As soon as she stepped into the library, William asked her, “What is wrong?”
Rachel’s lips were pressed tight. On top of all the irritation that had brewed inside her from her mother's dismissive remarks, it irked her that she was that transparent to William.
“Nothing, I am fine.” She waved her hand.
He looked from her to Jane, who only discreetly coughed and turned her head. When William turned back to her, Rachel was set to call this session off, but then he did something odd. He pulled the drapes to turn the room shadowy, then reached for her hand and drew her into a dancing position—the most scandalous of them all: the waltz.
“Pretend that is it just you and me,” he said before stepping forward, forcing her to follow. “Nothing outside of this room exists; only you and I in a castle far into the mountains overlooking a lake. Everything is peaceful; all is right. You have not a care in the world.”
The irritation still ripe inside her heart had Rachel fighting against his soothing voice. Nothing he could say would move that anger away—but William must have realized it.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said. “Why?”
“Close your eyes and follow me,” he said.
Though unwilling, Rachel obeyed and danced with him around the room. “You’re alone with the man you love, and there is no one to tell you what to do or how to do it. You are free to do all you want, do what you love, go wherever you want; you are now the person you wanted to see in the mirror.
He spun her. “All the problems from the life you left behind are nothing but faint memories now. Hypocritical women and stuffed-shirt lords are long behind you…”
Rachel’s chest expanded at the thought of not having to bow to others to run her life. She tried to push away the irritation inside her and think about the life William was telling her about. It still felt outlandish from all that she knew, but… it felt sweet.
“You have nothing to fear now…” he said quietly. “It’s all behind you.”
The dance slowed, and when they stopped, Rachel opened her eyes. When she spoke, the words she wanted to say were eclipsed. “When did you learn how to waltz?”
“One does not stay in manor houses for nearly ten years and not pick up a few things,” William said quietly while searching her eyes. “What I want you to understand is, soon enough, this will all be a memory.”
“I—” Rachel fell a bit mesmerized by William’s intent gaze. A spike of excitement ran through her, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she leaned in just that much.
His head canted to the side, and a lock of his hair flopped over his heated gaze— Jane coughed.
The poignant interruption had Rachel snapping out of her daze and stepping away. Her breath was unsteady as she went to the divan. Seated, she tried to brush away the troubling feeling inside her chest but failed.
He had almost kissed me—and I would have let him do it.
When Jane came to arrange the blanket over her knees, Rachel could only give her a grateful smile.
William was back at his easel, but he stared at it blankly. He shook his head a little then reached for his pencils, but when he looked up, the heat in his gaze had not dissipated. With her heart in her throat, Rachel wondered what was going through his mind—and if it were anything like the feelings she was trying to put at bay, they were in trouble.
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Chapter 7
It hurt him when Rachel had rushed out of the library the day before as if her heels were on fire, but William understood. The feelings he had for her too were scaring him too.
Now, in the wee hours of the morning, after another fitful night, William braced his arms on the windowsill and waited for morning to dawn. His weary eyes gazed blankly out into the darkness, hunting for the faint grey to start eroding the darkness.
As the sky began to lighten, revealing the ghostly trails of mist creeping along the ground, he managed a smile. Morning and twilight were the most mystical hours of the day. Just as his hand was reaching for his pencil, his eye landed on a tiny form huddled on a bench in the center of the maze.
The fall of dark hair told him who it was, and without thinking, he grabbed his cloak and rushed out.
Why is Rachel out there crying?
It did not matter that he was only in his sleep shirt and a pair of loose trousers or that he was barefoot; he had to get to her. Her hair was falling pell-mell over her shoulders while her legs were tucked to her chin. The thin dressing-gown she had on looked damp right through, and he heard her soft sobs before she heard him approaching.
It was only when he wrapped his cloak around her that she startled. A heated lance of pain rammed through William when he saw the bright glisten of tears in her eyes and the wet marks down her cheeks.
