dance involved us
pairing up with another couple. Rebecca moved to the center of the
circle and, without touching, mind you, stepped around and then
back again. Watching her dance with another man, even for the
briefest of moments, made me sick to my stomach. I knew it was how
the dance went, I knew that, but actually seeing it. I didn't like
it and I wanted her back with me as soon as possible.

As for Rebecca, she didn't smile at the man
like she did me. She only gave him the polite expression she gave
Simon. It reconfirmed for me how she truly felt for me and the
connection I knew we had.

Once Rebecca and the other man were finished
taking their steps, it was my turn with a lovely brunette who was
the other man's partner. We stepped into the circle, did our steps,
and backed out again. The brunette was beautiful in her own right,
though I have always preferred blondes. She was appealing enough,
but my heart didn't flutter like it did with Rebecca. I took that
as a good sign.

Then all four of us in our little group
joined hands and walked around in a circle. My hand clasped
Rebecca's and all was right in the world again.

Rebecca and I let go as the other couple
danced between us and we again formed into two lines.

Though gloved, my hand felt so empty, so cold
without Rebecca's in it. I had never noticed it before, but it was
a cruel dance, touching then not touching, being together then not.
It wasn't right and it wasn't fair, but I reasoned, holding her
hand even during the briefest intervals, beat not being able to
hold it at all.

Again, it was my turn to step around just as
I had at the start. Rebecca did the same and we met back in the
beginning, her hand warming mine once more. Just like that, we were
released and back into our lines.

We grouped again, stepped back into the
center, and danced without touching, which was more difficult than
you can imagine. She had her hands clamped behind her back as did
I, which was probably a good thing, come to think about it. I
couldn't help it, I smirked, and I knew my eyes lit up when I
watched her. Her cheeks pinked and she did the same.

Again, the group held hands and danced in a
four square. This time we were opposite each other. I looked into
her eyes and she into mine. If I had never known her, if I hadn't
had a meal with her, if I had just met her, I would have fallen in
love with her at that moment. I've already called her an angel
once, but she truly was. I had to tilt my head down to see her
fully, for the top of her head only came to my shoulder, but she
held her own like she was much taller. In that moment, she was my
whole world — everything I wanted. And I would have gladly given
her everything to make her happy.

The four of us let our hands go and went back
into our lines. Due to our positions, Rebecca and I were first to
travel down the row. We stepped together, shoulder to shoulder. I
took one of her hands in mine and placed my other hand on the small
of her back. The feelings that flowed through me when my fingers
touched such a normally off limit place I can never describe to
you. At first, I tried to only let my fingers lightly touch her
because I didn't want to offend her, but with each step we took,
more of my hand pressed into her back. Before we had turned, the
whole of my hand touched her and I felt myself shiver. What that
woman did to me was nothing short of magical.

We took our turn down the row and turned back
to where we began. I knew it was coming. I expected it, but that
doesn't mean I wanted it to happen. Just as it always did in this
dance, another man fell in step with us took the lady's other hand
and placed his hand on the small of her back as well to guide her
back down the row.

It didn't matter who the other person was, I
knew I would want to hurt him. This was our moment and I didn't
want someone else coming in to ruin it. I didn't slide my hand over
to give him any room and for the longest of time, I didn't look his
direction. The three of us danced back down the line of people just
like we were supposed to, but my joviality had soured thanks to
this intruder.

And then I saw him in the mirror over the
fireplace at the far end of the hallway.

It wasn't some stranger holding on the
Rebecca. It wasn't someone who just happened to be there for the
dance. It was, in fact, Simon Hartwell. That bastard had his hands
on my Rebecca, dancing with her. Holding her hand. Touching her
back in places only I should be able to hold.

I couldn't help looking over at him then. I
could barely contain my anger and my composure as I witnessed him
looking down at her — and grinning. God, he looked happy. Genuinely
happy to be touching her and dancing with her. With her! With what
was mine. I sneered at him, which got his attention. I didn't think
I could look evil or menacing, but I felt it at that moment and,
judging by the way Simon's eyes widened and the way he averted my
eyes so suddenly, I assume I gave that impression.

Good, because it was how I felt.

The walk back to where we began was torture.
It seemed mere seconds that we walked one way down the line, but
then on the way back, when there were three of us in a very
uncomfortable manner, it seemed to last an eternity. His hand was
on hers. His hand was in hers. It took everything I had not to push
him away. It wouldn't have been proper, of course, but I knew he
had planned it all along. That fact made me incredibly angry. Simon
hadn't just been in the right place at the right time, he had stood
there on purpose so he could have some time with Rebecca. I knew
that he was going to give me competition for her heart, and though
I knew in my heart Rebecca belonged to me, my head began filling
with questions, doubts, fears.

