Bella stared at the pattern in the wood floor. A craftsman with exceeding talent had inlayed a fleur-de-lis in each square. The shapes went in and out of focus.
“Drink up, now.” Mrs. Poole pressed the cup to her lips.
Bella dutifully took a sip, and then another, the cold water helping to clear her head and bring her eyesight back into focus. “I can’t do this.” She pushed the cup away. “I can’t go out there and pretend that I’m some debutant or, or princess, or something equally impressive.” She turned her pleading eyes on Mrs. Poole, begging her to let her out of this night.
Mrs. Poole looked her over. “Well, you certainly look like one.”
Bella grabbed a handful of skirt and shook it. “This isn’t me. I have knots in my back because I earned them hunching over books and the computer and legal forms. I wear my hair in a knot—a literal knot—that I hold in place with a pen!” She was warming up to hysterics, but she couldn’t seem to pull back. “Up until I started working here, the wealthiest people I knew were characters in books.” She struggled to her feet and pointed to her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t even know this person.”
“Ah, now.” Mrs. Poole smiled reassuringly. “You’re still the same person. A dress doesn’t turn you into a stranger.” She fussed with the fabric, fluffing it out as if it weren’t poufy enough. “And Mr. Moreau didn’t ask this woman to a ball, now, did he? Hmm?” She lifted one eyebrow. “He asked the woman with knots in her back and her hair. Won’t he be surprised when he sees you?”
Bella pressed her fingers to her cheeks. “What if he’s not?” she whispered her biggest fear.
“Now we’re getting to the heart of it.” Mrs. Poole pecked a motherly kiss on her cheek. “If he doesn’t, you tell me, and I’ll make sure he has cold dinners for a month of Sundays.”
Her threat made Bella smile. She’d truly found some wonderful people in this old, drafty castle. “Thank you, Mrs. Poole. You’ve given me the courage to go dancing.”
Mrs. Poole grinned. “Nah, you had it in you all along. You’re the bravest girl I know.”
Bella smiled and did a final check in the mirror. She may not know this version of herself, but she didn’t hate her. In fact, she might just grow to like her. She started towards the door, careful to keep her steps measured. She had a long evening on her feet, and she wasn’t going to put any of that in jeopardy by twisting her ankle in a carpet.
The question that hung in the air, following her around like one of those thought bubbles in a cartoon, was,What would Adam think?
She knew exactly why she cared so much about the answer: because she cared about the man. Her admiration of him had grown, and she was quite sure she loved him. His touch made her pulse race and his smiles, so rare for the rest of the world but easily shared with her, melted her insides and made her knees weak. She wouldn’t be able to leave him when the contract was over, and she hoped that tonight, he would ask her to stay.
With that thought as her captain, she made her way to the ballroom.
Chapter Twenty-One
Adam
Adam hovered near the ballroom’s grand entrance. With the wide doors thrown open, the room appeared as large as a circus tent. But there was nothing tawdry about this space. The twelve crystal chandeliers had been imported from France. The three fireplaces were bought in 1792 after the French Revolution when the Chateau de Chambord was left to rot. The walls were covered in cream linen with scenes from the French countryside done in satin.
The lights had been dimmed to a romantic level, akin to the soft glow of candlelight. Delicate music filled the air. Nothing loud or pulsing with a heavy beat, but the kind of music that floated through the room, touching on your consciousness like a hundred feathers falling through the air. The notes tickling his anticipation to hold Bella in his arms.
Adam had loved this room as a child. He’d run in and hit his knees, sliding across the polished floor like he was careening down a Slip ’N Slide. Tonight, he felt every one of his years and every bit the grown man whose heart hung in the balance.
The soft sound of Bella clearing her throat brought him whipping around. He stood there, his tongue glued to the top of his mouth and his brain unable to form a thought. His head was empty. The man who could tear apart an argument in the courtroom without batting an eye was officially tongue-tied.
Bella’s hands went to her stomach, pressing flat and splaying her fingers. Adam’s gaze drifted from there up to her large doe eyes and then dropped to her delicious mouth. She bit her bottom lip, looking nervous and vulnerable.
All at once, he knew what he needed to do. He had a purpose. “You look stunning.”
Bella’s hands dropped to her sides, and her lips twitched into a smile that was his and his alone. “You too,” she breathed. Her eyes danced. “I mean, you look handsome.”
He strode quickly to her, the pull between them more than he could resist—as if he wanted to resist. He took her hand, her delicate, beautiful hand, in his, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He wanted this woman. He wanted her heart. He wanted her lips. He wanted her body and her mind and her thoughts and her time and her complete and utter attention. Being deliberately slow, so that he could remember each and every moment and so that she would understand how completely, how entirely, and how utterly enchanted he was by her appearance, he bent at the waist and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
A small gasp escaped her lips, telling him she felt the electrical current between them too. She must feel how right this was, how they were meant to be together. She hadn’t said the words, neither had he, but he planned to. Tonight. Bella’s head would not grace her pillow without his declaration of love to carry her there.
Straightening, he tugged her softly, bringing her body flush with his and his arm around her back. He stared into her brown eyes, taking in the swirl of emotion and the way passion weighed down her lashes. They brushed against her skin as she glanced down, causing his thoughts to skip across the dancing and move on to the kissing.
Man! He wanted to feel her velvet lips move beneath his. Heaven. He couldn’t rush this night. No, Bella deserved every bit of romance and wooing he could muster. She wasn’t a fling. Wasn’t a woman to kiss and forget. She was the forever kind of woman. Once she gave her heart, it would be his throughout eternity. If she loved him, if her eyes spoke the truth and if she was brave enough to speak the words, he would do all in his power, give up fortune and prestige to have her if need be. All that he had, all that he was, was nothing if he couldn’t have her.
He just had to find a way to tell her that. “Would you like to dance?”
She nodded, her lips catching between her teeth once more. This time, Adam didn’t hold back. He gently tugged her lip free with his thumb and then traced her jaw line. She sighed into his touch, accepting him. The honesty in her expression was almost too much. What man could live up to the expectation that came with that look?
He may be doing her a disservice by offering himself, his heart, to her tonight, but he’d be tossed into the gutter before he’d give up the opportunity. God had given him a chance that no law degree or court case would ever provide, and he was not one to waste an opportunity.
