Cecilia felt a wave of panic. “I wasn’t staring!” she protested, her voice a bit too high-pitched. “I was just—uh—thinking.”
“Thinking, hmm?” Alistair raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. He took a step closer, the space between them shrinking, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his broad shoulders filled out the tailored shirt. “About what? How charming I am?”
Is he… flirting with me?
Cecilia fought to suppress a smile, but it slipped through. “I don’t believe you would be so full of yourself, Your Grace,” she managed, trying to maintain a facade of indifference. Yet, every part of her was acutely aware of his presence, the way he leaned slightly toward her, drawing her into his orbit.
She took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure. “Your Grace, I-,” she began, her voice faltering as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I wanted to apologize for kissing you before.”
Alistair’s brow shot up in surprise, his expression shifting from amusement to intrigue. For a fleeting moment, the lightness of the conversation dissipated, replaced by a tension that crackled in the air.
An almost excited glint flickered in his eyes, and he leaned forward, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "You’re thinking about our kiss, in this moment, Miss Everton?”
Cecilia’s heart raced, and she felt herself flush even deeper. Panic surged through her, and she stammered, “I—uh, no! I mean, yes, but not in a manner as-” She let out a groan, “I had just panicked in the moment, I did not mean- and I didn’t want to trap you in a scandal.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, desperate to clarify her intentions.
Alistair’s gaze remained fixed on her, a dangerous spark igniting in his eyes. The silence stretched between them, thick andcharged, as he seemed to savor her flustered state. He leaned deeper into the shelf, stretching his long legs out in front of him, the fabric of his tailored trousers hugging his form.
“Cecilia,” he finally said, his voice low and smooth, “I know all this now. The past few days have taught me a lot, for example, I won’t be stopping my sister and Nathaniel’s wedding in any sort.”
His voice lowered, “I have learned a lot about your family, and about you, Miss Everton.”
Alistair stepped closer, his presence enveloping her like a warm blanket, and Cecilia fought the urge to lean into him. The air was tense and electric.
What are you still doing here, Cecilia?
She felt her cheeks flush, her mind racing as she struggled to maintain her composure. She stammered, desperately searching for a way out of the moment. “I really should?—”
“Should what?” It was as though Alistair could tell she wanted to run as he interrupted, his gaze piercing as he tilted his head slightly, a challenge in his eyes.
“Leave. Goodnight, Your Grace!” she blurted out, waving the book as if it were a shield. The words tumbled out in a rush, her desperation bubbling to the surface.
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and fled the library, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She could feel his eyes on her, and she cursed herself for the way her heart fluttered at the thought of him watching her go.
CHAPTER 15
“Did you really just say that, brother?” Cecilia laughed, shaking her head at her the earl’s latest quip.
The Holloway mansion was alive with chatter as they waited for the first guest to arrive for the ball, the grand dining room adorned with sparkling chandeliers and elegantly set tables, filled with the scent of gourmet dishes wafting through the air.
“Of course I did! You know I’m the funniest one here,” Tristan replied with a cheeky grin, earning a playful shove from Cecilia. “Just admit it, you love my jokes.”
“Love is a strong word,” she teased, rolling her eyes before glancing over at Evie and Nathaniel, who were now deep in their own conversation. Feeling the need to escape the familiar banter, she excused herself, making her way towards the side table laden with glasses of wine.
As she reached for a glass, she suddenly found herself walking alongside Alistair, who had just stepped away from the butler and her breath caught in her throat.
He looked completely different from the slightly drunk man she’d met last night. He was extra dressed today; effortlessly handsome in a tailored suit, the fabric hugging his shoulders perfectly, and his dark hair was neatly styled, giving him the usual air of sophistication that made her heart race unexpectedly.
“Miss Everton,” he greeted, his voice smooth and warm, sending a shiver down her spine. She nodded in response, her throat suddenly dry as the tension in the air thickened between them.
“Your Grace,” she managed, picking up her glass at last, her heart pounding as silence enveloped them. She could feel the weight of his gaze, those deep-set eyes studying her with an intensity that made her acutely aware of every breath she took.
In that moment, she knew she should turn back, rejoin the others, but something about Alistair held her captive. He stood with his usual relaxed confidence, yet there seemed to be an underlying tension in his posture.
“Here’s to hoping it’d be a splendid ball, yes?” To her surprise, he finally broke the silence, his lips curling into a slight smile, as she brought her glass to her lips.
“Not if you’ll be around, Your Grace,” her intrusive thoughts got the better of her and Cecilia couldn’t help the reply that tumbledout of her mouth. Her eyes went wide in realization, however, thankfully, she heard the duke’s chuckles, and she turned to find a smirk on his face.
Something has changed.
