Page 13 of Last Rites

“Pen,” he began, but I wouldn’t risk him calling an end to what had barely begun, so I whisked him into a quick step, leading and trusting him to follow.

I may not have danced with men but, growing up, I’d been my sister’s designated partner. Sayla demanded I lift or dip her, swinging her around the farmhouse living room while she grinned like mad. I wanted to spark that same joy from Kit, but he remained uneasy, squeezing my fingers and glancing at our feet as though he feared he might trip.

“You can relax, you know,” I teased him. “Maybe smile a little?”

Kit’s brow furrowed. “Just don’t want to… step on you.”

“Please don’t.” I snickered while sparing a glance at his heavy-soled boots. “It would make me go faster trying to run away. Then we’d be scurrying around like squawking chickens. Not very romantic. And people are already staring.”

Kit nipped his lip between his teeth, and the creases in his forehead deepened. If anything, he grew even more focused, as though I might take off at any moment and haul him helplessly behind.

Rather than speeding, I slowed and centered my body with his. A bit of the strain on his features eased, and I braced my arm firmly against his back. I needed him to feel it before what I was about to attempt.

The music swelled, and I bent in with a sweeping gesture that tipped Kit over backward. He barely kept his feet, his hand fisting in my shirt and cloak, but I kept my grip, dipping him with a moderate amount of grace before righting him once more.

He swayed, dark eyes wide and cheeks puffed with a breath that I captured in a kiss. Then he snapped straight, and I rose onto my tiptoes to keep my lips on his. The tickle of an impending cough forced me to pull back, and when I did, his eyes were just as open, just as round.

I muffled another cough in the crook of my elbow as the song petered out. The last notes played while I snickered at the stunned expression on Kit’s face. The blush was back in force, staining everything from the sides of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Hungry?” I asked him.

He nodded.

I cleared the lingering congestion from my throat, then tugged Kit toward the nearest open table. It was a booth, with the bench seat made of slatted wood, and I slid into the space beside the wall and patted the open spot beside me.

Kit hesitated before settling in, and I hooked my fingers around his thigh to tether him to me.

“You’re good at that.” He nodded toward the dance floor as it emptied. The lute player and singer wandered to the bar for drinks, allowing the buzz of conversation to fill the tavern.

I raised an eyebrow, fishing for compliments while he was in the mood to give them.

“Dancing,” he supplied. “And you didn’t drop me, so that was good.”

I snorted. “I wouldn’t drop you, Kit.”

He rubbed his face as though trying to dispel the lingering color. “Well, you have been angry with me,” he mumbled.

I burst into laughter. “Not enough to throw you down on the tavern floor!” Inching closer, I rested my chin on his shoulder so I could whisper in his ear, “If I’m going to throw you down anywhere, it would be on our bed.”

Red scorched his cheeks again as he cocked his head toward me. “Pen, people can hear you.”

Sure enough, the women in the booth behind us were peeking over the seat none-too-subtly.

I flashed them a toothy grin before returning my attention to Kit. “Right, right, sorry.”

We could have been talking about Levitt’s news and my half-brother’s impending trial, but that felt too private for such a public space. Which was likely exactly what Kit thought of my flirting and pawing at him since we’d walked in the door. He was tolerating it, though. Genuinely trying, and I appreciated the effort.

“Did you like it, though?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Being swept off your feet?”

He squirmed a bit. “Some warning might’ve been nice. It was… unnerving. But not bad.”

I hummed near his ear, watching his skin prickle as my breath ghosted across it. “Sounds like you’re unsure. Maybe we should try it again so you can form a better opinion.”

Kit craned his neck so he could fix me with an incredulous look. “What’s gotten into you? I said it wasn’t bad. Just unexpected.” He was flustered but fighting a smile.

What had gotten into me was a profound sense of success. Freedom ahead. A brand-new beginning beyond the horizon. It was almost as beautiful as Kit’s profile beside me, with his strong nose and stubbled jaw. Almost.

His face grew serious again, and he gazed across the tavern, no doubt impatient for the arrival of our server. “I’m not used to not being the one in control. It made me uneasy,” he said. “You’re good at that too.”