“A waltz?” he offered.
She could only shake her head. “This is ridiculous. We are in the middle of a country garden, not in a London ballroom.”
“And that is exactly why we must dance.”
“But we have no music.” She desperately tried to find other excuses. If she danced with him…Her heart thumped wildly at the mere thought of how wonderful it might be.
Owen started to sing, just vocalizing a familiar waltz. His voice was beautiful. Lulled into the spell of his singing and the pull of his arms, they began to dance. The world around them spun in a shimmering haze as they twirled and whirled. The gravel of the garden path crunched beneath their boots and the occasional thrush chirped along with Owen’s captivating melody. He was a wonderful dancer, anticipating her own pattern of steps as tho
