“He’s unlike any other man I have ever met,” Caroline whispered. “When I’m with him, I feel so …” She halted, searching for the right word. “Happy.”
Alaina managed to smile.
“I admit, I don’t want this to end either.” Caroline sank down off the chair, joining Alaina on the rug. “I’m sorry I got us into this mess.”
Alaina reached forward. The pair embraced tightly, rocking from side to side on the hearth rug.
“I’m sorry too,” Alaina whispered.
She wasn’t sure how long they stayed on the rug hugging, but neither one of them was in a hurry to pull away. When they eventually did, Alaina added another log to the fire as the summer’s evening was growing chilly.
“So, we’ll enjoy this last week?” Caroline asked. “Then next week, at some point before the ball, we’ll have to come clean.”
“Agreed,” Alaina whispered, staring into the flames.
She ran a finger along her lips, thinking about the gentleness with which Marcus had kissed her that day and the contrast with the heat of the way he had kissed her against that door. To think that in a week she would have to say goodbye to him, that he would never kiss her in that way again, broke her heart into pieces.
***
The next night, Alaina stayed awake for many hours with Marcus. They played card games late into the night before she retreated to her bedchamber, where she was unable to sleep. Sitting forward in the same chair she had sat in the night before, when talking with Caroline, she stared at the fire, wishing she could go downstairs and continue that night with Marcus.
They had laughed together for what felt like hours, flirting, their feet and legs touching beneath the table. She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of his knee bumping hers when there was a knock on the door.
Alaina’s eyes shot open. It must be Caroline, though it was odd for her to knock. She adjusted her nightgown, not bothering to cover herself with a dressing gown. She opened the door wide, and when a figure appeared in the candlelight on the other side, she was struck still.
“I know I shouldn’t be here,” Marcus whispered to her. “I just had to see you.”
She beckoned him inside without thinking, just glad he was here. He stepped inside, and she closed the door behind him. They turned and stared at one another. His eyes wandered down her appearance, and she was suddenly acutely aware of what little cloth there was between them. She wore only the nightgown as he stood there in his shirt and trousers.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said, his voice deep.
“What for?”
“For your father controlling your part in this. I know I played my part, too, but this, asking me to hold a ball, is very different. He is confident I will say yes for the sake of the dowry. I am sorry for him moving you around as if you are a marionette. Now, telling us that we have to hold a ball? I know it’s mad. I know, and I’m sorry for it,” he said in a sudden rush. It was clear these words had been aching to come out of him, though he must have refrained earlier in the day, not wanting to spoil the happy air between them. “I just don’t want to scare you by how fast things are progressing.”
“Fast?” she whispered. Yes, it was quick, but she was most certainly not scared about how fast they were moving. What scared her was simply the thought of losing him. “You’re not scaring me.” She stepped towards him. Once more, his eyes shot down her. He even scratched the back of his neck in a way that she now knew meant he was feeling tense. “Marcus,” she hesitated. The words were on the tip of her tongue.
I’m in love with you.
She looked down at the floor between them, then raised her head again. “I care for you more than any other man I have ever met. What I feel for you, it’s hard to describe.”
Her words caused a sudden movement. He reached for her hand and snatched it up between them, turning it over and kissing the inside of her wrist sweetly.
“I care for you too,” he whispered, his lips still pressed to her skin. He moved back just an inch, his eyes lifting to meet hers again. “I have been able to write more than I have in years with you here. I never understood before what writers meant by having a muse.” He laughed gently. “I understand it now.”
“You do?” She wanted to shake her head, baffled by such an idea. Alaina was just a simple maid, an orphan, no one special. How was it possible that she could inspire a man like Marcus to write abouther?Yet such words died at the back of her throat.
“I do,” he said again, shifting and lifting her arm that little bit higher so that his lips travelled up her arm. Her breath hitched increasingly, each breath getting shorter and sharper as she thought of how alone they were and how little she wanted to send him away.
“Stay, Marcus,” she pleaded, the words escaping her in a rush. “Pray, do not leave me tonight.”
He moved towards her in a rush, taking her hand and pulling it down to his side so they stumbled together. His other hand reached for her waist as her hand found the neck of his shirt, pulling on it, tugging him down towards her. Whatever more words he had come to say to her now vanished, for their lips met in a heated kiss.
Alaina felt heat exploding inside her. All she wanted to do was relive what they had done against the door of her bedchamber.
No … I wish to discover something more!
She continued to pull on his shirt, freeing her other hand from his clasp to reach up and pull at that shirt. He took the hint, pulling back from her just far enough to help lift the shirt over his head. Distracted, her eyes wandered over the carved muscles of his chest. Her fingers quickly followed, exploring him fast. He tipped his head back, a breathy moan escaping him, but he did not stay still for long.
