“I—” she began, but the words caught in her throat. The weight of his gaze bore down on her, and she hesitated, feeling thetension between them thickening like the snow around their feet.
Alistair’s stormy blue eyes searched hers, a mix of curiosity and concern flashing across his features. He was striking, with chiseled features and a strong jawline that seemed to set in determination, but in this moment, he appeared vulnerable, as if her answer held the key to something deeper.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Cecilia could sense the shift in his demeanor. Her heart sank as she realized that her hesitation spoke volumes. His expression darkened at last, and he took a step back, the warmth of his presence suddenly replaced by an icy void.
No… Wait…
“I’m sorry for the kiss,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with regret.
Before she could respond, he turned away, the distance between them growing with every step he took. Cecilia felt a pang of emptiness wash over her, a hollow ache where warmth had once thrived. Panic surged within her, and she reached out instinctively, but the space between them felt insurmountable.
“Wait…”
But the whisper echoed into the stillness, falling flat against the cold air. He paused, but didn’t turn back, leaving her standing there, breathless and yearning all over.
CHAPTER 19
“It’s quite a lovely evening, isn’t it?” Alistair ventured, his voice barely rising above the symphony of laughter and clinking glasses that filled the grand ballroom of the Holloway estate.
The chandeliers cast a warm glow, illuminating the swirling gowns and polished shoes of the guests who moved across the marble floor.
Diana offered a small, polite smile, her delicate features framed by her soft curls that fell gracefully over her shoulders. “Yes, very lovely,” she replied, her tone barely above a whisper, as she glanced away, her gaze drifting towards the ornate decorations that adorned the walls.
Alistair felt a pang of disappointment; her eyes, though bright, seemed to lack the sparkle of genuine interest. He shifted on his feet, adjusting his tailored jacket, the fabric brushing against his skin as he tried to maintain a semblance of confidence.“The music is particularly enchanting tonight,” he continued, attempting to draw her back into the conversation. “Perhaps we could?—”
“I fear another dance would be inappropriate, Your Grace,” Diana interrupted, her voice trembling slightly as she cleared her throat, a nervous habit he had noticed in their brief acquaintance. She looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the lace of her sleeve, clearly more comfortable in silence than in his company.
Ah, well.
Like clockwork, Alistair’s eyes flickered to the ballroom floor, drawn inexplicably to Cecilia, who danced effortlessly with surprisingly, the same man she’d danced with at the previous ball, her laughter ringing like chimes in the air. He felt a magnetic pull towards her, the way her vibrant spirit seemed to illuminate the room, contrasting sharply with the cool detachment of the woman before him.
Stop staring at her.
He forced his gaze back to Diana, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, her posture rigid and formal.
“Diana,” he said, trying to bridge the growing chasm between them. “I assume you’ve attended many balls like this?” He found himself desperate for a spark of connection, but her response was a mere nod, her expression still distant.
“Perhaps many, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice soft as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “But I prefer quieter gatherings.”
The silence stretched between them, awkward and heavy. Alistair felt his heart sink, the realization dawning that their chemistry was nonexistent. He realized, he’d been hoping for more, for something-anything-over the weeks. He cleared his throat again, the sound echoing in the lull of their conversation.
“Right. Quiet gatherings…” he murmured, trailing off as he caught sight of Cecilia twirling away again, the very embodiment of vivacity.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Diana’s eyes follow his for a moment, but she quickly looked away, a shadow of uncertainty crossing her features. Alistair, feeling the weight of their discomfort, struggled to find words, but the silence lingered, thick and unyielding.
Nevertheless, he couldn’t pull his gaze from Cecilia. Her dress flowed like liquid moonlight, the fabric shimmering softly with every movement, as if it were woven from the stars themselves.
The way it hugged her figure accentuated her grace, and Alistair couldn't help but admire the delicate lace that adorned the neckline, framing her face perfectly. Her dark hair seemed to sparkle in the light, creating a halo that made her look almost ethereal.
Alistair felt a pang of longing in his chest, a bittersweet ache that intensified with each smile he watched grace her lips. He squeezed his fists at his sides, the tension coiling within him like a tightly wound spring.
It took every ounce of willpower to resist the urge to stride across the ballroom and claim her attention. He wanted to reach out, to be the one to cause her smile, to breathe in the warmth of her presence.
At last, the music came to an end. Alistair shifted from the tables they had been standing close to and bowed as Diana bent into a curtsy, her delicate frame poised yet distant. A polite smile graced her lips, but there was an air of formality that made Alistair’s stomach churn. Clearing his throat, he spoke, “Lady Diana, it’s been a lovely evening, hasn’t it?”
“Indeed, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice soft and measured.
An awkward silence fell between them again, punctuated only by the distant sound of music and laughter. Alistair shifted his weight, feeling the heaviness of the moment. “I—I should take my leave,” he blurted out, the words spilling from his lips.
