Her reply was as quiet as his. “I did want you to. Very much.”
Nicholas sighed at that, a deep sigh that Alix could feel in her own chest, and then he reached his hands around her torso and pulled her close. Alix had never been kissed before, but some instinctive part of her knew exactly how to tip her face up and press her lips to his.
The kiss was soft, and tender, and infinitely sweet. Alix knew they were being reckless, embracing like this in public—at a crowded party, no less—but she could no longer bring herself to care. She was drowning in the moment, in the feel and taste and scent of him, allowing her body the closeness it had craved since the moment she first saw Nicholas, all those months ago. Her hands crept up to settle around his shoulders, drawing his body even nearer to hers. It all felt so utterlyright,as if her palms had been seeking those shoulders for years and now, at last, knew where they belonged.
Alix had no idea how long they might have spent entwined like that if a staccato sound hadn’t flung them apart.
Her hands flew to her mouth.Oh god,she thought, someone had fired a gun—but then she realized that it was nothing to worry about; the pyrotechnics expert had begun setting off the fireworks down the lawn.
“I’m sorry.” Nicholas took a hasty step back. “I should never have—it’s my fault that—”
“Please, don’t,” Alix said breathlessly. “I do not regret anything that has happened, nor should you.”
She only regretted that it hadn’t happened sooner.
“Still, I am determined to do this right. Which means that we should get back to the party,” Nicholas insisted.
Alix reluctantly started back toward the terrace, toward the other guests in their garish costumes and headgear, all of them transfixed by the colors in the sky. She knew he was right; they needed to return before their absence was noted.
Still, as they walked, Nicholas held her hand in his. His thumb traced small, delicious circles over her glove, sending shivers across her skin. It felt like a promise that whatever was between them had only just begun—that everything she felt for him, he felt, too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hélène
HÉLÈNE WISHED SHE HADN’T COMEto this stupid fancy-dress party. She’d done such a good job avoiding Eddy since that day at the photography exhibit: she’d ignored the notes he sent to her house—which were on unmarked stationery, though her parents had never screened her mail as some young women’s did—and had stayed home from any events he might attend.
But there he was, wearing a navy tunic with a cape and a wide-brimmed hat, both decidedly French in style.
Hélène felt him trying to catch her eye and deliberately ignored it, dancing with one nobleman after another without registering their names. As usual, Eddy was surrounded by admirers of his own; the women around him were constantly batting their eyes or thrusting out their chests in their ridiculous spangled costumes. Hélène wished she could prowl circles around Eddy like some kind of territorial jungle animal.Back off,she wanted to tell them all.He is mine.
Except he wasn’t hers, and never had been. He was Alix of Hesse’s.
“Is that Hélène? My god, it’s been too long!” The booming voice of Prince Constantine sounded behind her. He held out a hand, grinning. “Please, say you’ll dance with me.”
Dance with Eddy’s cousin, known in the newspapers as the “rake of Greece”?
“I would be delighted.” Hélène just hoped that Eddy was still watching. If he felt jealous, all the better. Maybe he would begin to understand what it was like for her, constantlywatching him with Alix.
She and Tino swept onto the dance floor. The Greek prince looked wickedly handsome in his slashed doublet, as if he’d stepped straight out of a Titian painting. He nodded appreciatively at her plum-colored riding habit.
“Look at you, attending a fancy-dress party dressed for a hunt. You remind me of an Amazon,” he declared. “One of the beautiful ones, of course, from the statues in our garden in Athens.” He winked in a way that somehow implied he meant nude statues.
Normally Hélène would have laughed at that; she’d always liked Tino. He was easygoing in the way that men so often were but women never seemed to be. Because women could neveraffordto be.
Instead she stole a reflexive glance across the ballroom to where Eddy stood. He was watching her.
Something shivered between them, a flash of heat so palpable that Hélène almost worried the other guests might sense it.
Eddy tilted his head toward the terrace in a slight but unmistakable gesture.
Hélène knew she shouldn’t follow, yet without a second thought she mumbled an excuse to Tino and turned away. It was as though Eddy were the sun, exerting a bodily gravitational pull on her.
She stepped through the double doors and saw that he washeading into the grounds, his head tucked down beneath his hat to avoid notice. Hélène hesitated for only a heartbeat before following in his wake, edging along the manicured garden with its neatly trimmed parterres. Groups of people strolled along the gravel paths, which were lit by torches every few yards to maintain the illusion, at least, of propriety. Though Eddy and Hélène were sticking to the shadows along the far wall.
Ahead lay the orangerie, an enormous stone structure topped with a glass cupola. Eddy cast another glance back at Hélène before opening the door.
The air inside felt damp, heavy with the scents of earth and water and growing things. Vines and climbing plants trailed up the walls. Potted palms stood near the entrance, giving way to trees that grew in blithe disorder, their branches lacing overhead. It felt lush and erotic, pulsing with heat, completely unlike the rigid gardens Hélène had just walked through.
