The man was so close now that she could feel the soft puff of his breath upon her face when he spoke, and without a thought she inhaled deeply; it was faintly scented with the fruitwine they'd both been drinking. Perhaps it was the wine that was making her feel so odd. Perhaps.<br/><br/>"I'd be delighted to dance with you in the moonlight, milord," she murmured, the closeness enough that the quiet words were still heard. And with a lift of her hand overturning to lace her gloved fingers into his, and her other hand drifting up to curl atop his shoulder, the untoward nearness was turned into something perfectly acceptable, as their stance shifted from too intimate to dancing posture.<br/><br/>The music seemed almost to waft out to them, and she thought of her many lessons, listening to the lilt and beat of it and inhaling, exhaling to try and take the rhythm of it into herself, ready to follow his lead.