While she’d never wished for more social status, she did miss the physical grace of being completely healthy.
In her youth, she’d been a fierce, unafraid rider, an excellent tree climber, and a nimble dancer. Those lessons were what she’d enjoyed most about her social education. Her body had always been lithe and athletic, and dancing had come to her as naturally as breathing.
And now?
Well, now she was getting there. Slowly.
Just before her first season, she’d been ravaged by an infection of the lungs. A sudden rainstorm in the fall had interrupted her ride, and rather than return home, she reveled in the storm. The breathless excitement that had come with a breakneck ride through the rain.
The next day, she’d woken feeling sluggish and worn thin. Three days later the fever had come, robbing her of every ounce of energy. Then the cough had started. For three months she’d hung onto life by the thinnest of threads.
Barely able to eat, or even breathe, she’d lay in bed sure she’d never rise from it again.
Her mother swore that it was her sheer determination that had saved her life.
Lily tended to agree.
She was nearly completely healed but it had taken these three years to accomplish the feat and she still had coughing fits once in a while, though they grew less and less frequent as the months passed.
She was certain, given time, she could return to her former self completely.
Merrick spun her again. “I was wrong before.”
She blinked up at him. The movement of their dance had allowed her to slip into the past. Only in Merrick’s arms could she remember who she was. Funny. She’d underestimated how much she missed some parts of Laura.
How much she missed Merrick and Laura. “About what?”
“You are different,” he whispered, low and close to her ear, his breath tickling the small hairs that framed her face. Her heart raced at the feel.
“How?” She looked at him and for some odd reason, she was aware of just how close his mouth was to hers.
“The way you dance…” His brow furrowed. “It’s more hesitant. Stiff.”
She tried to breathe normally, but only he would notice the small change in her. And here she’d thought she was her old self in his arms. But she’d not share what happened. Not with him. Not with anyone. To admit to the weakness that had ravaged her would be to admit she was weak. Or that such an affliction could happen again.
Perhaps even worse, she’d risk repeating the past hurts of a friend abandoning her in her weakest moment.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing different about me. You said so yourself. I am the same stubborn girl I’ve always been.”
“Hmmm,” he said, his gaze narrowing even as he picked up the pace to the uptick in the music.
But something was off. She wasn’t used to the exercise, or the thoughts of the past had her heart racing..,or perhaps that was the feel of his arms. Most unexpected.
But whatever the reason, her chest tightened and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
Her lungs heaved even as her head spun. A small cry of exasperation fell from her lips. It had been half a year since she’d had an episode like this. She’d thought them past.
Her doctor had seen fit to have her slowly build her exercise regimen to strengthen the lungs. And it had been going so well.
Lily tightened her grip on his arm even as her feet stumbled, the steps eluding her.
Merrick’s hand tightened at her waist. “Lily?” he whispered. “Are you all right?”
“Get me, get me out of here,” she said, unable to catch even the smallest breath. “I need air.”
Quickly and efficiently, he danced them to the edge of the crowd and then pulled her out onto the terrace. Just to the right was a stone wall and he half carried, half dragged her to the end that was shadowed and out of the light.
She collapsed into his side, her cheek pressing into his shoulder as the scent of sandalwood and leather surrounded her. That scent, the feel of his strong muscles began to relax her chest and she drew in a deep breath.
He sat on the wall, pulling her with him, tucking her under his arm. “Lily?” he whispered again.
“I’m all right,” she answered between short breaths. “Or I will be in just a moment.”
Lily closed her eyes as she rested her cheek on his upper arm. Slowly her chest loosened and her breathing returned to normal. He didn’t ask any questions, which she was exceptionally grateful for as his arm slid around her shoulders.
Then his cheek rested on the top of her head. “Better?”
She nodded, ever so slightly. The attack, that was the only word able to describe them, left her scared and drained and for just this moment, she didn’t want to speak, she just wanted to bask in the strength of his wide shoulders and his muscled arm.
“Lily,” he started and she heard the change in his voice, it dropped low with the question he wished to ask.
“Merrick...please,” she pleaded. “I can’t. Not just yet.”
Unlike her, he conceded and they sat there for several more minutes, enveloped in the dark clear night.
She supposed there was some merit to being less tenacious. Not for her of course. But it was nice that he didn’t badger her for information. He must have questions, but he didn’t ask them. Just allowed her to recover.
“Thank you,” she finally murmured.
“We should get you back inside before you are missed,” he answered, but he didn’t move.
She shook her head. “My parents won’t mind. Not when I tell them why we were out here.”
“This happens often then?” He stiffened, his body growing harder under hers. “What happened to change your parents so thoroughly?”
“I…” Her throat tightened. Lily did not cry. Ever.
“Is this why you haven’t danced? When did this begin? Do they know what ails you?”
She shook her head, her cheek brushing against the softness of his coat. “Merrick,” she sighed. “I know you want an explanation but—” She hated the weakness so much.
He squeezed her arm a bit tighter. “Take a few minutes if you need to.”
She grimaced. He was politely trying to say that she needed to offer an explanation of some sort. Her refusal crowded her mouth. But then she swallowed it back down. She supposed some sort of bare-bones explanation was required.
“If you must know, I contracted a disease of the lung while you were away. It is the reason I rarely dance or ride, though I am much improved. These sorts of attacks rarely happen anymore. Another year and I’ll be completely healed according to my doctor.”
She didn’t tell him about how she’d wasted away, how the first season, she’d barely had the strength to stand, or about how cruelly Abigail had abandoned her.
He nodded against the top of her head, but his hand grew even tighter and his breath was growing short. “I see.”
Did he? Did he realize how much she held back? He must. Why else would he suddenly seem nervous? “Thank you again. Your help was most...unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” He leaned back then, looking down at her, and she found herself glancing up to meet his gaze. “Whatever happened between us, you were always my friend. I would never leave you in such a state as you were.”