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Dinner lasted far longer than your average ham-and-egg-pie meal, for there were stories to tell of the day, tales of long-ago childish adventures and secrets to share. The teapot sat on the table, empty and cold, and all but the last crumbs of pudding were gone.

“I doubt even the Ritz could pull off such a meal,” Patrick leant back in his chair, his stomach full and his heart content.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t even try, Patrick.” She smiled warmly and placed her hand across his forearm. “Tonight has been lovely. I would have been nervous and anxious the whole time at such a grand establishment. Instead, I’m warm and happy.”

His hand resting on hers, he squeezed gently. “I’m glad.”

The record player reached the end of its task, and the sound of the scratching needle filled the room.

Patrick stood. “Funny, I don’t think I heard the music all night. I’ll put another on.”

Shelagh made to stand as well. “I’ll start on the dishes, then.”

“No, you most certainly will not. We’ve not finished our date. I’ll handle this later.” He nodded. “Stay right as you are.”

In the work of a moment, Patrick slipped another record from its cover and set the needle. He turned back to the table and was struck by the sight of her in candlelight, her hair and skin glowing. Shelagh had closed her eyes to better concentrate on the music, her chin slightly raised, revealing the length of her neck.

Unobserved, he gazed his fill. Shelagh’s beauty was such a quiet part of her. Her natural modesty, combined with the strict teachings of the Sisterhood, made her unaware of her effect on those who looked at her. Soon after meeting her, though, her external beauty drew less attention and instead he focussed only on her goodness and clever mind. Then, at unexpected moments, her physical loveliness would shine and he was undone.

He moved to stand behind her, his hands light on her shoulders, thumbs stroking gently over the porcelain skin of her shoulders. At the base of her neck, he could see for the first time a small freckle and felt a great longing to press a kiss to it.  Sighing lightly, he restrained himself. Little steps, he repeated to himself as he made a promise for the future.

Resolved, he stepped in front of her, his hand extended.

“May I have this dance?”

Shelagh’s eyes widened and her face lost its relaxed expression. Shaking her head, she answered, “Oh, no. I-I don’t dance, Patrick. I’d like to, but I don’t know how. I’m afraid I’ll step all over your shoes.”

Not taking no for an answer, Patrick tugged at her hand, pulling her to stand before him. “I doubt you’d do much damage with those tiny feet of yours.”

“You’d be surprised.” Shelagh’s voice was nervous and her eyes would not meet his. “Please, Patrick, I can’t. I’ve never even tried.”

“I’m sure you can. Timothy told me you can do a reel!”

“Oh, a Scottish reel in a barn is quite another thing! I wouldn’t know where to begin on a dance floor.”

Oddly, the more nervous she became, the more Patrick’s confidence grew. One hand slipped around her waist as the other held her hand up. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll find a way.”

Ella Fitzgerald’s voice softly filled the room as the long introduction to the music wound down. “We’ll start slow. It’s a simple two-step. Our feet make the pattern, and my hand will guide you.”

“Guide me?” Bossy Shelagh made her first appearance of the night.

“For turns and such.” He pulled back, stretching out his arms to create more space between them. “Watch my feet, then mirror my steps.”

Shelagh concentrated on his feet and moved her own a bit awkwardly. After a few measures, she found the rhythm. Shelagh looked up, her face beaming. “It’s simple!”

Patrick laughed. “Told you so, Ginger. Now, try it without looking at your feet.”

Pressing her lips together, Shelagh stared hard at his face. She stumbled for a moment.

“That’s alright,” he encouraged. “Keep going.”

Gradually, she grew more confident. “Are we…supposed to…stand like this?” She gestured to their outstretched hands as she timed her words with the music.

“So now you’re the teacher?” he teased.

“Patrick,” she chided.

“Shelagh,” was his response. He winked and resumed, “Now we move closer.” Slowly, he decreased the distance between them. Immediately, Shelagh grew less certain.

In the early days of their courtship, Patrick made sure to treat Shelagh gallantly. He realized that the little she knew of romantic love came from stories and film. The reality of passion might have worried  her. In the days leading to Christmas, he thought he had seen a certain recognition of the reality, but Timothy’s illness had pushed all such thoughts to the side, and Patrick realized he would require more patience. “Room for the Holy Spirit?” he asked, his tone light.

The song ended, and they waited in the quiet for the next to begin. “This time, let’s try to add something else,” Patrick suggested.

