Kate Hardy - If The Ring Fits...

They lingered until the piece ended, enjoying the music. And then the quartet started playing ‘The Blue Danube’.

A waltz.

Liam glanced at Polly. Dancing in public would mean that she’d have to fake it. And that would make sure the physical awkwardness between them was gone before they went back to training. ‘Recognise the tempo?’

Her eyes went wide as she guessed what he meant. ‘We can’t.’

‘Sure we can. It’s Vienna. People expect it.’

‘But … ‘

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the steps again?’

She lifted her chin. ‘I have not .’

‘Dare you.’

She held his gaze, and he knew she’d guessed he was calling her on something else. Then she nodded. ‘You’re on.’

Two seconds later, they were in hold and were waltzing along the wide street. Polly didn’t miss a step, to his relief, doing the turns perfectly and keeping in time with the quartet. The tourists who’d stopped to listen to the music moved back slightly, giving them space to dance.

Everything faded for him except Polly and the music. Dancing to the slow, regular beat of the old tune. The rise and fall of their steps. Whirling her round, his leg sliding between hers and hers between his as they turned. Just like last night in the candlelit ballroom, when she’d looked up at him, those gorgeous brown eyes huge, and he’d dipped his head to kiss her.

It was too much for him to resist. He lowered his mouth to hers, his body on automatic pilot as he led her through the steps. His mouth was tingling where his lips touched hers—and then she kissed him back, her mouth sweet and responsive, making him feel as if they were dancing on air instead of in a wide, bustling boulevard.

It was a while before Liam realised that the music had stopped and people were clapping.

And he was still kissing Polly. Dancing to music that existed entirely in his head.

He slowed his steps to a halt and pulled back, noting the glitter in Polly’s eyes and the hectic flush on her cheeks.

‘Sorry,’ he mouthed. Even though he wasn’t.

‘Bravo,’ one of the onlookers called.

What else could he do but brazen it out? He bowed, and stood back as Polly dipped into a curtsey.

Dancing, he thought, could fix almost anything.

Except Polly’s reservations. Because as soon as she stood straight again, all her barriers were back in place. Her eyes were filled with panic. And he didn’t have a clue how to reassure her, because he was in exactly the same state.

They checked out of the hotel and took the train back to the airport to catch their flight. She was quiet all the way home, clearly brooding, and Liam had no idea how to reach her. All he could do, back in London, was to insist on seeing her home, right to her front door.

‘Thank you. I didn’t think I’d ever get the waltz. And what you did, setting up the ballroom like that … that was special.’

‘Pleasure.’

She looked at him. ‘I owe you an explanation. About …’ She glanced down at her wrists.

Was that what she’d been worrying about, rather than the growing physical and emotional awareness between them? ‘It’s OK. You don’t owe me anything.’

‘Do you want to come in, um, for a glass of wine?’

He had a feeling that this was Polly’s way of telling him she was ready to talk. And maybe what had happened with her wrists was the key to whatever was holding her back. Maybe if he understood that, he could make some sense of this whole thing between them. ‘OK. That’d be good,’ he said lightly.

She let them into her flat, dropped her bag in the hallway, ushered him into the kitchen and poured them both a glass of wine. Then she took a deep breath. ‘Those scars are because I cut my wrists when I was fifteen.’ She looked away. ‘God, even saying it aloud makes me feel so ashamed.’

He’d already worked that out for himself, because she couldn’t look him in the eye.

‘I don’t know how close you are to your family,’ she said.

‘On and off,’ he admitted. ‘They’d all rather I had what they call a sensible job, and they drove me crazy after the accident because they thought it was their chance to get me back on the straight and narrow. But they’ve come to accept that dancing’s a big part of who I am—the better part. Although they’re still not wonderfully happy about it, they’re finally off my case about my job.’

That made her meet his eyes again. She looked shocked. ‘But aren’t they proud of you? Of all you’ve achieved, of the way you’ve made millions of people see beauty—the stuff you’ve choreographed for other people to dance, as well as the stuff you dance yourself?’

‘In their own way, I suppose they are. And I guess it could’ve been worse. I don’t think my dad could’ve handled it if I’d wanted to dance ballet. Billy Elliott, eat your heart out. Though I’m just as bad. I pushed everyone away after the accident.’ He paused. ‘So is this your way of saying you’re not close to your family?’

‘I’m an only child,’ she said. ‘Maybe it would’ve been easier if I’d had a brother or a sister. But I think I was probably a mistake. My parents …’ She sighed. ‘Let’s just say they’re not the greatest of role models. And I don’t think they should ever have had children. When I was young, Mum was always leaving Dad because he was having an affair, and getting her own place for a while. She’d take me with her. I’d just get used to the new place, and then they’d make it up and she’d move back in with him.’

So Polly had never known any real stability, Liam thought. No wonder she was worried about getting involved with him. When his career took off again, he could end up taking a show round the world. Given what she’d said about her past, he knew she’d hate that kind of upheaval.

‘It got worse when I was a teenager. Mum started having affairs to get back at Dad. The house was always full of fights and slamming doors. And they both yelled at me because I was so clumsy, always dropping things.’

And he’d just bet Polly grew clumsier every time she got stressed, making it a vicious circle. No wonder she’d said that she never screamed. She’d had more than enough of it when she was growing up. ‘You were a kid. It wasn’t fair to yell at you.’

‘I guess it made a change from yelling at each other.’ She bit her lip. ‘I hated living in chaos all the time. My teachers started asking me why my grades were dropping, and I was too ashamed to tell them it was because I couldn’t concentrate. About how bad it was at home.’ She swallowed. ‘I asked Fliss’s parents—my best friend’s—if I could stay with them. Fliss had told them what was going on, and they said yes. I went home to pack. I was going to leave my parents a note to tell them where I was, but they found me packing. And they were so angry with me. They said I couldn’t be friends with Fliss any more.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘I talked to Fliss at school, because they couldn’t stop me, but I wasn’t allowed to see her outside. And there was still all the shouting and the slamming doors and the leaving and the moving back in.’

Liam’s heart ached for her. No wonder she’d done something so desperate. She must’ve been so unhappy. Sure, there had been rows at home—mostly over his choice of career—but he’d grown up knowing he was loved.

‘In the end, I failed my mock exams. And I’d just had enough. I wanted out. I didn’t know who to talk to, who could help me. So I … cut my wrists.’ She swallowed hard. ‘It was a cry for help. And I’m ashamed of it now.’

Even though part of him was yelling a reminder that he needed to keep himself separate, to keep his heart safe, right now Polly’s need for comfort was greater. He couldn’t stay away any more. ‘Pol. I know we’re not—well, together. But I can’t just sit here and watch you rip your heart out like this. You need someone to hold you. And I’m here.’ He stood up and went round to her side of the kitchen table, scooped her out of her chair, sat in her place and settled her on his lap, wrapping his arms round her.