What Comes of Attending the Commoners Ball

by Elisabeth Aimee Brown

His touch is both strong and gentle. Warmth sparkles up my arm and lodges itself firmly in my heart. Wonderful. Now I can never wash this hand again.

Lucas bends to help, fingers grazing mine as we reach for the same one. Well, there goes that hand too.

I pat his arm—I pat his arm!—why am I patting the prince’s arm?—and say, “I understand if it is a terrible shock.”