Klaus chuckles. “Too true, sister of mine – forgive me. No one will ever accuse you of hiding in the shadows.”

I dart a look at Ben and find that he is watching me, his expression inscrutable.

He steps forward and presses a long kiss to my cheek. “Beautiful, Bea,” he murmurs, his words caressing my ear and sending a shiver of awareness through my body.

We share a look then, and I know. He sees me. He knows me. And he thinks I’m beautiful.

We move across the terrace accompanied by Hero’s high, breathless stream of chatter and Klaus’s animated answers to her questions. The excitement of the evening has got hold of us all. We’re giddy with it. And why not? We’re in fairyland. It feels unreal, like a dream.

A sound breaks through my daze – the scattered, birdsong sound of a fiddle striking up a tune. I hadn’t noticed the ramshackle band setting up, and when they pick up their instruments the air hums with excitement. A lithe, graceful young man with a flashing white smile lowers a bow to his violin and a wild and joyful melody skitters through the air to howls of approval. The crowd begins clearing a space for dancing immediately.

“Well…” Ben lifts an eyebrow. “Surely you didn’t get all dressed up like that to stand around. Will you dance with me?”

“Of course,” I say, stepping into the circle of his arms. “I’d love to.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Ben holds me close while we dance, and I think about what a good thing it is to twirl about in someone’s arms under the stars. I’ve never been particularly interested in dancing before, but it suddenly seems like a wonderful idea.

“Whoever invented dancing should get a medal,” says Ben, echoing my thoughts.

“I think we’ve always danced,” I say dreamily. “Homer wrote about dancing in the Iliad, you know. That’s almost three thousand years ago. But every society must have danced long before that, though of course it’s harder to find evidence.”

“Perhaps dancing makes us human,” Ben suggests with a smile.

I pull back a little. “Oh no, Ben,” I say firmly, “plenty of birds dance. After all, one only has to look at the grebe…”

I stop because Ben is laughing, holding me so close that I can feel the laughter rumble in his chest. I look up at him, and his eyes are crinkled around the edges.

“I’m just glad we’re including dancing in the experiment,” he says.

“What are your observations?” I ask.

“I observe that your cheeks are flushed.” He runs a finger down the side of my face. “That your eyes are sparkling, and that we haven’t stepped on each other’s toes. I would call that a success.”