“Not all of tonight,” she said.
He took her hand and led her back down the hall, resisting the urge to gloat. “No, we can’t have that. It would be an insult to my pride if my kisses were forgettable.”
She scoffed. “Pride is a sin.”
“Sin and I are well acquainted. I haven’t been struck down by righteous lightening yet.”
They came to a stop just before he pushed open the door. Light and noise spilled from under it. They would be reentering the spinning world they’d briefly escaped from and there would be more people than before.
“Are you ready? We’ll have to cross the ladies’ floor to reach the door to the other side of the house.”
She put on her mask and pulled the hood of her domino over her head. “Is my mask straight?”
“It is.”
“I’m ready.”
Tristan wasn’t. If he could, he’d keep her in that dark hall forever, where only the two of them and that kiss existed. But he opened the door anyway and walked her quickly across the ladies’ floor and escorted her right to her door. Thankfully, she didn’t wonder or ask how he knew where her room was.
“Thank you for tonight, and for...” She bit her lip as she removed the mask and lifted her gaze to his.
“We don’t have to speak of it, explain it, or anything. It’s fine.”
“I know, but it wasn’t a good idea. I’m here to marry someone, not dally in dark halls.” She sighed like she was disappointed in herself.
His mood sank. It was a terrible idea. Most of the things he longed for weren’t good ideas. But he wasn’t going to take it back. That might be their first and last kiss, but it was still worth it. He still tingled with the heat of his lingering desire. He knew nothing more could happen, should happen, and he wouldn’t push for anything else. However, if she desired more, he’d be helpless to resist her.
“It remains in the shadows and just between us,” he assured her.
Their gazes held a moment too long, long enough to leave him with a glimmer of hope, a foolhardy wish there would be more kisses in the shadows. That she wanted those kisses as much as he did. That she felt this pull between them. He was dying to know if he was right or wrong.
“Goodnight, Tristan.”
“Goodnight, Flick.”
He stood there long after her door closed, hands braced on the frame, before he could turn away.
The following night, she appeared in a grayish-blue gown with a smart jacket that covered her arms to her gloved hands and had military-style buttons running all the way to her throat. She wore the gold mask and a plume of white feathers in her hair. She was hesitant as she joined him at the door connecting to the club, but she held herhead high as they first stopped to look over the main floor from the ladies’ gallery.
As if waiting for her arrival, many faces turned her way, followed by cheers for Lady Luck.
“What are they doing?” she asked.
“You’ve become quite popular.”
“Even after what that man said?”
“He’s not likely to show his face around here anytime soon,” Tristan said. “Not when he insulted the beautiful and mysterious Lady Luck.”
Tristan wasn’t amused by their fawning attention, but she seemed relieved, so he kept his thoughts to himself.
“Shall we?” He offered his arm, and she linked her elbow with his.
“Stay with me, please. I don’t want another man to lead me.”
“Whatever you wish.” His heart thumped delightedly at her words. This was the trust he’d been aching for. Last night, after leaving her in her room, he’d sat at the bar and drunk more than he usually did. His only urge was to go to his rented room and take himself in hand with her face and the memory of her soft lips in his mind. But he’d drunk instead. Because the more he taunted himself with thoughts of her, the harder it would be to keep his head on straight.
To pleasure himself to her felt wrong somehow, a breach of this tenuous friendship, the only relationship he could ever have with her. He couldn’t be her trusted protector while salivating over her tempting body.
