Essie laughed.
He chuckled in return, appearing utterly pleased he provoked her mirth.
"When you ask like that, how could I refuse?
"Ah, I learned her weakness!" Cross declared as he led her to the dance floor.
"I have no weakness sir," she shot back, grinning.
"Everyone has a weakness, Essie." He spoke the words with a smile, but again, his eyes were far more serious in expression than his tone, belying his attempt at humor.
"Indeed, we do," she replied, trying to keep the tone light.
"But the most surprising truth about weakness, is that often, it can be turned into a great strength." He spoke directly. "The trick is to not believe the lie."
"The lie?" Essie asked quickly as they neared the line of dancers.
"Yes, the lie that the risk isn't worth the reward. Because Essie…" He paused mid-stride and gazed at her candidly. "The lie keeps you from achieving the best, the most the highest and most beautiful. The lie tells you you'll never succeed… when the truth is, no matter what, you will. You'll either achieve your goal, or you'll fail and learn something from the experience, then you dust yourself off and try again. But I'd always rather try and fail, than be a coward," he whispered the last words, as if they were more to himself, than to her.
"Who are you?" Essie asked before she could filter her thoughts.
He seemed startled, then a dangerous light illuminated his eyes.
"You're about to find out."
Cross knew that with each moment he spent with Essie, the risk to his heart grew exponentially. It was both his greatest dream and most acute nightmare. For indeed, he was most assuredly courting her, with every glance, every grasp of her hand as they danced.
But it wasn't real.
Yet.
But he was certain he wasn't imagining the way she was beginning to respond to him, as if perhaps who she expected him to be, was not who he indeed was.
If she only knew.
He would take it slow, he would bide his time and win her over under the pretense of playing the ruse.
As the time for the supper waltz neared, he made his way around the edge of the ballroom, breathing deeply; reminding himself of his earlier declaration. He'd not play the coward. He had been given this golden opportunity and he'd not waste it.
He had waited too long once before, and she became engaged to someone else. Fate—blessed providence that it was—had seen fit to grant him one final chance to win her heart, and he'd not squander it.
He caught sight of her, a beautiful vision in her pale blue silk dress. She wore a single ostrich feather in her hair; it's creamy color highlighting the beautiful tone of her skin. A wide grin broke out across her face, drawing his attention to her full lips, the most perfect shade carnation pink. He made his way towards her as the first strains of the waltz began. As he neared, she turned slightly and noticed him, her lips once again twisting into a beguiling smile.
Cross grinned in return, offering his hand to her. "I believe this is my waltz, my lady." He bowed smartly.
"Indeed it is," she answered and excused herself from the other young ladies with which she had been conversing.
For the first time, Cross noticed how small her hand was, how its slight form made him feel stronger, and profoundly protective of the woman in his grasp.
"No profound insights to offer?" Essie's voice called him from his own musings.
"Pardon?" He furrowed his brow in confusion before understanding dawned. "Ah, minx. No, I only save my deep insights for the Cotillion."
"Pity, and here I was expecting something truly deep, since it was a waltz." She shrugged teasingly.
"The waltz needs no assistance in succeeding to be profound," Cross murmured as he pulled her into the frame of his body. Oh he had danced with her—waltzed with her—before, but this time was different…. This time he could make passionate love to her through the fluidity of their movements on the ballroom floor. He could let the adoration he held for her deep within shine through his eyes and flow over her.
"Oh? I find myself sincerely curious as to how you think so," Essie replied, yet the teasing manner she had used earlier was more subdued. Softly, she placed her hand on his shoulder and grasped his hand.
Cross pulled her in close… but not too close. But his hold was decidedly possessive.
His entire body responded with a thrilling hum of greatly restrained desire. She didn't resist his hold, rather seemed to melt into it, as if she fit.
As if she belonged.
If only he could prove that it was indeed the truth.
Steeling himself against his own thoughts, he led them into the swirling dancers and thought of how to answer her question. "The waltz is profound because it takes two seemingly innocent expressions of humanity and through them, creates an expression that provokes delight and desire, joy and hope."
"The innocent expressions being?" Essie questioned, her eyebrow raised in challenge.