Conaan did not reply her question, as he let his fingers fill the spaces between hers, his hand on her waist tightening. Slowly, he led her to the empty spotlight, her eyes big.

The chord had struck up a familiar tune, one that was a heavy use for the traditional mating days and wedding ceremonies. Conaan didn't think anything else could fit half as well.

Eleanor moved slowly with him, a rather dignified dance she found she loved, his hand guiding her steps.

Slowly, he let go of her waist, then took gentle hold of her other hand as the chorus reached a peak. She pulled away from him, his...