The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(37)

A proud little smile twitched on his mouth. “He could try. How good can such a man be to have earned so many scars?”

Maia looked at him in concern. “Do not provoke him, I beg you. He has seen twice as many winters as you or I.”

“I do not intend to, my lady. I fear more for your safety than my own.”

“Very generous. But we must depart this evening. When Jon Tayt returns, we will go. Thank you for the horses.”

“It is my pleasure to help you,” he said, dipping his head graciously. “Where are you bound?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“Another forbidden question. Let me try again. Do you play any instruments? You keep staring longingly at the minstrels.”

“I love music.”

“Ah, I would love to hear you play!” He nearly crowed with delight.

“Another time perhaps,” Maia said, shaking her head.

“Then you concede there is a chance we may meet again?” he quipped. “That restores my faith.”

“That is not what I meant,” she said, trying not to quash his feelings.

“You injure me again, my lady,” he said with a sigh. “You will not say where you are from. You will not tell me where you are bound. How will I find you to hear you play?”

She bit her lip, enjoying his teasing banter—probably too much. She needed to keep her thoughts clear. He was trying to trick her into revealing too much.

“If the Medium wills it, it will happen,” she said softly.

He frowned at that.

The song came to an end, and she dropped in a curtsy as he delivered a stiff bow. There was no sign of Jon Tayt and she cursed the hunter’s name under her breath.

“One more dance,” Feint Collier said. “Your guide has not returned. Favor me with one more dance.”

She looked at him, at the strange mixture of emotions on his face. He seemed almost alarmed, his blue eyes brooding with unsaid words. “Please. Just one more.”

A strong surge of warring emotions threatened to topple her control. She had enjoyed dancing and felt slightly light-headed at the thrill of it. Here was a handsome man giving her attention in such an obvious and flattering way. But she was conflicted by the strong feelings of unease brought on by the belief—nay, the knowledge—that his intentions were not as honorable as he proclaimed. He had purposely separated her from her companions more than once. Yet she was completely lost in this situation, having never been the pointed focus of a man’s attentions.

She looked around the room, feeling it spin slightly around her. Where was Jon Tayt? They needed to leave, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Just one more,” she said, feeling a sensation of guilt even as she said it. The prickle of apprehension she felt about accepting his offer was reason enough to rebuff him, yet there was a swelling sense of rebellion inside her as well. She had been denied even the simplest of pleasures since coming of age. Her father had allowed her to attend his court for a time, but while she had been outwardly included in the royal social circle, no one had ever dared ask her to dance. Most of the time, men were afraid to even speak with her.

“The newest dance at court is called the Volta,” he said. “Do you know it?”

Maia looked at him and shook her head no. “I do not know the latest court dances.”

“Then I will teach you,” he said with a bow. He turned to the musicians and spoke loudly. “Play a galliard, but at twice the usual tempo.” He began clapping his hands sharply. “That will work.” The music twitched in the air, bringing with it a lively feel. The other dancers cleared away, which brought Maia and Collier to the attention of everyone in the room. The scrutiny made her wince inwardly, but it was too late to excuse herself without attracting even more notice.

Collier did not give her a chance to escape the situation.

“Side by side,” he said, taking her hands and bringing her next to him. “Gather around.” This last was addressed to the others. “Watch first, and then copy us. The Volta.” He began a series of intricate steps, similar to a Pry-rian expression she had seen before but never learned. It took her several tries, but then she discovered the complexity and unraveled it.

“Well done,” he praised, bringing her forward and then backward, repeating the movements. “Now a broader circle.” He took her left hand in his and placed his right on the small of her back, guiding her around in a larger circle. Some of the other young dancers joined them, their faces beaming with the pleasure of learning a new court dance. Some were still struggling to do the footwork from the earlier part, but others were catching on.

“You are a wonderful dancer, Master Collier,” she said.

“Such things are necessary at court, but it helps to have an accomplished partner,” he replied, deflecting the praise. “This is not your first galliard, I think. Now for the twirl. Legs straight and push off my shoulders.” Suddenly his hands seized her by the waist and he lifted her high in front of him. She pressed her hands against his shoulders and pushed as he twirled her around before setting her back down lightly. “Two more . . . ready and lift!”

She flew through the air again, her stomach gliding in her throat as he twirled her about a second time. It was exhilarating. And she heard several of the girls gasping with delight as their partners lifted them too.