When Caspian drew back from the kiss, Perdita’s breath came in quick, uneven bursts. “Dance with me,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers as a slow melody began to play.

“I thought you didn’t know how to dance,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t.” He grinned. “Two left feet, remember? But I’m willing to risk public embarrassment if it means holding you close.”

“Is your photographer recording audio along with taking ...