Her breath caught in a gasp of delight.
He seemed to have realized that he had two options, and escaping this dance wasn’t one of them. He could either appear coerced and uncomfortable in front of all these people, or he could take control.
No surprise he chose the latter.
“Ready?” he asked.
She managed a nod.
With commanding grace and a slight, endearing limp, he waltzed her across the room.
And it was a dream come true.
They moved in perfect time to the music. Susanna suspected that was because Kate laid a syncopated pause on the third beat of each measure, to allow for their halting steps. So perhaps the music moved in time to them, but it was magical all the same.
He sent her into one turn, then another. Her flounced skirt swirled around her ankles, in little eddies of pink froth. And the sun, progressing on its slow slide toward the horizon, just then ratcheted a notch lower in the sky. So that its amber rays streamed straight through the bank of plate-glass windows lining one side of the hall. The ancient, warped glass took that day-worn light and made it precious, painting the room and all its occupants a glittering corona.
But no one caught more magnificence than Bram. Rosy fingers of light shone through the fine hairs at his brow. The melting afternoon lay like gold plate on his shoulders. Brilliant, shining armor. And he bore up under the weight of it beautifully, whirling her across the freshly waxed parquet. She heard more than one young lady’s wistful sigh.
It was just like something from a fairy tale.
He stared deep into her eyes. Little sparks danced in his wide, dark pupils. “Are you going to tell me why we’re doing this?”
She nodded. “You were right the other day, when you accused me of being afraid.”
“I shouldn’t have said—”
“Don’t. You were right. I have been afraid. You see, I’ve always told the ladies that Spindle Cove is a safe place for them. A place where a woman can be her best and truest self, regardless of what anyone thinks. But for the past few weeks, that hasn’t been the case for me. I’ve been hiding a part of my true self. This vital, growing part of me that holds all my feelings for you. I’ve been keeping it a secret from everyone, convinced I daren’t tell a soul.”
The music went on, but they twirled to a halt.
“But that’s ridiculous, isn’t it? And unfair to us both. When I looked at you just now, I knew. I knew in my heart, I couldn’t conceal it one minute more. I wanted to dance with you. I wanted everyone to see us.” A lump rose in her throat. “To see me, in love with you.”
And for all this was her moment to be fearless and direct, she suddenly couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. Instead she fingered the gold braid on his new red wool coat. Stroking her bare fingertip over the neat ridge. Cherishing him with her touch. “I’m not sure what to say. I haven’t any practice with these things. I would tell you you’re the best, bravest man I know. But considering how few men I know, that seems too small a compliment.”
She finally mined some reserve of strength and raised her face to his. “So I will just tell you I love you. I love you, Bram. I want everyone to see it, and I want you to know . . . you’re a part of this place now. No matter where duty takes you, Spindle Cove will always be here for you. And so will I.”
He put both arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest. “You beautiful, brazen thing.”
Then he went silent, just holding her gaze for what seemed like eons. Nerves multiplied in her stomach with every passing second.
She swallowed hard. “Don’t you have anything else to say?”
“ ‘Hallelujah’ springs to mind. Beyond that . . .” He brushed a caress down her cheek. “Does this mean that if I proposed marriage to you right now, you might not make that twisty, unhappy face?”
“Try me and see.”
And then a smile—a broad, boyish, shameless grin—spread across his face. It was a smile unlike any she’d ever seen him wear, forever defining the crescent as the shape of pure joy. She felt its mirror stretching her own cheeks.
He propped a finger under her chin. “Susanna Jane Finch, w—”
“Susanna Jane Finch. What’s going on here?” The familiar voice startled them both.
Papa.
She beat down the impulse to hide, or to scurry from Bram’s embrace. Too late for all that subterfuge, and no need anyhow. She wouldn’t hide from her own father what she was eager to share with the world.
Still smiling, she caught Bram’s hand in hers and wheeled on her slipper heel to face her father. “Papa, I’m so happy you’re here.”