Page 35 of Fit for a King

“By accusing your feet of betrayal?”

“They don’t seem to want to go where they’re supposed to, sir.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, and Noah noticed.

It was dangerous the way those knowing looks of his seemed designed to test my discipline. It was like he saw past the crown, to who I was, and it was unnerving.

“Maybe they just need someone to follow,” I said, taking another step closer. “Someone whose order they’ll obey.”

Noah swallowed, and when I held my hand out to him, he took in a breath.

“May I have this dance?”

He glanced at my outstretched hand. “I… You want to dance with me?”

“You don’t want to dance with me?”

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. Of course I’d like to dance with you, but you don’t have to⁠—”

“I know,” I said, taking another step closer despite the alarm bells warning me to leave. “I want to.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he finally closed the gap between us and slipped his gloved hand into mine. The material was soft against my palm, the white a stark contrast to my sun-kissed skin. When I closed my fingers around his and moved to put my hand on his waist—just beneath his waistcoat—there was a soft gasp.

“This is the proper hold,” I said as I raised his other hand to my shoulder. “Is that okay with you?”

I didn’t have that much height on him, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the way he had to angle his face up to look me in the eye.

“Yes, sir.”

“Nicholas,” I reminded him, wanting him to feel comfortable calling me that when we were together…alone.

“Sorry.” He gave a soft laugh, and something in my stomach flipped. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“Why?” I said, gently applying pressure to his lower back and closing the final inch between us.

“Because you’re the king.”

“I’m aware. But I also have a name.”

“I know, but⁠—”

“But?”

He shook his head and flexed his fingers in mine. “Nothing. You’re right. Of course you want to be addressed by your name.”

“Not by everyone,” I said. “But I’d like to think the man I’m dancing with would call me by my name.”

“In that case,” he said so softly I almost missed it, “feel free to call me Noah.”

I didn’t need his permission to call him by his first name; we both knew that. But the fact he’d given it made my heart beat a little faster. I was wading into dangerous waters, but I’d be damned if I couldn’t stop myself from diving in headfirst.

“In that case, may I have this dance, Noah?”

His cheeks flushed, and when he nodded and the music changed, I began leading him in the traditional six-count box step that was the basis of any good waltz. One step forward, one step back, sidestep, and so on. He relaxed into my hold and followed my lead as if he’d been doing it all his life, and by mid-song we were moving around the ballroom as one.

Noah was a quick study, his body fluid as he followed every path I led him down. No one would ever believe he hadn’t danced before, certainly not me. When I dropped my arm by his waist to spin him, he went with a joyful laugh.

The sound warmed every single part of me, and when I pulled him back into my embrace, he came with an eager smile full of sincerity.