Because those stolen glances had not been innocent at all, no, they had merely fanned the flames between them—heightened the anticipation.
Anticipation and promise.
The promises they’d exchanged in that last kiss.
Which, Priscilla acknowledged, might not have been their last kiss after all.
The Terrace
Hunt steered her through a hidden side door and into the dark foyer with no one being the wiser. A rare excitement raced through him.
“You’re a little too good at that.” she giggled as they made their way through the shadows dancing on the walls. Flames flickered in lanterns spaced just close enough to one another to light the way.
“I’ve had lots of practice.”
She smothered her laughter and shot him a disapproving glance.
“As a child.” He grinned. “I was never one to appreciate adult conversation—proper conversation, that is.”
“Did your sisters sneak out with you?”
“No. I was the only one required to endure my parents’ social gatherings. The girls escaped them.”
Hunt had learned early on the importance of keeping his father happy. When his father was happy, everyone was safe.
Allison’s hand squeezed his arm, almost as though she could read the direction of his thoughts.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
In deciding to give her the pendant, Hunt had a very specific location in mind. A place he’d gone often enough on his own.
Not everyone would appreciate Cliff Terrace, but Allison would.
And he could count on them not being interrupted. He’d considered giving her a ring, but wasn’t prepared to play that card yet.
“Somewhere special.” He led her to the very back of Cliffhouse, past the billiard room, the library, and the gallery.
“A secret door?” she whispered.
“It wouldn’t be special if it wasn’t.” He slid his arm around her waist and then guided her ahead of him.
With anyone else, this would have been a simple stroll, but with Allison, it felt more like a secret mission.
Stopping, Hunt exchanged his cane for a torch stored on the window's ledge and then touched the tip to one of the lanterns. Only then did he pull open the ancient door that had been designed to match the molding on the wall.
“It truly is a secret door,” she exclaimed, sounding delighted.
“Stay close, sweetheart. These steps are steep and uneven,” he warned and then stepped ahead of her.
“Your foot—?”
“Is fine.” He was happy to realize it was mostly the truth. Aside from a few twinges, it was finally feeling dependable.
He took a few steps down and waited for her to catch up. When the door slammed closed behind them, she reached for his hand.
“We don’t have to go down if you’re afraid.” He never wanted to do anything to scare her.
“I’m not. I trust you.”
