The Deception Dance

by Rita Stradling

  For all I know, that’s the owner of this castle and I’m following him to his bathroom. I should go back; I’m being stupid. I shift my weight from foot to foot. I could just peek in, if the door is ajar, and run back.

  I creep down the hallway, lifting my gown up with both hands, so the fabric doesn’t brush the floor. The man left the dark wood door cracked open and a light shines from inside. From the sliver of the room I can see, there’s a billiard table and perhaps a...

  The door swings open. In the open door, silhouetted with a halo of light, stands Andras. He does not look whatsoever surprised to catch me, bent over, snooping through a crack in the door.

  Jumping up, I stumble back. “I was...” I flatten myself against the wall. My breath comes much too fast, “I was looking for the restroom.”

  He smiles, lighting up his jewel eyes. He takes a step toward me, riveting his gaze on me, as he shakes his head. “No, you were looking for me.”

  The noise I make is neither a dissent nor assent, more like, “um-huh.”

  He closes the distance.

  “This is wrong.” I breathe, “You’re on a date, Andras. I’m on a date.”

  He cups his hand around the back of my neck and leans in to whisper, “I do not care.”

  I inhale his strong, musky cologne. My legs won’t support me. I close my eyes to rein in my nerves. My eyelids snap open, “Who was that woman?” I did not mean to say that so resentfully. Who she is makes no difference to me, not at all. I rush to say, “I mean, never mind. Um, what I came to say is, I’m sorry for ...”

  He leans down to kiss my shoulder.

  “…leaving you...” I gulp, and then add, “Without a ride.”

  His lips trail up my neck, sending tingles dripping throughout my body.

  I tip up my chin. “We shouldn’t...”

  He presses his muscled chest against me, pinning me to the wall. He peers down, hands gripping my hips.

  My lips part to let out a ragged breath.

  “Raven?” A shaky voice calls from the end of the hall.

  Andras doesn’t release me, his sparkling gaze still holds me captivated. He growls over his shoulder, “Go away.”

  “Raven,” the voice commands, more determined, but still shaky.

  I just have enough room to turn my head. Chauncey stands at the end of the hall, spectacular in a green gown, visibly quaking.

  I furrow my brow and stare.

  Her voice has a bit of a whine, “Raven, please.”

  I glance back at Andras, who has not shifted his stance, except for also turning to Chauncey. The curve of his brow and tightening around his mouth are undeniably hostile; the unfriendly look drops so fast, perhaps I imagined it.

  I touch his cheek. “Give me a second.”

  He caresses my lips with his, taking my lower-lip between his and tugging. I stand, as if still pinned while Andras backs into the billiards room and turns.

  Chauncey paces, in short spurts, at the end of the hall. Her gaze darts about the space, her hair sticking up, as if someone mussed it; she still looks like a goddess: a distressed, possibly insane goddess. When I step into the alcove where she paces, I hear her muttering words under her breath.

  She needs help. I hold out my hand. “Are you okay? Do you want me to find Tobias to take you back to the...”

  Chauncey stops pacing and grabs my arm so forcefully, it hurts. She’s mad, psychotic, the gleam in her eyes…

  I squirm to elbow out of her hold.

  She shakes her head and releases me. When her gaze fixes on me again, I see no trace of the madness, as if it had never been there. She whispers fervently, “We need to go. You need to get away from that... that man.”

  I glance down the hall, “Andras?”

  She nods and hurries to the stairs; I don’t follow.

  “Do you know him?”

  Turning back, Chauncey scoffs, “No…” as if knowing him is the most ridiculous suggestion in the world. Again, almost laughing, she says, “No. But, I can tell what he is...” she swallows, "Trash. Trust me…”

  It’s my turn to laugh derisively. “Trust you? Trust you. If I had a choice between trusting a venomous snake and you, Chauncey, I’d choose the snake.”

  She halts to glare. “What’s your problem?”

  I just gape, not sure if I should laugh or scream. Lifting up my hands, I shout, “You’re kidding right? You drugged and deserted me.”

  Her arms fold around her body. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Unable to hide my animosity, I lean forward. “You added ingredients to my shot, remember?”

