They moved out to the floor without a word, staring at each other, and he felt himself grow more breathless with every step. Now that he knew he was in love with her, the very sight of her was enough to render him thus. Pleasantly breathless, that was it.

Did he need to breathe, in all truth? It seemed an excessive action, all things considered.

The waltz commenced, his arm around her, her hand in his, the skirts of her gown continuously brushing against his legs. Each pass felt like the brush of skin to him, and it stirred his soul into something destined to drive him mad. They didn’t speak; for his part, he could not.

Words failed him.

Holding her close as he was, there was nothing he could say. She was a vision, loveliness itself, and her perfect, full lips pressed into a small smile that curved with such charm he wanted to trace them with a finger. Her waist beneath his hand felt all too perfect, the dress perfectly molding to her impeccable form, and what skin was exposed seemed tinged with the same adorable blush that ever touched her cheeks.

Even in his mind, he was raving with compliments of her, flattery he could not speak, sincere though it was. She wouldn’t wish to hear it, true though it was. And he would find a way to ruin whatever poetic phrasing he might have been able to prepare anyway.

Elinor had his full attention, and that was all he could do at this moment. Twirling with her, holding her, moving with her in this room, her natural citrus, cinnamon, and honey fragrance filling every one of his senses, he felt that everything in his world, in his life, was perfectly right.

He needed nothing else.

Need.

Oh, the word rose within him, repeated itself over and over in his mind, beat to the tune of the very waltz they danced to. He needed her, in ever so many ways. He needed her to make his life complete, to make his joy complete, to become the man he wished to be. Need for this woman and all that she could provide him.

Only her.

His grip on her hand tightened with the fervency of his wish, and the corners of her mouth spread a bit further, the barest hint of her teeth showing.

She looked as though she might laugh, and he so wished she would.

“Why do you smile like that, Elinor?” he asked, his own smile moving in response.

She hummed slightly. “I’ve never had a waltz such as this, Hugh.”

“And that makes you laugh?”

“Yes,” she replied simply. Then, of all blessed things, she sighed, and her smile grew further still. “Oh yes, it does. A perfect waltz must be enjoyed.”