“Shh. Do not say that.” He leaned close, as if imparting a great secret. “Their feelings are very sensitive. Everyone knows not to insult a dancing bear.”

He spun her around, his hand landing on her back again with unerring precision. She shook her head, smiling. “And did your mother hope to give you all the skills of a bear when she taught you to dance?”

Another twitch of his lips. This time a grin broke its way into the corners. “She was more set on the French dances, I confess.”

“As I suspected. Now.” She tilted her head closer to his. “We shall truly test your mettle when the orchestra takes a break. I overheard the bride’s sister-in-law saying that a few of them are forming a small ragtime band that will entertain us for about half an hour, and I happen to be an expert ragtime dancer.”

“I do not even know what this is. Ragtime?” He didn’t look intimidated at the thought of something new, though. His mother really must have taught him well.

She grinned. “You’ll see. The Americans brought it over with them. Apparently it’s all the rage across the pond.”

“Ah. Well, if it involves me dancing with you, I am certain to like it.”

Heavens. She couldn’t blame her rocketing pulse on the dance, not when he looked at her as he was doing now. “I have no doubt you’ll be king of the dance floor, Zivon the Mighty Tiger.”

His chuckle filled the space between them, warmed her, held her. His gaze caressed her face. “I like this Lily.”

She bit back a grin. She was certainly more flirtatious than her usual self. “Hopefully not too much. I’m not certain where she usually hides.”

But that only made him laugh more. “Perhaps what I should have said is that I like that both Lilys are within you.” He pulled her closer. Not much, not enough that anyone would look at them and think anything of it. Just enough that she noticed. “To be honest, I have yet to see a Lily I do not like.”

She’d probably ruin the effect of This Lily if she were to squeak out an uncertain Oh? like she wanted to do. So she smiled instead. “I’m glad to hear it. Because I’m rather fond of Zivon the tiger, Zivon the dancing bear, and Zivon the loping reindeer.”

The thrumming of her heart wasn’t because of the music. Or the next fraction closer he pulled her. It was because, for the first time, his smile went all the way to his eyes, through them, and lit something behind them.

She’d never tasted a victory so sweet.