“From tonight on, we should speak French whenever we’re alone. They will give us new names, but I shall make a habit of calling you mon ange, to make it easier. Have you come up with a new pet name for me?” He lifted a brow. “I hope I’m no longer The Disappointment.”
“Certainly not.” Tilting her head to give him an assessing look, she ran through possible endearments in her mind… mon coeur, mon amour, mon cher.
“Ma moitié,” she decided. “My half. Because when you left, my heart was ripped right down the middle. And when you came back, you made my joy complete.” Her voice broke a little, and her gaze fell to the snowy drifts of his cravat. “Christian, I… I wouldn’t know how to live without you.”
He stopped dancing and slid both hands to her face, tilting her gaze to his. His eyes were solemn and ardent. “You will never need to learn.”
All onlookers were forgotten. The ballroom ceased to exist. They closed the distance between them, each leaning forward by slow degrees…until their lips met in the middle.
Two halves of one perfect, passionate kiss.