He heard her sigh just as they turned the last corner. “Very well.”
Stopping in what was nearly complete darkness, Carter struck a flint and held it to the gaslight left on a small table just above the narrow staircase. “Stay close.”
He didn’t know why he spoke softly, but she took him at his word, brushing up behind him as they descended the uneven steps.
He didn’t pause so she could bump up against him. No, he was simply being cautious.
Once downstairs, he lit a second sconce attached to the wall, illuminating three rows of costumes made up of endless colors and materials.
“I don’t want to get paint on any of them.” Miss Sparrow held back from entering the room.
“Just have a care,” he replied.
And having been given permission, Miss Sparrow glided between the dimly lit rows of gowns, each one whispering tales of past theatrical triumphs. She moved with a dancer's grace, her eyes alight with excitement.
And even covered in blue paint, she had the look of a fairy princess.
Carter could hardly tear his gaze away from her.
"Oh, Mr. Dodd," she said, lingering at the end of one row. “Are these from Romeo and Juliet?”
In answer, he dipped his chin but then joined her there. Lifting a scarlet velvet, he examined it closely and then said, “This should fit.”
This time her laughter echoed in the cave-like room—a melodious sound that wrapped around his heart like a silk ribbon.
“It’s positively scandalous. I can’t wear that. But then again," she teased and pointed to an adjacent gown, the one Juliet wore in the final scene, "This lavender gown has an air of mystery, don't you think?"
This time, Carter couldn't help but grin.
This woman.
His playwright, no less, had the ability to turn the most mundane of tasks into a game. And with limited time to work with, he ought to be annoyed.
But he was not.
Stepping closer, he considered the gown she’d pointed out. "You would look enchanting in both, but perhaps you have a point."
“Of course I have a point.” A smile danced on those ruby red lips. “And I’m usually right.”
By God, he was enchanted.
Shaking his head, Carter removed his handkerchief from his pocket and gently brushed her cheek to wipe away a smudge of paint. "I think the lavender would be a more prudent choice."
Carter couldn’t look away but she was saved by scraping sounds from above. Lucky for her, he was reminded of where they were and he pushed away his increasingly inappropriate thoughts where Miss Sparrow was concerned.
The minx broke the spell with a blink, and then turned her attention back to the gown. "Lavender it is, then."
It was as though the moment never happened.
Perhaps it had not for her. But he knew women. He’d seen the flush in her cheeks and how she’d licked her lips.
Blast and damn, it wasn’t the right time and she, most certainly, wasn’t the right woman.
He cleared his throat. “You can change behind there.” He pointed to the dressing screen behind him. Careful not to get paint on him or any of the gowns, she carefully moved around him.
“Now, to get out of this…” She seemed to be talking to herself, adding a few sighs and a low grunt. Carter contemplated leaving her to change alone, but wasn’t prepared to trust her in such tight quarters with open flames—fueled with gas, no less. So instead, he waited, folding his arms across his chest with closed eyes, imagining her fair skin as she peeled herself out of that atrocious green gown.
And of course, she wouldn’t just change in silence.