  She slumps down a little. “At the club?”

  I nod, with a grimace.

  She stands straighter, as if rallying herself, and holds up her hand. “It wasn’t like that, I didn’t add anything. I just had them make a strong shot for you, a couple different alcohols; it was just supposed to taste gross. How was I to know you were such a lightweight? It wasn’t a big deal.” Her head swings back and forth with defiance.

  I'm pretty sure a shot of alcohol isn't supposed to make you hallucinate. ‘Liar’ is on my lips, as she continues.

  “Whatever, I’m trying to help you here...”

  “Don’t bother.” My tone is as frosty as an ice storm, “the last time you ‘helped me,’ I almost died.”

  Her lower lip trembles.

  I cast down my gaze.

  Chauncey stands, statuesque, her arms wrapped around her chest. The bandage covering her tattoo has peeled off at one corner. I stare at her inner wrist. Forgetting my next biting comment, I stretch for her bandage in alarm. “Chauncey, your tattoo.”

  Chauncey claps a hand over her wrist, obscuring it from my view.

  I step forward. “Chauncey, you need to go to a hospital; your tattoo, it must be infected.”

  Chauncey steps back, the crazed gleam surfacing again. She cradles her wrist, as if I might attack. “You’re so lucky, Raven!” She growls through her teeth, “I hate you!” Spinning on her heel, Chauncey escapes, with a trail of green chiffon, weaving like seaweed in her wake.

  I run to the staircase, as Chauncey’s golden curls disappear down and out of the foyer.

  I grip the railing.

  I don’t owe Chauncey anything. She’s been nothing but nasty to me. If I turn around and forget about her, it’s what she deserves. Cupping my hands around squeezed-shut eyes, I shake my head.

  Dropping my hands, I give one fleeting look over my shoulder, and then I run after Chauncey.

  She’s not in the courtyard, not out front or in the gardens. The valets don’t speak English. I huff and slam down one foot, earning a concerned look from the parking attendants.

  Giving a flat-handed wave, I turn back to the house; maybe she doubled back. I walk, hands clutching my crystal-embroidered sides. Catching my breath in this tight dress is difficult, to say the least.

  I weave through the courtyard, foyer, and party guests in the main hall and finally find Nicholas and Stephen. The men stand on the edge of the dance floor, laughing and drinking tumblers of an amber liquid. Still breathing heavily, I stop beside them.

  Nicholas wraps an arm around me in a gesture that seems automatic.

  “We need to find Chauncey,” I say, “I think she left.”

  Stephen furrows his brow and peers around. “Tobias left too, maybe Chauncey went with him.”

  Nicholas shakes his head. “She’ll be fine. Now, Stephen...”

  “I think we should leave.”

  Both the men turn to me, and then peer at each other. Nicholas cocks his head, “You want to leave already?”

  “I’m just worried.”

  “Hey, Raven,” Stephen extracts a phone from his pants’ pocket, “How about this? I’ll call Tobias and see if Chauncey’s with him. If she’s not, you can worry.” He pats me on the arm, “Have fun, enjoy yourself.” Cell phone in hand, he walks away.

  I stand on my tiptoes to examine the crowd. I spot Linnie c
hatting with Madeline, across the room, by a bar, laden with bottles of wine and glasses.

  Nicholas’s arm slips to my waist, “Do you want to dance?”

  I shake my head, while I peer at the joyous faces. I don’t recognize anyone.

  Stephen walks up to us, “She’s with Tobias.” Phone still to ear, he continues a conversation in Swedish, as he walks away.

  Nicholas pats my back. “Nothing to worry about; she’s fine. Now, how about...”

  Stephen rushes up and bends to Nicholas’s ear, whispering, “He knows.”

  Nicholas’s hand steers me toward the back of the main hall. “You’re right, Raven, we should go.”

  “Leave? But...” I stumble a few steps forward, “The exit is...” I look over my shoulder.

  Nicholas continues forward, as my heels root to the dance floor.

  Andras strides toward us, in an opening, through the crowd: the guests look as if they’re making way for him. He has that triumphant smile on his face again and he’s aiming it at Nicholas.

