Ought she to wipe it down her gown? Except that would look so, well, grubby. Iardith would never do such a thing! And anyway the musicians were now playing the introduction to a waltos. So she just lightly touched his fingers, and when he clasped her hand to hold it, she discovered that his hand was also warm and damp. Lightning sparked through her. She was getting one of the couple dances, not a fours dance! Pride—trepidation—apprehension—delight—a cloudburst of emotions followed the lightning, almost making her dizzy. Counterpoint to that was the movement of the dance itself. Round, and round, step-two-three, step-two-three. Lios was very good at it. Breathe, she commanded herself. This was her chance, probably her only chance. She was finally alone with Lios, or as alone as she was ever going to be. She peeked up. His dark eyes under their long lashes flicked continuously from side to side as he watched everywhere, steering them through the whirling couples. She was intensely conscious of his hand gripping hers, damp as it was, and the other resting correctly against her waist at the side.
