A Gift of Dragons - Anne McCaffrey [53]
“We do and it’s much better to make them for yourself. Then you’ve only yourself to blame if you’ve blisters.”
“Blisters? They would be bad for a runner.”
“Almost as bad as sticklebush slivers.”
He groaned. “Will I ever be able to live that down?”
“You can try.” Maybe she could get him to dance with her all night. He was possibly the best partner she’d ever had. Not that she ever lacked for them. But he was subtly different. In his dancing, too, for he seemed to know many combinations of the dance steps and she really had to keep her attention on her feet and following his lead. Maybe it was him being a Holder’s son.
“Maybe it’s being a runner,” and his remark startled her, it being near what she’d just been thinking, “but you’re the lightest thing on your feet.” He reset his hands more firmly about her, drawing her as close as he could.
They were both silent, each concentrating on the complexities of the dance. It ended all too soon for Tenna. She didn’t really wish to release him. Nor he, her. So they stood on the dance floor, arms at their sides but not with much distance between them. The music began again, a faster dance, and before she could say a word, Haligon had swung her into his arms and moved off in the rhythm of this tune. This time they had to concentrate not only on the steps but also to avoid collisions with more erratic dancers whirling about the floor.
Three dances to a set and Haligon whisked her off the floor during the change of musicians on the pretext of needing a drink. With glasses of chilled white wine, he guided her into the shadow of a deserted stall.
She smiled to herself, rehearsing a number of deft rejections if she needed them.
“I don’t think you’re at all lame, Tenna,” he said conversationally. “Especially if the station master let you take a run down to the port. Care to have a go at the first toss dance after all?”
His expression dared her.
“We’ll see.”
Pause.
“So, will you run on tomorrow?”
“I’ll be careful with the wine in case I do,” she said, half warning him as she lifted the glass.
“Will you make it to the sea from here in one run?”
“Quite likely. It’s spring and there’d be no snow on the pass trace.”
“Would you still go if there were?”
“No one said anything about snow on the pass trace at the station.”
“Keep your ears open, won’t you?”
“A runner always needs to know conditions on the trace.” She gave him a stern look.
“All right, I’ve got the message.”
“Fair enough.”
Pause.
“You’re not at all what I expected, you know,” Haligon said respectfully.
“I can quite candidly say the same of you, Haligon,” she replied.
The new musicians played the first bar of the next song, to acquaint people with a sample of the dance to come.
So, when Tenna felt his arm about her shoulders, she did not resist the pressure. Nor did she when both arms enfolded her and his mouth found hers. It was a nice kiss, not sloppy as others had been, but well placed on her lips, as if he knew what he was about in kissing. His arms about her were sure, too, not crushing her needlessly against him. Respectful, she thought . . . and then, as the kiss deepened with her cooperation, she didn’t think of anything but enjoying the experience.
Haligon monopolized her all evening, rather deftly, she realized. Always whisking her off the dance floor before anyone else could find her. They kissed quite a bit between dances. He was far more respectful of her person than she expected. And said so.
“With the punch you can deliver, my girl,” he answered, “you can bet your last mark I’m not about to risk my brother’s fate.”
He also found other chilled drinks for her to drink instead of more wine. She appreciated that even more. Especially when the music of the toss dance began. The floor cleared of all save a few hardy couples.
“Shall we?” and Haligon’s grin was all the challenge she needed.
The ache in her right shin was really minor and her confidence in his partnering had grown throughout the evening; otherwise she would not