The music swelled, and he began to move. Aware that now, in reality, every eye was indeed upon her, Kat struggled to keep up, desperately counting. Several times she stumbled, and once she went left when he went right.

He sighed, his breath brushing her hair. “I can see we’re going to have to work on this.”

“There is no need,” she said stiffly, wishing miserably she’d never come. What had she been thinking? She should have refused. It would take more drastic measures to escape now. Perhaps she could fall to the floor and have a fit; she’d once witnessed just such an occurrence at a ball years ago and the unfortunate woman had been immediately spirited away. But apparently Kat’s boldness was back at the cottage along with her comfortable clothes.

How she hated that every eye was upon them. By now everyone knew who she was, and their entire dance would be scrutinized, analyzed, conjectured about, and exaggerated until it didn’t resemble the truth at all.

“Kat.” Devon’s voice was close to her ear. “Relax, my sweet. Trust me to get us through this maze of horrid dancers.”

She looked into his eyes. “What does trust have to do with dancing?”

“When you follow someone in a dance, they have to direct you because you are dancing backward and you cannot see where you are going. I’ve often thought men do not realize how difficult it must be to relax and let a partner you sometimes barely know lead you through a maze of dancers. But you and I, we do know one another. And if there is one thing we do have, it is trust.”

She thought about this. Perhaps…perhaps he was right. Things had changed when she realized that being closer to him did have a cost—her own heart. But that was not his fault. He’d been honest with her from the beginning.

She met his gaze and found him regarding her, a quizzical gleam in his eyes. A smile was wrung from her at his hopeful expression. “I do trust you.”

“I know,” he said simply. “Relax, my lovely Kat. Let me navigate for a while.” He pulled her a little closer. “Meanwhile, you rest.”

She did as he suggested, though after a moment, it dawned on her that those dancing around them had a good foot between them while she and Devon had mere inches. “I don’t think you’re supposed to hold me this close.”

He rested his cheek against her hair. “But I like it.”

She was quiet a moment more, then she lifted her head to ask, “Why do men always get to lead?”

His lips quivered. “I’ve often wondered that myself. Perhaps we can trade off. Would you like to lead for a bit?”

Would she? She thought a moment, then nodded. “Certainly.”