“You,” Rob said, his heart beating like a jackhammer.

“Me,” Maggie said as she reached up to fuss with the opaque veil that covered her red hair. The fabric was damp in places, as if she’d washed in a rush but hadn’t had time to fully dry. 

Her dress wasn’t quite long enough to keep her boots from poking conspicuously from beneath the hem, and Maggie’s wrists pushed forth a good three inches beyond the cuff.

Maggie tugged at her veil again, ignoring the disdainful looks from the better-dressed ball goers. “Sorry. Not used to this thing.”

Slowly gathering his wits, Rob shook his head in amazement. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

“Your cousin ran all over town looking for me,” Maggie said as she hauled Zev to his feet. “When he finally found me, he couldn’t talk he was so out of breath.”

“But then I talked,” Zev said.

“He did,” Maggie said. “He talked about how you’d tried to find me after our fight. He talked about how you hadn’t taken another woman, despite plenty of opportunity. He talked about how stubborn you are and how much this town would miss you if you had to leave. How much I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you, too,” Rob said without even having to think.

“Don’t worry, I told her that,” Zev chipped in.

Rob shushed his cousin. “Zev. Not now.”

“I wasn’t sure I wanted to see you tonight,” Maggie said. “I’m sorry, Robert, but that’s the truth. Maybe because things moved so fast, but I still feel like you betrayed me. It hurt. It made me scared that I might lose you to someone else, and it made me mad that I hurt like that.”

“I made a huge mistake,” Rob said. “I should have told you everything from the start, about the Godmother and . . . well, all the rest.”

Maggie nodded. “So even though I was upset, even though I didn’t want to see you, I also didn’t want to not see you. If that makes sense.”

“Totally.”

“I’m not sure what I would have decided on my own, but your cousin wouldn’t leave me alone. In part to shut him up, I went along to the Tailor’s, where I was given the use of a washbasin and an unclaimed ball gown. With some quick adjustments and deep breaths, we made it fit.” Maggie glanced down at herself with a frown. “Mostly.”

“You look—” Rob said, but then stopped, unsure how to finish. Lovely? Beautiful? Both were true, but only because he knew Maggie well enough to not care about her ill-fitting clothes paired with muddy riding boots. But just as Rob finished with “—perfect,” the Princess burst onto the scene.

Without hesitating, she grabbed Zev’s arm. “If you’ll excuse us, doctor, I need our tardy friend. And my dear Magda, that outfit brings out your charms in ways I hadn’t begun to imagine. Truly inspired! Enjoy the ball, and don’t miss the refreshment tables.”

Maggie stared grimly after Cynda until the crowd of dancers closed in her wake. “I may actually kill her one day.”

“Please don’t,” Rob said. “At least not tonight, in front of so many witnesses. Do you think Zev needs rescuing?”

“That may be beyond us. Wait, he’s fine. I can see them arguing.”

Rob stood on his toes to peer over the tall hats.“I wouldn’t want to be Zev right now. He’s really getting the business. Still smiling, though.”

“He does that a lot.” Suddenly, Maggie turned on an older couple who were starting at her. “What? Do we have a problem?”

The couple was saved from a potential physical encounter when Zev rushed by, grinning maniacally and with Cynda hot on his sweaty heels.

“What are we doing, Maggie?” Rob asked, ignoring his cousin’s antics. “We don’t belong here.”

“I don’t belong here,” she said. “But I saw you chatting with the Chancellor and Wilhelm and the others, and I saw how Greta was acting around you.”

“Maggie—”

“Can I tell you something? I’d die before admitting this to anyone else, but I wish I could pass here. Oh, maybe with better clothes and more than an hour’s warning I’d do a better job of fitting in, but then I’d drink the wrong wine, or dance with my left foot instead of my right, or deck the Princess instead of curtseying properly. Even with practice, I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough.”

“I think a lot of people feel that way,” Rob said. “You’re just the only one brave enough to admit it.”

Zev rushed back through the crowd, dragging Greta behind him. A screeching Cynda trailed them both, and Rob observed that people wasted no time getting the heck out of their way.

Maggie idly watched them bowl over the couple she’d snapped at a few moments earlier. “So. This thing about you having to get married.”

“Forget it. I’m not letting the Godmother run my life.”

“I’m just not ready for that, do you understand? Especially not tonight.”