  Nicholas walks around to my other side and grips my hand. His hold is too tight and I start to shake him off, then stop, realizing the message I’ll send to both of them.

  Andras closes in, as Nicholas pleads, “Dance with me, please.”

  “Hello, Nicholas,” Andras’s accent is thicker than ever before and still hard to place. “I’m here to steal your date.” To me, “Can I have this dance?” He holds his arms out.

  “No.” Nicholas’s hand tightens, making me wince.

  “Hey!” A woman’s indignant voice squeaks from behind us: “You’re stepping on my dress.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Nicholas’s grip around my hand slackens and, in the same instant, Andras’s hands wrap around my waist; he scoops me up and sets me on the dance floor.

  He takes me in his arms and, before I can think, we’re waltzing. Unlike Nicholas, Andras does not lead me with his hands, he leads me with his hips. I’m quiet for a few seconds, while Andras twirls me to the sound of the string quartet, playing Metallica. Why didn’t I say anything during Andras’s and Nicholas’s confrontation? I just stood there like a breathless damsel.

  Andras dips me and I lean back, stiffly. He pulls me up and leads me backwards three paces with his nose, just brushing mine.

  “Andras,” I say, as I spin away from him, “What was that?”

  He twirls me into his arms and whispers, “What was what?”

  “With Nicholas...”

  He scoffs, “Nothing. I showed Nicholas how pathetic an obstacle he is.” Where did Andras learn English, the Shakespearean School of Seduction and Vengeance?

  My face is too close to Andras’s; I duck back an inch. “I know I’ve been giving you mixed messages, but whatever’s going on is between you and Nicholas. I don’t want to get in the middle of your fight or feud or rivalry or whatever with him.”

  He tightens the hand around my waist, regaining the inch. “What is going on has nothing to do with Nicholas. He and his brothers have proved themselves ineffectual and unimpressive. They made a feeble effort at going against me and they are out of their depth. Those brothers mean nothing to me; it’s you Raven, only you, that I care about.”

  I shouldn’t be relieved or pleased by this, but I can’t help myself. I stare into his amused eyes, glittering in the chandelier light, as he leads me into the middle of the turning, dancing crowd.

  “Monday at noon,” Andras whispers into my ear, “I will wait for you outside their gate.”

  “I won’t be there, Andras, I’m leaving.” I don’t know why, but saying this gives me a physical ache in my chest.

  Surprisingly, he grins. His cheek brushes mine, as he again bends to my ear. “I doubt you will.”

  I stop dancing and arch back to stare. “What does that mean?”

  He inclines his head and I follow his gesture to Nicholas and Stephen, who both unabashedly glare our way. I snap my gaze back to Andras’s half-grinning expression.

  “They...” He gestures again, “…will do everything in their power to make sure you stay.”

  I scrape my teeth on my lip, over and over again. We stand in the middle of the floor, as couples rotate around us.

  Two of his fingers raise my chin, while his thumb protects my lower lip from my teeth. “Raven, you are so full of worries. You deserve a few minutes to forget about your guilt and doubts. Nothing exists; there is only you and me, here, now.” His hand drops from my face to caress down my shoulder. He leans in. “For just this song, forget about everyone else, do what you want to do.”

  His hand travels from my shoulder, down my back and stops around my waist. He dips me low again and I let my head fall back.

  His splayed fingers run slowly from my chest to my neck and with his caress, the tension that had been restricting my breathing, loosens. I stretch my neck back, as his hand retraces its path. Right before his fingers touch the line of my dress, he snaps me up. The glares that were shooting icicles into my skin melt off. The dancers around us blur into swirling tornados of color, inconsequential, because nothing, no one else, matters. He’s spins, twirls, lifts and holds me tight. My breath comes faster, not from tension or conflict, but from exhilaration.

  We waltz faster and faster. In his arms, the excess of material around me poses no obstacle; he leads me as if I am an extension of himself.

  I can’t yank my attention from his face. In his eyes is the flame that threatens to consume the world. And why not be devoured by fire? This night is perfect for igniting. I want to be engulfed and dance in a blazing light.

