This she did before she also spun off (or flew off), and he found himself confronted with Florian, who immediately curved an arm around his stomach, bowed low, lifted and then caught True’s arm and spun him around.

Everyone about them shouted with laughter and True grinned at his man before a comely woman laid claim to Florian.

True was pulled around and Farah was there.

When the music started building to a crescendo, she took both his hands and moved to the side, forcing him to move to the other. She took them faster and faster, doing this leaning back. He had no choice but to do the same, watching her long, shining hair flying to the side, her skirts billowing, her face gleaming, her laughter never ending.

It made him feel odd.

Dizzy.

Out of control.

And he liked it.

Because he also felt strangely more alive than he’d ever felt. His heartbeat in his chest escalating not due to a frustrating conversation with his father, infuriating news about Carrington, deep concern about an order to send his men into battle, his blood spiking because he was leading them there.

No, it wasn’t any of that.

He felt…

Uninhibited.

Free.

As the music sounded like it was going to die away, he tugged sharply on Farah’s hands, which meant she flew forward and slammed into his body.

He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her well off her feet, holding her at her thighs under the curve of her behind, and kept twirling around and around.

True watched her head fall back, her fingers linked around the back of his neck and her laughter rang through the room as he kept his head tipped, a grin stamped on his lips, and exalted in her glee.

He did this until the music stopped, and when it did, he wished it hadn’t.

But only then did True cease whirling and let her slide down his body.

That was a liberty he should not have taken, but he could not have stopped himself even if he’d been thinking.

But he was not.

He was captivated by her happiness.

Farah did not keep her hands linked at his neck.

She wrapped her arms around it, pulling him down to her.

Lost in her, feeling the warm softness of her body, her breast heaving against his chest, more aware of her than he’d ever been—and he’d been very aware of her for some time. Indeed, more aware of her than he had ever been of anyone, True bent to her, watching her eyes heat, glittering like topaz.

And then his gaze dropped, and he saw nothing but her lips.

“To the Prince and Princess of Wodell! Farah and True!” someone shouted right before his mouth would find hers.

A cheer split the air. “Farah and True!”