Simon was titled. I was not.

Simon had a large lot of land in Enhurst. I
did not.

Simon would never have to work to support
her. I would.

Simon was falling for her. I couldn't let
that happen.

As we walked and I felt the anger flush my
face, Rebecca looked up at me. At
me
. Not at Simon. Not at
anybody else, but at me. She fluttered her eyes and her ruby red
lip pulled up a wee bit into a grin. As we took the last few steps
of our journey, Rebecca kept her gaze on me. She never looked at
Simon, just me. Always just me. My throat dried and the anger
slipped away as, yet again, we were the only two people in the
room. I could have looked into her eyes forever. I would have loved
to, but we sadly made it back to where we began and I had to let
her go. Simon turned her to face the middle again, and I did the
same to the girl to my right. We formed our lines again and once
more, Rebecca and I ended up in the middle. We made one more dance
around the middle, her eyes directly on mine the entire time, and
then we stepped back into the line.

The dance was over.

Everyone else around us greeted his or her
partner, but I couldn't move and neither, it seemed could Rebecca.
She stared at me for what seemed like an eternity and I her, unable
to break her gaze even if I wanted.

Finally, Simon broke the connection for us.
He walked up to Rebecca and whispered something in her ear. My
trance broke, and it took everything I had not to go over and break
his neck. She looked at me, back at Simon and nodded. Without
acknowledging me, he walked away. I found out later what he said.
He is lucky he has lived this long.

Rebecca didn't follow
him
. In fact, she stayed with me and danced another dance.
By the time we were finished, my feet ached for I had never danced
so much in my life. I would have danced a thousand more times if
she had wanted, however. I would have twirled her around the floor
until my feet bled if that was what it took to spend time with her.
I loved her that much.

I haven't danced since that night and I won't
ever again.

Finally, Anthony tapped me on the shoulder
and asked for a turn with his cousin. The way he said "cousin" led
me to believe he would not take no for an answer. I wanted to tell
him to go away, but I didn't want to look like an inconsiderate
brute, so I allowed it. The entire time I watched them, I dreaded
the conversation they most assuredly had about me.

A few other ladies smiled my way. I politely
smiled back, but didn't dance with any of them. I accepted a drink
from a most unusual fellow, or rather a person I wasn't expecting
to get a drink from: Simon Hartwell. My first thought was that
perhaps it was filled with poison, after all, I had won his woman
from him. But then I looked more closely at Simon. He wasn't much
of a man, if you asked me. Soft, he was very soft and too kind. I
believe kindness has its place in the world, but Simon had too
much. He wasn't assertive. He wasn't very perceptive either.

We drank nearly simultaneously as we watched
Anthony and Rebecca dance. Neither of us took his eyes off her. It
wasn't uncomfortable for what did I have to be uncomfortable about?
From Anthony, yes. I did have something to fear from him, but
Simon, never. Not Simon.

"Lovely party." Simon said, his voice grating
on my nerves.

"Indeed." The music swelled around me and my
aching feet wanted to sit, but if Simon wouldn't, I wouldn't. I had
my pride.

"Look, Frederick. I understand you may have
feelings for Miss Rebecca…" And here it came, the part where I
assumed he'd tell me to leave her alone, that he wanted to court
her and as a titled person, he would have first rights to her — if
she accepted of course. I, however, wanted to hear none of that. I
knew the ways of the world and thought they were stupid. In my
mind, love should trump all. Love then money then titles. That
should have been the order of things. Whoever invented the world —
God or man — they got the rules backwards.

"Miss Rebecca has feelings for me," I told
him straight out, lest he make a fool of himself more. I do have
feelings and I didn't want to watch Simon wallow. Also, I wanted
Simon to know that I had won and that the game wasn't still being
played.

Simon nearly spat out his drink at my
revelation. "Does she? Did she tell you as much?"

"Yes," I lied, though it wasn't entirely a
lie. She had told me she loved me. Not with her words, but with her
actions, her smiles, the way she looked at me when we were close,
the tender way she stiffened when my fingers touched her back.
These things were more important than words to me, for what are
words? I can say "I love you," but what does it matter if I don't
have the experience behind it? Words are mere words, useless unless
an emotion is there to bind them.

Rebecca's actions spoke volumes to me. They
reassured me of her commitment. When she danced with her cousin
Anthony, her eyes found me several times as if to say she wished it
were me she was with. The feeling was mutual, for I wished the same
thing.