  As the violin bows her last three notes, Andras lifts me off the ground. My lips want to connect with his so badly, they tingle...

  Nicholas’s blue eyes find me, over Andras’s shoulder, his wounded expression drenching me, like a bucket of frigid water.

  I slump in Andras’s grasp and give and infinitesimal shake of my head.

  Without a kiss, Andras sets me on the floor. His expression does not look annoyed or hurt by my rejection; his gaze flicking in Nicholas’s direction, a grin spreads across Andras’s face.

  A queasy sensation writhes in me.

  “Monday at noon,” Andras says, as he offers me his arm.

  I somehow have lost my will or need to correct him. Taking his arm, I let him lead me across the floor, directly to Nicholas. Nicholas does not meet my gaze; he offers his arm when Andras stops.

  There is no flicker or flame left. All I feel is shameful, embarrassed, wrong... as if I got caught cheating, though that’s ridiculous. I don’t want to watch and can’t look away from Andras’s ever-growing grin. I switch to Nicholas’s arm, touching him as little as possible.

  Andras caresses my cheek with the tips of his fingers.

  Body, please, just cringe away from his touch. My body doesn’t obey; my traitorous cheek leans toward his hand.

  “I appreciate,” Andras says to Nicholas, “You keeping this beautiful woman so safe … ”

  Nicholas’s whole face flinches.

  “…and protected, for me.” He taps my chin.

  Nicholas’s arm tightens around mine. He straightens his posture and says to Andras, “Not for you, from you. And don’t thank me, Andras; your appreciation is worth less than nothing. If you’ll excuse me and my date…” He turns to the door. “It’s too crowded in here.”

  I watch Nicholas from the corner of my eye, as we walk out. In the courtyard, his arm falls away. I have to quicken my steps to keep up with him. When we are outside of the complex, he gives a ticket to the valet and we stand alone and silent, waiting for our car.

  “I’m sorry.” I force myself to look at him. “I’m sorry, Nicholas.”

  With no hint of anger in the set of his face, the way he squeezes his eyelids shut makes him look miserable, which makes everything so much worse.

  “I don’t deserve your caring for me, Nicholas. Your family’s right, I’m not good enough for you, it’s good you see that now.”

  His eyes
snap open as he steps toward me. “What do you mean?” Indents pucker above each of his sandy blond eyebrows.

  I shake my head. “I don’t deserve...”

  He holds a hand up, “No, about my family?”

  “Your grandfather and Albert are right; you should choose someone better, someone sophisticated and elegant, and...”

  “You think my family doesn’t approve of you?” His brow furrows into deeper lines. “That’s why you danced with...”

  We both turn, as Linnie and Stephen’s singing echoes through the archway. The Rolls Royce drives up the driveway and stops.

  The tension around Nicholas’s eyes eases. “I hope you don’t mind, I traded cars with Tobias.”

  I nod, trying to suppress a sigh of relief. Thank the Heavens. No hour-long ride with only Nicholas and the pain I give him.

  Andras is wrong; nothing and nobody can stop me from leaving tomorrow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Day Twenty-One, Twenty-Two and Twenty-Three

  Linnie peers over the passenger seat as Stephen’s door closes. “When we get inside, you will tell me what that dance was about and who that man was.” We linger in the Rolls Royce as Nicholas and Stephen walk toward the main house.

  Nicholas sat sullenly most of the drive, but near the end he laughed at a joke Stephen told. He also gave me a kiss on the cheek before he exited the car.

  The chauffeur opens Linnie’s door. I don’t wait for him to come around; instead I climb out and close my door.

  As we walk to the guest house I pinch my lips together. Where should I start my explanation of Andras? How can I describe him without first revealing that I lied to her and second make him sound, I don't know… normal? Before Linnie went to college I never kept any secrets from her. But now - well, it's just not the same as…

  My ballet flats make a crunch, crunch, crunch sound on the ground. Linnie's hand grasps my shoulder stopping me. I look down, littered everywhere are tiny reflective shards of glass. Linnie points to a large gilded frame with only a tiny jagged piece of mirror remaining. I peer around, there's another smashed mirror down the hall.