My confusion must have read on my face because he answered my unasked question. “We need to stop.”
“No, we don’t.” My answer came from someone else’s lips. It could not have sprung from me with so little thought. Wherever it came from, it settled into the space between us, quivering there.
His throat bobbed and his cheek worked as he bit back whatever instinctive response my comment elicited. Azure eyes closed and he took a deep breath, releasing it before stepping forward.
He cupped my jaw and tilted my gaze to meet his. “Not tonight, love. It’s been quite a day for the both of us. Lotsof excitement, passion, and frights. Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”
Delight at the endearment warred with undeterred and unabated lust, fighting for prominence against the instinctive pang of rejection.
“But you want to?” I asked, sounding pathetic even to my own ears.
He chuckled. “Wanting has never been the problem in our situation. I didn’t want to want you. But… Every time I see you, every time we talk, every time we touch, every time we fight—I can’t think for wanting you. You’re in my blood, spreading through every inch of me until all that’s left is you.”
Oh… Oh my.
My stomach flipped as I stared into his eyes and my heart slipped out of rhythm in a way that was at once familiar and entirely new. I was not there. Not even close yet.
But it was within my grasp—that thing that I wanted most in the world and feared more than anything else. The sentiment that would leave me drowning and needing—not air—buthim. My heart pounded out a staccato rhythm.
Could I do this again? If I did, would I survive the fallout?
“Told you I was a terrible poet…” He took a step back and his hand fell away from my cheek. It found the back of his neck in a sheepish scratch.
“No! That was beautiful. I just think you might be right. About tonight. It was an eventful day.”
“Right. I should see you home.”
“You don’t have to, I can manage.”
“Celine—Lady Rycliffe, I mean. If you think I’m allowing you to walk home by yourself after the events of this evening, you are sorely mistaken.”
“I think we can dispense with the formalities at this point, don’t you?”
“All right.Celine, I will be escorting you home. Now, gather your umbrella and your knife.”
“It’s your umbrella,William.” His eyes, midnight blue in the dim firelight, softened at the sound of his name. Even as a smirk crossed his lips.
“Not anymore. You got viscera on it.”
I could not have contained the burst of laughter that broke from my chest for all the world.
“I really did, didn’t I?”
He handed me his overcoat and I slipped my arms inside. It hung too wide and too long, but it was warm and smelled of sage and old books.
“You did. Is it strange if I tell you I found it rather attractive?” He led me down the steps and out into the night before hesitating.
“Left. And probably. But I rather like the idea of you being attracted to me.” He turned, guiding me along with a protective hand hovering behind my back. It never found its place, but I could feel the warmth through the dress and coat and chemise.
“Are you going to tell me where you learned to do that?”
“Gabriel taught me to fence. I used it like a foil.”
“Don’t know why we sent an entire army to France. We could have sent you and your umbrella and the whole war would’ve been finished in an afternoon.”
“It was mostly luck. They didn’t expect me to fight back. Right here,” I directed.
“No one would have expected you to fight back like that. You were glorious. Remind me to stop upsetting you.”