The crease reappeared between her brows. He gently rubbed his thumb over it, soothing, “Just a few turns, sweetheart. My hand at your waist will hold you near, whilst this one,” he raised their joint hands, “will lead you in turns. You’ll feel me pull one way or another, and our feet will follow the direction.” He demonstrated a few turns, and quickly Shelagh caught on. They began to circle around the small space.

“What if I want to lead?” she asked as the next song began.

Patrick laughed aloud. “I’m sure you will.” She was much closer now. How had that happened, he wondered. He had concentrated so hard on keeping a safe distance—

Shelagh glanced up and he caught a gleam in her eye. His own widened as he realized he was no longer as in control of this dance as he thought. Patrick swallowed thickly.

Still not touching, their bodies hovered close to each other. This was bliss. He closed his eyes  to the sight of her neck so close and steeled himself against the urge to pull her tight against his body. Not for the first time tonight, he whispered, “This is much better than a night out.”

Shelagh made a small sound of agreement, then closed the last remaining gap between them. With a small sigh, she pressed her forehead against his cheek. Patrick pulled her hand to his heart, and for the length of a song, neither moved.

Regaining his composure, Patrick pulled away. Gently, he reached up towards her glasses and asked, “May I?”

Shelagh nodded. He slid the frames from her face, folded them and deftly slipped them into his jacket pocket. A contented smile crossed her face. “That’s better,” she whispered as she nuzzled her smooth skin against his rough cheeks.

Patrick felt his body stir as it responded to the huskiness in her voice. An electric charge ran through him as she placed her hand back upon his shoulder, and he clenched his own tightly over her small fingers.

“Shelagh,” he warned gently.

“Patrick,” she answered. She was teasing him!

Her body pressed lightly against his and her face lifted. “I love you, Patrick.”

There was little time to respond to her words. Swiftly, she pulled his face towards hers for a kiss. She was clumsily ardent, her lips firm against his. Long moments went by, and finally a stunned Patrick responded.

His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her tightly to his form. But just as his arms grew more forceful, his lips softened. He would let her lead, but he could help her find her way.

That slight change must have relaxed her, for her lips softened, as well. She turned her head slightly, finding a new, more comfortable angle to increase the contact between them. Softly, she released his lips from the pressure, a small sigh shuddering across her lips.

He thought she would stop, that she was satisfied with her attentions for now. He watched as her eyes fluttered open and smiled. With time, Shelagh would learn this new side to love. He would have to be certain he did not take her for granted. They would spend time alone, just the two of them, so that by the time they did marry, Shelagh would be ready.

Her eyes never fully opened, and he was surprised by her lips gently kissing at his, small, tender kisses that made it hard to breath. His smile parted slightly and she kissed his lower lip. Her own lips opened slightly, and with a quiet whimper she touched his mouth with her tongue.

It was agony. Shelagh wanted him, he could feel it. Her kisses grew more intimate, her arms tightening around his neck. She had always been a quick study, and once a decision was made, she gave it her all.

No longer able to stand by, Patrick returned her kiss with fervour. The soft nap of her velvet dress inflamed him and made him long for the smoothness of her skin underneath. His deep breaths brought her deep into his lungs, surrounding him on all sides.

“Shelagh,” he murmured. He buried his face in her neck as they both struggled for breath. “I have to stop.”

Shelagh nodded, her fingers still tangled in his hair. Patrick looked up and saw her face flushed with desire. How was he expected to let her go home tonight, he wondered. She fit so perfectly in his arms, more perfectly than even in his dreams. She smiled at him, and there was a new knowledge in her eyes.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. He grimaced, uncomfortable with the blasphemy in front of her.

A giggle rose from Shelagh’s throat and she kissed his temple lightly. The passion cooled and they stepped apart.

Patrick replaced her glasses and took her hand. “Let’s get you home. Mrs Trevell will be waiting behind the net curtains for you, and if I don’t get you in soon, we’ll never get that key again.”

In the hallway, Patrick stooped to pick up his old and battered  coat, forgotten in their earlier embrace. He placed it on its hook and felt Shelagh move closer to him. Her hand slid around his arm and she found her place at his side.

“Tonight has been wonderful, Patrick. Thank you.”

He kissed the top of her head. “We’ll do this more often, Shelagh.” He turned her to face him. “I want to be with you.”

Her face pinkened. Cupping her cheek, he assured her. “Not simply in that way. I want to talk with you, spend time with you. Before…before Christmas, we were so busy finding our footing, and then, later, Tim was our focus. From now on, we’ll make time for us as well.”

Shelagh nodded her understanding. She closed her eyes for a moment and tilted her cheek to his hand. “The kissing is nice, too, dearest.”

Poor Patrick.

This wedding could not come soon enough.

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