Free The Changeling Bride by Lisa Cach

throbbing against the timpani of her ears.
    She turned to him, and he took her hand before she could muster a response. She let him lead her out onto the floor, too flustered to think straight. He took the end of Tatiana’s sash from her hand, giving it into the care of a man who stood at the edge of the floor. It was as he took his position, other couples lining up behind them, that Elle belatedly realized her folly.
    The orchestra was not going to belt out some pop Madonna tune, and the guests were not going to dance however they pleased. They weren’t even going to waltz or do a simple foxtrot. This was going to be a dance with complicated rules, and whatever they were, she didn’t know them.
    Her stomach twisted, and fresh sweat broke out under her arms, adding to that which the room of candles and overdressed bodies had already created with their heat. She felt a fine rivulet creep down her scalp under the wig and trace a path down her forehead. She was suddenly nauseated by the heat, the odor of so many bodies, and the knowledge of the humiliation that was about to come.
    Lord Allsbrook gently squeezed her fingers in his gloved hand, and glancing up at him, she saw him raise his eyebrows expectantly. She twisted her head to see the women behind her and tried to mimic their positions beside their partners. Perhaps she could fake her way through this.
    There came a brief hush, the music started, and Elle closed her eyes in a brief prayer that the dancing gods were feeling merciful tonight.
    She let Lord Allsbrook lead her forward, then when he stepped away craned her head to watch the woman behind her. She twisted from side to side as the dancers’ positions changed, her feet fumbling along a half beat behind everyone else’s.
    The dance increased in its complexity, and she becamemore and more lost, making little running steps under cover of her skirts to put herself in the right position, too busy concentrating on where everyone was to even look up at her partner. More than anything she wanted to walk off the dance floor and escape this spectacle she was making of herself, but she couldn’t. She was the bride, and this was her first dance with her husband. Her chest was tight with unshed tears of frustration, but she wouldn’t quit.
    She clenched her jaw and sniffed back the threatening tears, determined to complete the dance, however badly. Her world narrowed to her own feet and the woman who danced beside her. Her lips set in a grim line, she plodded her way back and forth and around, until with a final flourish the music ended, and Lord Allsbrook led her from the floor.
    Once they had broken through the edge of the crowd he grabbed her arm pulled her with more force than necessary into an alcove. His face was flushed, his jaw tensed, but as she gaped up at him she saw his features smooth out, as if he were deliberately hiding his anger from her view.
    “I know you have had dancing lessons,” he said in a low voice. “I can only presume that you are attempting to punish me in some childish manner for this marriage. You are an adult now, Eleanor, and it is time you took on adult responsibilities. Your behavior today has shamed your family and has shamed yourself.”
    The unfairness of his accusation made Elle’s face flush in an anger she, for one, was not about to hide. It drowned her embarrassment in a cleansing wash of fury. “You, dear husband, have all the sensitivity of an ice cube,” she hissed. “You have no idea what I’ve been through today, and frankly, I doubt you could understand even if I spelled it out for you in three-foot capital letters. God help me, my palm is itching to smack that cool look right off your face.”
    “I doubt God’s going to be much help to you with that. He was the one who blessed our union today.”
    She broke away from him, too angry to bear his presence. She found Tatiana, snatched the leash from the man’s hand, and wove her way to the French doors that led out