Chapter 4 A compliment forgotten

"May I have this dance?" she looked up with a sly smile on her smooth white face.

Ron blinked more than he could count and swallowed hard. He looked around the ballroom to find the men walking up to the ladies. Others were already dancing while some stood shyly at the sidelines; looking around and trying hard to get comfortable.

Yellow, on the other hand, had her head held high and an arm around her waist as she and her partner danced to the slow soft music in the air.

And here he was, saving his first dance to make up for his barbaric actions. What in the world!

Ron couldn't possibly fathom what had gotten over him when he did that.

Before the ball, he had made up his mind to adhere to his father's wish.

Find the one.

But here he stood, making trouble and now he had an enemy.

Ron bowed before the lady in a Honey dress and took hold of her gloved hands, leading her to the dance floor.

They stood in front of each other and she curtsied before he took the first step, walking up and taking her hand.

He placed a hand over the smooth cloth of her waist. Gulping, he looked straight at her, due to her height. She wasn't short like he admired but her height was admirable.

She had the darkest shades of black for eyes and her lips were drowning in the deepest of red.

Ron looked away as he clenched down on his jaw, obviously pissed at himself.

He had promised himself he'd give Yellow his first dance to make it up to her.

But you surely can't beat yourself up because you tried to dance with her-

Did he though? Had he really tried it or just welcomed rejection, seeing it as a sign of relief.

Ron, however, begged to disagree.

You didn't even know what to say to her. Would you have gone with, "I sincerely apologise so dance with me." and given how shocked and withdrawn she was, she would've said "no." what say you to that, then?

Ron drew in a deep breath.

As much as he wanted to be crossed at her for ignoring him, he couldn't. He surely would have done something other than watch her leave with another man.

"Your Grace, it would be of great honour to have this dance." He played her words back.

Such boldness in her voice, such confidence. She did not stutter, neither did her voice go low.

She had said those words with her head held high, acting as if it was her speciality.

He had mistaken her for a woman worthy to become a Queen.

Queens don't walk up to-Men do the walking up to. They take charge.

Surely, he had been deceived by her perfect posture and the graceful aura she-

"Ahem,"

Ron blinked at the masked lady he'd been dancing with for minutes now.

Her lips spread into a full wide grin and her black orbs gazed at him with amusement.

Now here he was, acting like a pig! What was he thinking! Ignoring a graceful young woman.

"I-"

"If I may, my Lord?" she cut him dead in his sentence with a polite girly voice

Ron pursed his lips as his heart beat sped up. He tore his gaze from her intense ones and chose to focus on something else.

Like the gold floor, for example.

Splendid.

Anything to keep his mind at ease.

He didn't know much about women but from what he had heard, they were great argumentative-if that was even a word-and their gender was known for asking heart-numbing questions.

Keep it together, you fool! You make a fool of yourself and you'll be single for twenty years to come-

"How does this work?"

He slowly titled his chin to look at her. She had a shy smile on her lips and her black orbs couldn't hold his gaze for seconds without breaking.

"What do you mean?" he asked in a low tone.

"I have never been to a masquerade ball in all my years." she said, quite embarrassed.

Ron tore his gaze from her only to steal glances at Yellow once more.

Yellow twirled and turned. She blinked at him. Their gaze met but only for a brief moment before she looked away like she couldn't bear the sight.

Her dance partner spun her around to face him. His hands went to the small of her waist as he hoisted her up–just a few centimetres in the air, nothing grand–in the heat of their dance.

With her hands on his shoulders, she followed his movement. No objection on her part.

Perhaps, anything to please her partner.

If she enjoyed the dance, Ron couldn't tell-

"Ahem,"

His eyes widened and he turned his attention back to his partner, "I apologise. I was only wondering how a graceful young lady like yourself has never been to a masquerade ball."

When her cheeks puffed up in a smile, Ron thought of what more to say.

"This is also my first masquerade ball." her eyes widened and her mouth formed an 'O'.

Scared that she might walk off because he had no experience, Ron quickly added, "But believe me when I say that I know a lot about them."

Do you?

"You do?"

"No," the interest in her eyes died once more. "I mean not personally but I have read lots of books about masquerade balls and they seem to be...adventurous." he ended with a smile on his lips and heart in his hand.

Her silence only made his anxiety worse as he thought of what she could say.

Liar? Perhaps-

"Adventurous," she tasted the word as she looked past him. "What, pray tell, is adventurous about people behind a mask?" she looked at him from under her lashes. This time when she spoke, her voice wasn't small with shyness but inquisitive and bold, just like when she walked up to him and asked him out to dance.

Ron pursed his lips as he thought. Tension eased out from his shoulders as he started to relax a little.

"Well, no one ever knows who is behind a mask. You get to meet people and not be carried away by their physical appearance," he shrugged.

"That is exactly why I don't like it." she frowned. "Because it's like putting strangers behind a mask and telling me to talk to them. Where I'm from, you don't talk to strangers."

Ron shivered under the intensity of her gaze but still didn't fail to see her point.

She looked away and he was finally able to draw in a breath.

Such scary creatures!

"I see your point. But don't you think that to be a little extreme." he quickly explained. "I mean, strangers can become friends. Not talking to them is a bit of a sign of," he thought of a nicer word, "Trust issues"-her head whipped and shock waltzed into her gaze.

"Trust issues, my Lord?" she huffed. "Sadly, it is what it is and it can't be helped. You don't trust strangers. Trust shouldn't be given but earned, in my opinion. And as long as you two are still strangers, then my Lord, it is what it is."

Ron clamped his mouth shut as he pondered on it.

"I guess you're right." he had to admit. "Permit to believe that your inexperience on masquerade balls is by choice?"

She gave a silent nod, "Correct."

Ron swayed in a gentle manner as he looked around. Most people who were dancing were already talking. He noticed some with huge smiles on their faces.

The air in the room was not in the least awkward.

Some had relaxed and gotten used to it while others were still in their shell.

"My Lord,"

Ron turned to Honey. She had her lips turned down in a frown and from the look in her eyes, he could tell it was one of confusion.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but don't you think it's past time you compliment my dress and my hair?"

Damnation!