The dol slowed its beat, starting a bhangra. This was a dance from northern India, done with the shoulders to start, but then also progressing to hip swaying, twirling and complicated footwork. Though both men and women danced bhangra, the men’s and women’s steps differed slightly. As the dol beat sped up, the men jumped and squatted, using their scarves to accent the beat. Annika usually had no problem keeping up, but she had never really done it in a sari. Not to mention her left hand was still a bit sensitive.

Her sari and hand ignored, Annika and Naya—and she noticed Ravi as well, and, from the sidelines, Sajan—joined the guys as the beat got faster, and they quickly approached the hotel entrance. Some sari goddess must have been looking out for her, because as Annika kept up, her sari gracefully flowed, not once getting in her way. Daniel danced next to her, and she was aware of his every movement, as well as his gaze upon her. From the corner of her eye, she saw gray and blue, which meant Sajan was dancing on her other side. She dared a glance at Daniel and was captured by the amusement in his eyes. That was all it took, and she missed a beat, caught her sari underfoot and was falling, her newly stitched hand ready to brace her fall, when she was caught midfall. Strong hands encircled her waist and held her as she fought for balance, her injured hand flailing in the air.

“Whoa, there.” Daniel dodged the errant hand, avoiding a smack in the face. “Careful with my handiwork.”

Annika grabbed what she could with her good hand and found herself clinging to a whole lot of biceps. Or steady rock, because that was what it felt like. Daniel pulled her up to standing, where she avoided the green gaze by checking her sari and all the surrounding area as if her very life depended on it.

“Are you okay?” Sajan was at her other side.

“Yes. I’m fine—just tripped over my own sari.” She flushed. “Not used to bhangra in a sari.”

Sajan’s brow furrowed. “Maybe skip the dancing for a while? Until you’re healed.”

“I’m fine.” She tried not to sound irritated, but really, she was a grown woman.

“Sajan!” A hushed male voice called out to him, grabbing him and dragging him toward the groom. “We need you to guard the shoes.” Sajan nodded and left, leaving her alone with Daniel.

The jaan had moved past them; the music changed to a more subdued yet still festive tune as the bride’s mother approached the groom to greet him.