“Miss Kent?” Damon offered me his arm.
I tentatively took it, and we walked through the crush of people toward the dance floor. “You should not have asked me to dance,” I whispered.
“One set is not a sin, Miss Kent.”
“Then why does it feel like it?”
We formed a square with three other couples. We were thankfully in a different group than Ollie and Amelia; I did not think I could dance with Damon with them watching.
The music began, and I was glad that most of the dance was spent crossing through the square with the gentleman opposite me and then circling in the center with the other ladies. But when the quadrille ended and the waltz began, there was no one to come between Damon and me.
Damon’s arm circled my waist and mine his. Together we raised our arms to form an arch above our heads. Heat prickled between us, and when our eyes met, the memory of our stolen waltz overwhelmed me.
“I can’t—I can’t do this. Excuse me.” I pushed my way through the crush, leaving him alone on the dance floor, and I did not stop until I’d reached the portico outside. People were milling about, but I found a semi-secluded spot at the railing and sucked in a gulp of cool air. My eyes filled with tears. I gripped the balcony railing and tipped up my chin to keep them from falling. It did not work. A drop slipped down my cheek and then another.
“Are you unwell?” Damon’s voice startled me from behind.
“I’m fine,” I said, but my voice was threadbare and shaky.
He stood beside me at the railing. “You look as fine as I feel, which is to say, not at all.” He produced a handkerchief from his coat’s breast pocket and silently offered it to me.
Our hands brushed as I took it from his grasp. “Thank you.” I dabbed the sensitive skin beneath my eyes, but it did not stop new tears from falling. And so long as I stood this near him, there was little hope I would be able to compose myself. I pushed off the railing, away from Damon, and hurried down the steps toward the garden.
“Miss Kent,” he called after me, but I did not stop.
Lanterns illuminated the garden path and led to a gazebo. It was not so far away from the manor as to be indecent, but the covered roof would provide privacy from prying eyes. I just needed a moment to regain my composure.
“Hannah,” Damon called again, his quick footfalls quieting as he slowed to a stop behind me.
I opened my mouth to beg for a moment of privacy, but my voice clogged in my throat, and only a whimper escaped. I turned away from him, wanting to conceal my face.
“Please don’t hide from me.” Damon walked to where I stood in the middle of the gazebo and touched my elbow, turning me to face him. The moment he saw my tearstained face, he pinched off his gloves and brushed his fingers across my cheeks to dry them.
In a moment of weakness, I leaned into his touch, relishing the heat of his palm, the scent of his wrist.
“Hannah.” My name fell from his lips in a whisper. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’msosorry.”
“Me too.” I lifted my hand to his chest. His heart was beating so fast and hard. And when he stepped closer—so close that the toe of his boot brushed the hem of my skirt—my heart returned the same rhythm.
But as exhilarating as it was to stand so near him, we should not be so careless; the ball was going on not so very far from where we stood. I moved to drop my hand, but his hand darted from my face and held mine in place. “Stay with me. Please. Just one more moment.”
I wanted to, but . . . “We shouldn’t. You have an obligation to your family, to Summerhaven.”
“I know,” he said, hoarsely. “But I don’t think I can carry this burden without you.”
“You can,” I said, even though it pained me to do so. “Youmust.” I understood that now. As much as I wished he could choose otherwise, Damon’s life was not his own; it belonged to all those who depended on him and always would. I pulled my hand from beneath his and removed his palm from my cheek.
A sad expression stole across his face, and he hung his head. “I am in love with you, Hannah.”
“And I love you, Damon.” They were the truest words I’d ever uttered, and yet, I should not have said them; voicing our feelings would only make them harder to deny.
“You . . .loveme?” He searched my face.
“More than I have ever loved anyone,” I whispered. How could he not know?
He pressed his eyes closed as if savoring my words, and when they reopened, his gaze landed on my lips. His mouth dipped toward mine as if he had no power to stop it. Pleasure rippled through me in anticipation, but only a breath away, he stilled.
We could never marry. He knew it, and so did I, but wecouldhave this moment. I raised onto the tips of my toes and pressed my lips to his.
