With her fingers laced lightly through his own, he was no more than two steps behind her as she led him onto the dance floor. Her lead, an open invitation which he readily accepted. The touch, though inviting, was indicative of---What was it? He wondered. His fingers danced across her palm, searching for an answer. The pressure of her hand on his, still delicate, was now sightly possessive. As he drew her to him, he saw forgiveness alight in her eyes. As they swayed into a rhythm that was theirs alone, her brown eyes darkened; a silent rendering of romance anew.