Almost, she might have believed him; almost, she found that she did, as the dance caught them up again, and they moved together, then apart, then together in perfect unison, closer and closer until they kissed again. This time, somehow, she found herself unable to resist, unable to break away, only meeting his lips with her own in a kiss that went deeper and deeper, caught up somehow in a timeless moment in which the world around them ceased to exist, in which there was nothing but their mouths, their bodies, their minds, touching and longing to touch more deeply.
Then cymbals clashed, and they stepped apart. He glared up at the musicians, but she was glad of the respite, gasping, amazed how shaken she was, not only by the surge of her own desire, but by the realization that the last embrace had not been one of lips and bodies alone, but one of minds as well. Whoever this gallant young stranger was, he was a tele path of some degree, for he had reached out and enwrapped her mind with a psionic touch, enfolded her in his own churning emotions, blending them with hers, stirring hers up even higher than they had boiled by themselves. Breasts heaving, she looked up into his face. Somehow, she was sure he had not read her thoughts—but her emotions he most surely had, and had mingled his own with hers, his desire fueling her own, leading her up toward ...
She broke off the thought, shivering. How could she ever be content with any other man again, how could any other ever bring her so close to ecstasy as he had this night?
And she did not even know who he was!
But the dance was done, and other young men were pressing in between them, separating them, a gulf of young bodies opening to divide them. With relief, she turned to the youngest and stepped into the measure, bodies well apart, gradually regaining her composure.
She had recovered nearly all when the dance ended, and she found her brother slipping his arm about hers and moving away from the other young men as the music began again. "I believe you could do with a bit of rest, my sister."
"I certainly could," she said with relief. "Thank you, brother."
"My pleasure, I'm sure. We shall have to at least begin the dance, though, or you will have a dozen young boobies claiming your hand."
The music began, and they moved in time to its strains—but Geoffrey steered them closer and closer to the tall windowed doors that opened onto the terrace. There he stopped, offering his arm, even as she had taught him to, years before. She took it with a pang of nostalgia and affection, and they stepped out onto the flagstones.
She breathed in the cool air with a shuddering gasp. "It has been—a very exciting night ... my brother." She looked up at him. "But where is Alain?"
Geoffrey smiled, with a glint in his eye. "Why, you have danced with him twice this evening."
"Twice?" She stopped still, staring up at him in shock. Then her mind reeled, reviewing all the men she had danced with that evening. No, she could not possibly say which one had been Alain; they had all been too gallant, too heroic; none looked like him in the slightest. "Nay, tell me which one he was, brother!"
"I most certainly shall not!" Geoffrey drew himself up, offended. "It is half the delight of the game, sister, not to know with whom one dances. After all, how else are we to discover our feelings?"
Cordelia frowned up at him. "Why, how do you mean?" she said dangerously.
He gazed down at her, dropping his lofty manner, letting himself be serious for the moment. "How are you to know whether you are truly in love with Alain, if you do not let yourself enjoy the dance with any other man?"
"Who said I was in love with Alain?" Cordelia snapped, hands on her hips. "Indeed, I seem to recall telling you that I was not!"
"And if you are not," Geoffrey said gently, "surely you should be sure of it, so that you can continue to refuse his suit."
Cordelia turned away. "I did not say I would refuse his suit—only that I did not love him."
"Being Queen is not worth a loveless marriage." Cordelia stiffened. "I could be a good Queen to him. I could be a good wife."
"But if you did not love him," Geoffrey murmured, "you would cheat him, as surely as he would cheat you."
"Be still!" she blazed, turning on him. "What do you know of it? You, who are not married, and who claim never to have been in love!"
"But I have heard what love is," he said. "I can imagine it, and long for it. Aye, even I, who am so busy changing partners that I scarce have time to tread the measure."
Cordelia looked up, eyes wide in sudden panic. "But if I might discover that I truly love someone else, might he not discover the same?"
"He might," Geoffrey said gently, "and it is far better for him to learn that now, than after you are wed." Cordelia turned away, thinking of the gold-and-scarlet young man, thinking of Forrest. "Yes," she said, her voice very low, "I suppose that is so. Tell me—is Alain enjoying the evening?"
"He is," Geoffrey said, carefully noncommittal. "Does he flirt with other ladies?"
"He does."
"More than one?"
"Aye, more." Geoffrey smiled, guessing which "one" she meant. "And quite successfully, I might add."
She could hear his pride in his student, and turned on him. "Geoffrey, why could you not have left me to my own affairs? My life is my own; I did not need your meddling!"
"Perhaps," he said softly, and looked straight into her eyes. "Could it be, sister, that you have found that you, too, are enjoying this ball? The dancing, the flirtation?"
"Should I not?" She thrust her chin up. "Have I not the right to enjoy being a woman, to enjoy my youth?"
"Every right," he said softly, with total conviction, "and I rejoice to see it at last. Nay, you have also the right to be in love. I could wish you no greater joy, sister. I hope that you shall be."
Cordelia stared at him, shaken by his sincerity.
Then she turned away. "Let us return to the dance, brother. I think I am quite refreshed now."
"Ready for more dancing?" Geoffrey grinned, the seriousness dropping from him like an ill-fitting garment, like a dark cloak. "Aye, sister, so am L"
She paused at the doors. "Geoffrey..."
"Aye, sister?"
"The man in scarlet and gold ... the tall one, with blond hair..."
"I have seen him." His voice was carefully neutral. "Spy upon him for me this evening, will you not? And see if he reaches out to other women with his mind, to touch theirs as he dances with them."
Geoffrey frowned. "A strange request—but surely, sweet sister, I could deny you nothing."
"As long as it was something you had planned to give me already?" Cordelia smiled, remembering the puppy he had given her for her tenth birthday. "Surely, brother. Shall we dance?"
They went in through the door.
Her eyes immediately sought out the tall young man in gold and scarlet. She could see him dancing with an older woman, bantering and laughing. She felt something twisting within her. Had he only been being polite, then?
She turned away, and her gaze sought out Forrest. She could only stare in shock.
He was dancing with Delilah, the two of them molded so tightly together that they seemed almost to be one entity. His gaze never left her face, or hers his, and even this far removed, there was an almost palpable energy about them, a tension that seemed to crackle all the way across the room.
Cordela turned away, shaken. Was he, then, a man for all women, and she no more important to him than any other? Then suddenly, the dance was ended, and the gold-and-scarlet young man was there, elbowing his way through a crowd of her admirers, taking her hand, saying words that pressed her into dancing. The other young men clamored for her attention, but she let herself move into his embrace, into the movements of the dance, let his lips touch hers, his mind reach out to mingle with hers—not thoughts, no, but emotions, his exultation at having her once again in his arms, his joy at the feel of her body against his, giving her a thrill of pleasure such as she had never known before this night.