could not dance a step. He fought back the urge to laugh as she attempted to shuffle her feet with the rhythm of the tune.
She tried with all her might, but after several more agonizing missteps, Alex began to count softly in her ear. “One and two and one and two and . . . That’s it; keep going. One and two, and . . . We can’t have the townsfolk find out that Meggie O’Day can’t dance. One, and two, and . . . That would be bad for business.”
When Megan didn’t answer, Alex looked down only to encounter the top of her head. She continued to stare at their feet, her hand holding his in a near-painful grip. When the song ended, Megan pulled from his grasp, still avoiding his gaze.
As he looked at her bowed head, his heart did a slow roll within his chest. She tried so hard to be tough, to be Meggie, when deep down she was neither. “Thank you, Megan. You saved me a day’s pay by dancing with me here rather than at The Celebration.”
“I don’t dance. I manage.”
He had to bend close to hear the words. “Well, I thank you anyway. As I said, a dollar a dance is too rich for my pockets. How is it that a dance hall owner doesn’t know how to dance?”
She glanced up at him for a moment then quickly returned her gaze to her feet as though shy. “I never had the chance for such frivolity. I’ve spent my life trying to keep a roof over my head and some food in my stomach, as well as my father’s. Teaching his daughter to dance was never a high priority in Brian Daily’s life.”
The words were said without bitterness, but Alex felt the sadness behind them nevertheless. In his quest for revenge and his hatred of her father, he had neglected to think what her life must have been like as the daughter of a wastrel.
“Where did you learn to dance?” Megan asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Alex frowned, looking out over the crowds milling through the street as he remembered. Joanna had taught him one rainy afternoon. He had been home from school in England for a rare visit, and Joanna was anxious to show off what she had learned at Grandaire’s School for Young Ladies. They had spent the afternoon laughing at his clumsy attempts; but in the end he had mastered the art and earned Joanna’s approval.
“My sister taught me,” he murmured to Megan, still half lost in his memories. She had begun to walk back toward The Celebration and without thinking, he followed along next to her, guiding her through the thick crowd of revelers by rote.
“Where’s your sister now?”
At her question, Alex straightened into a military stance. “She’s dead,” he said through tight lips.
“Oh,” Megan’s voice reflected her dismay. “I’m so sorry. Did you lose her recently?”
“Yes.”
Megan hesitated. She obviously wanted to ask him more, but politeness kept her from pursuing the topic. Instead, she went on as though nothing untoward had been said. “I always wanted a sister, or even a brother. I’ve often wondered what it might be like to have someone else in the world you shared a bond with—parents, childhood memories. Being an only child, well, I’ve just been alone.”
“You had your father,” Alex ventured, struck by the sadness in her voice, feeling again that slow roll of his heart.
Megan smiled; but when she glanced at him, the expression did not reach her eyes. “I never really had my father for long. My mother died when I was thirteen; then I lived with an aunt for three years while my father traveled the country. Once I started traveling with him, he would stay with me only as long as it suited him; then he’d move on to his next adventure and I’d follow after selling whatever business we owned at the time.”
Alex pondered how different her life had been from his with a large and loving family. He might have lost Joanna, but at least he’d had her in the first place.
Megan went on. “Sometimes I used to dream of having a family of my own, brothers and sisters to play with, to
She tried with all her might, but after several more agonizing missteps, Alex began to count softly in her ear. “One and two and one and two and . . . That’s it; keep going. One and two, and . . . We can’t have the townsfolk find out that Meggie O’Day can’t dance. One, and two, and . . . That would be bad for business.”
When Megan didn’t answer, Alex looked down only to encounter the top of her head. She continued to stare at their feet, her hand holding his in a near-painful grip. When the song ended, Megan pulled from his grasp, still avoiding his gaze.
As he looked at her bowed head, his heart did a slow roll within his chest. She tried so hard to be tough, to be Meggie, when deep down she was neither. “Thank you, Megan. You saved me a day’s pay by dancing with me here rather than at The Celebration.”
“I don’t dance. I manage.”
He had to bend close to hear the words. “Well, I thank you anyway. As I said, a dollar a dance is too rich for my pockets. How is it that a dance hall owner doesn’t know how to dance?”
She glanced up at him for a moment then quickly returned her gaze to her feet as though shy. “I never had the chance for such frivolity. I’ve spent my life trying to keep a roof over my head and some food in my stomach, as well as my father’s. Teaching his daughter to dance was never a high priority in Brian Daily’s life.”
The words were said without bitterness, but Alex felt the sadness behind them nevertheless. In his quest for revenge and his hatred of her father, he had neglected to think what her life must have been like as the daughter of a wastrel.
“Where did you learn to dance?” Megan asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Alex frowned, looking out over the crowds milling through the street as he remembered. Joanna had taught him one rainy afternoon. He had been home from school in England for a rare visit, and Joanna was anxious to show off what she had learned at Grandaire’s School for Young Ladies. They had spent the afternoon laughing at his clumsy attempts; but in the end he had mastered the art and earned Joanna’s approval.
“My sister taught me,” he murmured to Megan, still half lost in his memories. She had begun to walk back toward The Celebration and without thinking, he followed along next to her, guiding her through the thick crowd of revelers by rote.
“Where’s your sister now?”
At her question, Alex straightened into a military stance. “She’s dead,” he said through tight lips.
“Oh,” Megan’s voice reflected her dismay. “I’m so sorry. Did you lose her recently?”
“Yes.”
Megan hesitated. She obviously wanted to ask him more, but politeness kept her from pursuing the topic. Instead, she went on as though nothing untoward had been said. “I always wanted a sister, or even a brother. I’ve often wondered what it might be like to have someone else in the world you shared a bond with—parents, childhood memories. Being an only child, well, I’ve just been alone.”
“You had your father,” Alex ventured, struck by the sadness in her voice, feeling again that slow roll of his heart.
Megan smiled; but when she glanced at him, the expression did not reach her eyes. “I never really had my father for long. My mother died when I was thirteen; then I lived with an aunt for three years while my father traveled the country. Once I started traveling with him, he would stay with me only as long as it suited him; then he’d move on to his next adventure and I’d follow after selling whatever business we owned at the time.”
Alex pondered how different her life had been from his with a large and loving family. He might have lost Joanna, but at least he’d had her in the first place.
Megan went on. “Sometimes I used to dream of having a family of my own, brothers and sisters to play with, to
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