“It’s too soon. I get it. Maybe someday, though? But on our own terms.”

Maggie took a moment to weigh his words before shrugging her powerful shoulders, a gesture that tested the strength of her gown. “Maybe someday.”

Rob took her hands in his own. Not too far away, Zev and his band were loudly setting up their instruments. Cynda stood on one side of Zev, screaming in his ear, while Greta fidgeted on the other, attempting to hand back a pair of tambourines.

“Insane,” Rob said.

“Which one? Your cousin or the slut-whore?”

“Ah . . . both, now that I think about it.”

“Robert,” Maggie said. “You understand it’s never going to be easy with me.”

“That’s okay,” Rob said. “High maintenance girls are sort of my niche.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Even if you get banished?”

“Fuck it. I want to be with you, Maggie. That’s all I care about right now.”

At which point Maggie pulled Rob to her and kissed him hard on the lips. There was no tongue, no sensuality, just a lot of pressure, and Rob stood his ground while pressing back as best he could. 

When it was done, Rob watched Maggie’s mouth curl into a shy, satisfied smile, as if he’d passed some sort of test.

“I don’t know how long I can stay in these clothes,” she told him quietly. “Shall we go somewhere and make up? I’ve been staying out at my Gran’s old cabin, but your place is a lot closer.”

Before Rob could respond, Zev’s voice cut through the ballroom chatter with a booming “ONE-TWO-THREE-GO” as his band began their first song. Zev strummed an oversized lute slung low on his hips, while a drummer attacked his kit with wild abandon. 

Another lute player stood behind Zev, anxiously trying to keep up with the beat, while Greta—Greta!—gamely rapped tambourines against her hips. She made sure to broadcast a bored, let’s-get-this-over-with expression, but even so she swayed her hips to the music and seemed to enjoy the room’s attention.

Maggie touched Rob’s arm. “Perhaps this is our exit.”

“Yeah.” Rob bit his lip. “But I feel bad for yelling at Zev. Maybe we could stay for at least one song.”

“If you think it’s important,” Maggie said. “Though this isn’t like any song I’ve ever heard.”

As if agreeing with Maggie’s assessment, the circle of dancers began to fracture, breaking off in clumps to watch, unbelieving, as Zev and his band continued to play.

“This sounds familiar,” Rob said. “It’s a cover of something. Right on the tip of my tongue . . . American Girl by Tom Petty. Or at least a poor approximation of it.”

“This song is popular where you come from?” Maggie asked.

“Maybe you’ll hear the real version someday. Until then . . . Maggie, would you like to dance with me?”

“Dance?”

“As people keep reminding me, this is the Harvest Ball.”

Maggie frowned. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on. One dance. Nobody’ll pay any attention to us.”

“I don’t care whether people look or not,” she said unconvincingly.

“Then let’s do it. To help out Zev. Everyone else has stopped dancing, but maybe if we start, they’ll come back.” Rob held out his hand. “What do you say? Trust me?”

Stone-faced, Maggie took Rob’s hand. “Apparently your cousin isn’t the only one who can talk girls into doing things against their better judgement.”

Rob laughed, pulling Maggie close. “Thank goodness for that. Tell me if I stomp on your feet.”

“Oh, you’ll know, all right.”

Rob and Maggie began to dance. It took them a while to fall into sync; while Rob knew the song, the band changed time signatures unexpectedly, and Maggie appeared completely befuddled. Soon, Rob took Maggie’s hands and led her through a series of simple, jitterbuggy-type moves that carried them to the final lute solo.

During the song, Rob realized that he’d been wrong about two things. One, nobody else had joined them in dancing, and two, no shortage of onlookers paid them notice. 

As Zev windmilled away on his instrument, finishing the song with as much enthusiasm as he’d begun it, Rob and Maggie stumbled to a halt, nervously giggling at themselves while holding their hot, sweaty bodies tight against each another.

“Everyone’s looking,” Maggie whispered.

“I know.”

“Can we please leave now?”

Zev began to make a loud show of smashing the band’s instruments, creating a welcome distraction. “Absolutely,” Rob said over the discordant sounds of breaking wood, popping strings and crunching bells. “Let’s go.”

Just outside the ballroom door, they paused to fan themselves in the noticeably cooler air.

“Whew,” Rob said. “We escaped!”

“Almost, children,” said the Fair Godmother, who’d slipped through the door behind them. “Almost.”