Mayra grimaced and shot Peter an apologetic look, but his eyes had already moved on to something else. Suddenly she felt absolutely terrible. She finished the song only half-aware of what her dance partner was saying.
She needed to talk to Peter. She imagined what he must have felt, watching her laugh and dance in someone else's arms. Just because she wasn't sure how she felt about him didn't mean she wanted to hurt him, and that had to have hurt.
As soon as the song finished, she curtsied to her partner and pushed her way through the crowd back to her table.
It was empty.
Peter had left!
She swallowed her misery and determined to go look for him. What a mess she'd made of things! What a terrible friend she was!
But it wasn't her fault, entirely. He'd gestured for her to dance with Gordon, but maybe that was just to be polite, and because he knew she didn't have any feelings whatsoever for the nice, but dim, man.
It also wasn't her fault that she'd gotten swept up dancing again with someone else. Another song began as she drowned in her thoughts, and turned to go look for Peter. She'd have to try and make it up to him somehow.
She didn't have to look far, because suddenly he was there in front of her, hand outstretched, offering her a dance.
Mayra blinked at him, confused.
"Do you know how to dance?" She asked.
"You're not the only one who can learn things," Peter said. He smiled over at Gordon nearby, who gave him an encouraging nod. Had the two found time for some kind of lesson?
Mayra placed her hand in his for at least the third time that day, but it felt different this time. More intimate. A shiver ran up her spine as Peter drew her into his arms in a closed position for the dance.
"I'm sorry," She said softly, "I didn't mean–"
"We need to stop apologizing to each other over nothing," He smiled at her. "Don't you think it'll get old?"
"Probably," She conceded. His shoulder was so high that her hand rested closer to his bicep in the dance position. Her eyes lingered there a moment, and he tilted his head in a silent question.
She blushed in response, and his curious expression intensified.
"What? Do I have something on my shirt?" He asked.
"I was just remembering the wound you got here," She stroked the place lightly with her fingers. "And wondering whether it fully healed over the years."
"Ah, the wound that you bound up with your torn up petticoat?" He teased, causing her to blush far more deeply.
"Yes, that wound," She muttered.
"After which you cut the shirt off of my poor, unconscious, defenseless body?" He pressed.
"That part was Dr. Sherman, not me. All I did was help you get dressed again." She defended herself, but her face couldn't get any more red if she wanted it to.
"Ah, yes, virtuously, with your eyes closed, as I recall. No peeking whatsoever." He'd long gotten past his own embarrassment of the event, and enjoyed turning the tables on her.
"Of course not!" She said, but her face said otherwise.
"Ah ah ah, You can't lie to me. I can tell." He grinned at her.
"Maybe a little. To make sure you didn't need help," She admitted.
"Of course," Peter nodded wisely, deciding to let her off the hook.
"I didn't see anything," She added. His bare chest and back had been curtained behind the shirt she had held up for him to shrug into.
"There wasn't much of scrawny old me to see back then, I'm afraid. I'm much more muscular now," He straightened his shoulders with pride.
"Yes, I'm sure you are," She mused quietly. His bicep certainly was larger than the lean, ropey muscles she remembered from when she'd bandaged him up.
He spun her, and she realized how it must look to anyone watching. They were dancing rather closely and she was blushing wildly.
"You're doing a good job warding off any suitors," She looked at him slyly.
"Am I?" He raised his eyebrows innocently.
"Hmmm, that's on purpose, isn't it?" Mayra asked.
"Do you mind?" He ducked his head slightly in chagrin.
"You know… I don't think I mind it at all," She replied thoughtfully. It was true. Though she'd had fun with her two other dance partners, it was much more pleasant here with Peter.
His eyes lit with self-satisfaction and a small measure of triumph.
"I'm glad," Peter said simply.
He lapsed into a moment of contemplation and Mayra left him to his thoughts, reveling in the tune and the weather. The party was absolutely beautiful, and the waning sunlight gave everything a magical air. The Rhone girls were each matched to a partner, and Mayra scanned them briefly for signs of discomfort.
"Your brides seem to be doing well," Peter commented, following her gaze. "I'm honestly a bit surprised no one has started a fight. The Cetoan men are either remarkably well-behaved, or scared stiff to embarrass themselves in front of the Rhone women.
"I hope this all goes smoothly," She began to fret. "I want them all to have happy lives matched with the right man."
"How will you know who is right for whom?" Peter wondered aloud.
"Oh, lots of ways. Some of it is just intuition, but I think a good sign is when they can work alongside each other well, be kind to each other, and have fun together."
They both contemplated her words as they looked at each other. She had meant it honestly in response to his question, and hadn't intended to apply the test to herself and Peter.
But it was in both of their thoughts, now. They worked together well, and had plenty of fun together. He thought of how she'd torn her own petticoat to take care of his wounds after battle, and she thought about how many times he'd helped her carry things or deflected some of Riley's teasing when her hackles began to rise.
"How good is your intuition?" He asked, pressing his hand against her back to pull her a little closer.
Her breath caught and her stomach did a little flip.
"It's pretty accurate, normally," She stuttered.
"Oh?" The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. "You don't think it will get overworked, with all these brides to match up?"
"Um, Maybe," She struggled to concentrate. "But I'll do my best for each of them."
He sensed that his closeness was muddling her thoughts, and his grin grew wider.
"That's admirable," He said. "But it sounds exhausting. Do you need to rest for a while?"
"If I'm exhausted, it's from not sleeping well," She complained, glad for a change of subject.
"Why aren't you sleeping?" Peter frowned.
"Maybe it's the sound of the ocean. I'm not sure. Something just doesn't feel right with me, and I'm not sure what it could be. When I do sleep, I'm having restless dreams." Mayra shook her head. "It's probably nothing."
The song came to its conclusion, and the two stopped moving, but didn't step apart. Peter opened his mouth to say something, when a voice interrupted his thought.
"Going to stand there all night with your hands on my sister, soldier?" Riley strolled up with Ashley on his arm.
Peter jumped back as if Mayra was a hot stove. "Sir! No, Sir, I'm sorry, I…"
"Riley! Don't be mean to him!" Mayra wagged her finger at her brother, who was grinning widely.
"Don't get me wrong," Riley continued, despite Ashley squeezing his arm in silent chastisement, "You're welcome to the brat if you want her, I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into first."
"Thanks a lot," Mayra rolled her eyes. "If you can dupe someone as amazing as Ashley into spending forever with your sorry self, I think I can manage just fine."
Ashley snickered and Riley held a hand to his chest in mock offense.
"On the contrary! It was she who lured me into her web. Pulling me into dark alleyways, kissing me in the shadows…" Riley stopped when his wife swatted his arm and Mayra covered her ears.
"I don't need to hear this!" She exclaimed.
"Maybe you do. The strategy worked amazingly for my lovely bride. Maybe she could give you some pointers," Riley winked at his sister and wiggled his eyebrows at a rather shocked Peter.
"Stop embarrassing them," Ashley chided, pulling her husband away.
"Riley's ridiculous," Mayra said by way of apology to Peter.
"But he makes some interesting points," Peter pretended to seriously consider the advice until Mayra laughed.
"Interesting indeed." She agreed.
"If you need to test out any of it for verification, I'll be around," Peter assured her playfully.
"I'll keep that in mind." She rolled her eyes at the comment, but couldn't quite stop her heart from beating a little faster.
Dancing is the quickest way to someone's heart. That, or a long knife. But, you know, different goals.