Petals

twelve

'Will you dance with me?'

Once more, Annabelle found herself incapable of movement.

He knows! she thought, panicked. Oh, God, he knows. How could he? How could he have ever found out?

With a trembling hand, she reached out to accept it, but he drew his own hand back. "Allow me." Annabelle almost jumped when she felt his hands gently tucking the flower into her hair. It was hardly proper in their current location. What on Earth was he thinking? Still, she was too stunned by the fact that he knew she was the one who had been sending him flowers, to protest.

"Shall we?" he inquired, offering her his arm as a waltz began to play.

"O - of course," she managed to say.

She could feel his eyes on her as they danced, and, against her will, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Oh, she had known this would happen if she continued with the correspondence. Why hadn't she just let it rest?

"Annabelle."

Unable to help herself, she raised her gaze to his and swallowed hard.

"You seem rather...melancholy," he commented in a low voice that was meant for her alone. "Is something the matter?"

Annabelle frowned, peering at him curiously. "I - you - I mean...I thought you - don't you...?"

It was a grin he wore, Annabelle was sure of it, though it seemed barely more than a curve of the lips. "Don't I know you're the one who sent the flowers?"

Annabelle glanced away, feeling herself go pink again. "Yes, that." He was still watching her, making her feel dizzy and disoriented. Still, she forced herself to take a breath and meet his gaze. "It was a ridiculous idea, really. I am sorry for bothering you so much."

He arched one brow. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, my lady, I'm sorry to say that I don't regret it at all."

Annabelle's stomach clenched. Surely he couldn't mean that. Surely -

"But you're engaged!"

His amused expression suddenly turned into a fierce glower. "I told you that was a lie! Where did you hear that, anyway?"

"Your father - he was talking about it to some of his friends."

Adrian snorted. "I should have known. Don't bother with it. I'm not engaged." He shifted, bringing them closer together than propriety might have liked. Annabelle knew she should protest, but couldn't find the will to do so.

They danced the rest of the song in silence, and when it ended, Annabelle expected him to return her to her mother. Instead, he led her towards the terrace, where he had earlier spoken to Melanie.

Annabelle gnawed the corner of her mouth nervously. The part of her that worshipped Adrian, protested that he would never try anything untoward, but the rational part of her argued that she hardly knew anything about him. In fact, what she felt for him was little more than calf love, Annabelle realized with a start - much too belatedly.

She should pull away, return to the ballroom, and put all of this behind her. She truly should, she told herself. But her feet seemed disconnected from her will, and followed Adrian to a shaded part of the terrace, out of sight from the ballroom. There, he released her arm, which gave her some small measure of comfort.

He was watching her again, with those unsettling blue-green eyes. Turning away, she wrung her hands tightly together. The silence prodded at her, urging her to say something.