‘Are you decent?’
By normal standards, no, I wasn’t decent.My dress was practically falling off me.I had to hold the bodice to my chest, my underclothes on full display from any angle other than front on.‘Decent enough,’ I said, and pushed the door fully open.
Raleigh turned to face me and was replaced by a startled deer who didn’t know where to look.
‘I can’t reach the buttons.I need you to do them up for me.’
‘Right, of course.’
I turned my back to him, shivering as he brushed my hair over one shoulder.
He snatched his hand away.‘I’ll be quick.’
‘They’re only buttons,’ I breathed, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince.His fingers grazed my back through the velvet as he did up the first.He moved carefully, but with the confidence of someone already well familiar with the intricacies of women’s clothing.The thought smouldered within me, impossible to push away.Every shift of his hands pulsed through me, and his cool breath tickled the back of my neck.I prayed my flush hadn’t reached there too.He was only fastening buttons after all.
Through the mirrors I could see myself reflected at every angle.The dress was stunning, if outdated, and the abundance of ruffles made me feel like a real princess.But when I turned around and stole a glance at Raleigh’s expression he appeared unmoved.
I’m not sure what I expected.Did I want him to glance away like a blushing innocent, or for his eyes to caress me in his appraisal?They did travel across my body, but it was with a hint of a scowl, his displeasure clear.I tried to convince myself that it didn’t hurt, that I didn’t care what he thought.It was only my vanity speaking, that was all.
‘She knows your measurements,’ he said at last.
I found myself speechless.
‘I’d expect her to know mine,’ he continued, raising his cuff so he could examine the stitching, ‘but she could only know yours if …’
The intensity of his expression made my spine tingle.‘Perhaps she asked your tailor.’
‘Let’s hope so.’He bowed his head and murmured, ‘At least she has good taste.You look magnificent.’
‘You flatter me.’
‘It isn’t flattery if it’s true.’His hand found my waist and as his cold fingers seared into my side, the smouldering intimacy of the moment ignited.‘I wonder if you could help me too,’ he said, voice low.
The spot on my waist where his fingers remained developed its own heartbeat.I placed a hand on his chest.‘As long as it doesn’t require undressing again,’ I murmured.
Vampires, it turns out, actually can blush.
A hint of a smile flickered, then fell just as quickly.His eyes darted to a mirror, then the bed and he snatched his hand from my waist.‘I meant my hair,’ he said.‘I can’t see it.Usually Moira would do it for me but she’s not here, and I don’t dare face the Queen without knowing my hair is presentable.So if it isn’t too much trouble—’
I put a finger to his lips.Beneath my touch his lips quivered with a dictionary of unspoken words.Then he lurched backwards, raising his own hand to his mouth, half concealing a twisted expression I could only interpret as disgust.
My hand hovered in the gulf between us.I clenched it shut, wishing I could wind back the clock.‘I’ll do your hair,’ I said.
His shoulders sagged in relief.‘There’s a comb on the dresser.’
I moved to retrieve the comb, mind racing over our conversation.What had I done?Was I too forward?Had I completely misread the intimacy drowning out what little breathable air was left in the room?
No, that wasn’t it.I’d been so preoccupied with myself and my feelings that I hadn’t stopped to think of how this felt for Raleigh.For me to be forward was one thing.For me to act as I had while standing in the room he had endured centuries of torment was something else entirely.
I found the comb and stole a glance at him.He held himself stiffly, halfway between the Prince of Rostenburg and Raleigh.He could have been any village boy, unsure of what to do when alone with a girl for the first time.And when he spotted me looking, he was suddenly the stranger in my father’s drawing room, come to whisk me away to a fate worse than death.
‘You’ll need to sit.I can’t see what I’m doing if you’re standing.’
‘If I must.’He moved too quickly for me to detect.Seated, he reclined, one leg crossed over the other, and his expression fell flat, eyes cold as he tilted his chin towards me expectantly.His hands were shaking.
‘You’re all right.’I put a hand on his shoulder.Unsure what to do next, I held the comb to his forehead like an artist with a paintbrush, hoping inspiration would strike.‘What does Moira usually do?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ he bit out.‘You know I can’t see myself.’
