No, not dancing. It was more than that. She moved as if her skin and bones had peeled away to release her very soul. A piece long laid dormant was resuscitated as her arms circled high over her head, stretching herself into existence. Her pale arms and legs extended in graceful arcs with the airy folds of her robe wrapping and unwrapping around her movements like butterfly wings. Moonlight weaved between the strands of her plaited hair, refining it to pure silver. The music surged. Faster and faster she spun until she was no more than a ribbon of silver.
The air clenched in Wynn’s lungs. In that single moment his heart was irrevocably and irretrievably lost with no hope of ever reclaiming it.
The music ended. Svetlana stilled on the points of her toes. Her eyelids fluttered open, and her eyes locked onto his. Slowly she lowered her feet flat to the floor. Her position settled into one of familiar cool reserve, yet there was a rawness lingering along her edges, a shimmering residue of her soul that had yet to be drawn back in.
A smile played about her lips. “You’re home.”
Her voice drowned his battered ego and flamed a desire to come alive as she had been. To come alive with her. The war, the medical board, pride, and death fell away until nothing stood before him but her. The one he loved.
He crossed the distance between them in a matter of strides and took her face between his hands, hesitating long enough to inhale her gasp of surprise before covering her mouth with his. She tasted of mint, soothing yet with a sharpness that pierced through every part of him. Her body eased against his as she responded to his touch with equal fervor. She stole into him, lighting fire to his veins, and blood, and bones until he was wholly consumed with her brightness.
Svetlana pulled away. Cool air brushed across Wynn’s heated lips. “Is this how you greet your wife?”
“Would she rather I didn’t?” His voice came out ragged.
“She would rather you had done it sooner.” Her fingernails dragged across the back of his neck.
It was all the encouragement he needed. Pouring every unspoken word and tenderness into the kiss, he held her as he’d dreamed of doing for so long. Never would she doubt the way he felt about her, how much he wanted her, how much he needed her. For so long he thought she called to a lost part of him, but he now realized it had never been lost, merely half formed. She gave him promise of being whole.
“I’m glad I didn’t stay in London one more night.” He touched his forehead to hers, savoring her nearness.
“I was expecting you to send word on when you were to return. I should have remembered your need to surprise me at unexpected moments.”
The past week came rushing back, the full weight of it no longer to be ignored. He leaned back and steadied himself. He loathed to break the moment, but it was past time to confess.
“My days in London—”
She placed a slender finger against his lips. “Shh. There is plenty of time to tell me later.”
“I need to tell you what really happened—”
“Tomorrow. Can we not have tonight?”
If they were ever to move forward, honesty must thrive between them. To hold back the truth was selfish. Or was it selfish to cleanse himself of his lies and ease his conscience when she pleaded for one single night together? How could he deny her?
“Wait right here.” He jogged out to the hall and rifled through his valise to pull out a thin leather box and a velvet pouch. Back in the Grand Hall, he placed the box next to the phonograph and crooked his finger at Svetlana. “Hold out your hand.”
He cupped her offered hand in his and felt the delicate bones tremble. Such a simple thing to touch another’s hand. He’d touched hers often enough, but never like this, with each brush of skin creating a new sensation of intimacy. He turned the pouch upside down and out tumbled the sparkling contents. Earrings in the shape of cascading stars.
“Lana, you fell from heaven and straight into my life. What a lucky man I am.”
Unmoving, she stared down at them. Uncertainty shifted Wynn’s surge of confidence. Had he done something wrong? Was it too much too quickly? “I know you’re more accustomed to imperial jewels—”
“These are more precious than any royal jewel. You gave them to me.” Tears studded her long lashes as she looked up. She fitted the earrings into her ears, the largest star resting at the top as the smaller stars dangled along her jaw.
Wynn touched one of the trailing stars. “Prekrasnaya.” Beautiful. One of the first Russian words he’d learned from his lessons with Mrs. Varjensky.
“Spasibo.”
“I have one more thing.” He popped off the leather box’s lid and took out the record. An impulse purchase from the newly opened music store next door to his London hotel. Shiny and black, this record had been propped in the display window waiting to catch his eye. Waiting to be played for its rightful master. Placing it on the turntable, he lowered the arm and touched the needle to the grooves. Tchaikovsky’s The Sleeping Beauty waltz filtered through the horn. “Will you dance for me?”
A smile curved her mouth. She stepped slowly back from him, her eyes never leaving his as she pulled the ribbon tie from her hair and shook out the mass of silvery waves reaching nearly to her waist. Wynn sucked in a breath. He’d never seen it entirely loose before. She became a candle flame dancing in the breeze, alive and carefree, spinning about with her gaze seeking to find him in the blue darkness. How amazing was the human form when given to the creativity of its abilities, but none so mesmerizing or alluring as her in this simplistic beauty. Limbs stretching out, spine curved, neck elongated. His living fire. Would he be consumed if he touched her?
Svetlana spun to a halt. Waves of hair fell over one side of her face. “This was originally intended as a pas de deux. A dance for two.”
He went to her and slipped his arms around her waist. Her chest pumped up and down from the exertion of her lungs. Without thinking, he lowered his lips to press a kiss to her pulsing carotid artery just under her jaw.
She shivered. “Is this how you check a woman’s heart rate?”
“Not usually, no. But then, I can’t help myself with you.”
“You’ve been remiss in your duties, Doctor.”
“Apologies for the delay, my lady. A misstep that I should like to remedy as often as possible.”
Her eyes slanted up to him. The brightness burned into him, carving out the hidden recesses. “We seem to be out of step more times than not.”
From the day she’d limped into his hospital it seemed. Just off balance from one another yet stable enough to keep them wobbling instead of fixing themselves to firm ground. All he’d ever wanted was to keep her steady.
“When we first married it was for convenience, and I told you I wanted nothing in return, but I do want more. I want you. Always. Because I love you.” Heart pounding, he touched his forehead to hers. Time was created for this moment. Where nothing existed beyond her and him. “Will you have me, Lana?”
Her hands moved up his chest and cupped his face. “Yes.”
Wynn swept her into his arms and turned to the grand staircase. The soft blackness of the sleeping castle wrapped them in anticipated embrace as The Sleeping Beauty’s music faded behind them. Svetlana’s star earrings brushed his cheek as her warm breath caressed his neck, and his heaven for the moment was gained.