“He makes you laugh,” Dominic replied, his tone rougher. “And he made it perfectly clear that he finds you appealing. He is likely searching for you right now, seeking out his ‘ravishing lady.’”
He is jealous.The realization struck a winding blow that, to her dismay, coaxed a snort out of her.
“Even when he is not here, you find him amusing,” Dominic said dryly, his grip tightening on the blanket, as if he thought that was the only way to keep her there.
Refusing to hide her smile, she peered up at him. “Youare the one who has amused me, thinking I have any interest whatsoever in Lord Ainsley. I find him to be the sort of gentlemen who believes he is more charming than he is. Indeed, at that pretend dinner party, I remember it being my first thought when I engaged me in conversation.”
“But… you laughed and smiled, as you have never done with me,” he said, his brow furrowed. “You were at ease with him. You seemed to enjoy your conversation very much.”
She chuckled and leaned in closer to the heat of his body. “If you were to look through your daughter’s notes, you would find a lesson about courtesy. There, you would come across the sentence: A lady must always be a polite and charming dinner companion. And yes, the conversation was not unpleasant, but laughter and smiling hardly warrants an announcement in the banns.”
He made a noise of surprise, as if that was entirely new information to him.
“I did not get to thank you earlier,” she said, her breath faintly pluming in the cold night air. “There was a whole letter that I intended to write, but there was no time. My sisters have kept me well occupied all day, as I am sure you can imagine.”
“You do not need to thank me,” he replied, as he lightly brushed a lock of hair out of her face, tucking it behind the curve of her ear.
The gentle caress of his fingertips against her skin was a lightning bolt to her senses, making her forget what she had meant to say. There was nothing but him and that tender touch, and the shine of his beautiful eyes, and the knowledge that he, of all people, had been jealous of someone like Lord Ainsley. Had been jealous because of her.
“That gown was made for you,” he said, adding with a soft laugh, “Literally made for you.”
“But it is too much,” she whispered, her grip tightening on his lapels. “The expense… I realize I cannot give it back, but it is too much. You should allow me to pay you for it.”
He let his hand cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing the rosy apple. “It is a gift.” He dipped his head. “It is a gift to say that… you have been missed, Frances.”
“You missed me?” She needed to hear it. Goodness, how she needed to hear it.
The first graze of his mouth against hers was all the answer she could have hoped for. Sneaky, perhaps, for not saying it with words, but actions would more than suffice.
His arm encircled her waist, pulling her closer, holding her as she had longed to be held. In those safe, strong arms, all of her nerves and doubts faded into the darkness of the peaceful night, and as he caught her mouth with his for a second time, she lifted herself up on tiptoe to meet his slow, searing kiss.
Clinging to him as if he were an anchor in bad weather, she knew that she was the student now, as she hesitantly kissed him back. She had never been kissed before and, for more years than she cared to admit, had assumed she never would. But as he held her close and grazed his mouth against hers with that same, teasing slowness, she followed his lead, and, soon enough, instinct kicked in to help with the rest.
She kissed him as if there was no risk in it, kissed him as if they might never leave this winter garden, kissed him as if there was no ball underway just a short distance from where they stood, kissed him as if he had promised something more. She lost herself in the moment, and was not certain she ever wanted to be found.
Her arms looped around his neck, her fingertips running through his silky, dark locks. She smiled against his mouth as she touched his shaven jaw, wondering how it might feel to be kissed when he had that pleasing shadow of stubble instead. In order to know that, she guessed she would have to be beside him for longer.
Forever, perhaps.
Just then, a shout shattered the peace. Frances jumped back as if she had been shocked, her gaze darting this way and that, suddenly petrified that she had been discovered. Not for herself, but for Juliet; her youngest sister would never forgive her, would never speak to her again if she ruined this debut and all of Juliet’s future chances in one fell swoop.
“It is just the staff,” Dominic said softly, his hands cradling her face. “The kitchens are just over that wall.”
But Frances’ nerves would not settle. She had wanted to taste freedom again, but it had soured somewhat. This was not the place for boldness.
“Nevertheless, I should return inside,” she told him, a cold sweat prickling down the back of her neck. “I said I would not be long, and my sisters will come looking for me if I stay.”
He nodded. “Harriet will also be wondering where I am.” He leaned in and pressed one last, wondrous kiss to her lips. “I am glad you came to meet me.”
“As am I,” she replied, meaning it.
“Go on,” he said with a smile, pointing his chin in the direction of the gate. “You should leave first.”
She slowly drew away from him, her heart already aching at the absence, glancing back every few steps. He had not taken his eyes off her, and though his face was half shrouded by the darkness, shekneweverything had changed between them. He had kissed her; there was no way that could mean nothing.
Perhaps, I shall be at Alderwick again, sooner than I think.
Her heart jumped at the prospect, a secret smile curving her lips as she passed through the gate and out of that private, shadowedrealm where anything and everything was possible, where even a duke who had sworn not to remarry might change his mind.
