Our Summer (The Season Of Us #1)

Chapter 1: Dance of Fate

Hundreds of various colors of fabric shimmered across the glorious ballroom. The heels tapped a steady rhythm over the marble floors, accompanying the soft melody of a violin. Chatter and laughter echoed all throughout the room. Gossip was being shared in every corner. Every noble of Cassvaria was present in the Holloway manor for the first grand ball of the summer.

As usual, the young lady, Giselle Holloway, was the center of attention. Every young lord seemed to want a dance with her and every young lady seemed to be envious of the girl's soft yellow gown adorned with pearls and lacy fabrics.

The girl's auburn locks glowed like embers against the gold-draped ballroom. She was a blazing, dancing sylph amid a sea of mere mortals.

One dance bled into another, her partners changing so quickly it made her head spin. She felt light-headed from all the excitement and she made sure to offer a smile to every possible suitor.

Though, that was utterly pointless. As always, no noble managed to hold the girl's attention for longer than a few moments. Not after him anyway. To Giselle it seemed like they lacked something and were only interested in her title. She knew her title would play a huge role once she had entered society and yet it still hurt being seen as Miss Holloway and not... Giselle.

As the final notes came to an end, the girl gracefully curtsied to the gentleman she had been dancing with and slipped away, determined to take a much needed break in the corners of the room. But just as she turned, she was met with a firm chest and a pair of strong hands reaching out to steady her.

"Please, excuse me, my lady," came a smooth voice. Giselle lifted her gaze, and her breath caught. Piercing blue eyes met hers, framed by sharp yet softened features. The dark curls that tumbled over the young gentleman's brow gave him the appearance of a prince stepped from a storybook and Giselle couldn't help but fascinated by the man.

Something flashed across his eyes and he quickly pulled Giselle towards himself.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice soft as silk.

"But, I—"

"One dance," he interrupted, his voice low, almost pleading, as he began to sway her with the new music. "Just one, and I'll be gone."

The girl hesitated for a moment, but soon relented, curiosity sparking in her chest. She enjoyed dancing and this young man was different—he intrigued her and though she wouldn't admit it aloud, she longed to know more.

"If you are trying to hide from someone, you chose the worst dance partner," Giselle told him.

He chuckled, his smile revealing a small dimple on his right cheek. "On the contrary, I am hoping to be seen, my lady."

"By whom?"

"My father. Lord Mortimer."

A sharp intake of breath burned her lungs, her feet faltering as if the very named had tripped her. She stumbled, but his grip was firm and steady, keeping her upright. "You— you're a Mortimer?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

"Samuel Mortimer, my lady." The gentleman nodded solemnly.

"I am a Holloway—"

"I am well aware, my lady," he said, his tone calm. "Our families have had their... differences. But as I mentioned, I need my father to see me. And you," he added with a small, crooked grin, "are the most enticing lady in the entire ballroom."

A frown tugged at Giselle's lips and she faltered, pulling back slightly. "So I'm a pawn, then? Someone you're using to play some games with your father?"

Samuel spun her out, his hand light and careful against hers. Then he pulled her right back into him with an elegant turn. "I'd never call you a pawn, my lady," he murmured, his eyes boring into hers. "But I need his attention and you certainly command it."