“Have you?” she asked, arching a brow as her slipper touched the ground. “And here I believed you a man of restraint.”
“I am,” he said, his hand settling briefly at her waist, the contact entirely proper and yet not without intention. “Which is precisely why I intervene before disaster occurs.”
Diana tilted her head, her gaze flicking up to meet his. “How fortunate for me, then, that you are so vigilant.”
“I find I am particularly vigilant where you are concerned.”
He felt her breath catch, just slightly.
The street before the theatre was alive with lamplight, wheels, and voices, but for a moment the noise seemed to fall away, narrowing instead to the quiet exchange between them, to the warmth of her hand in his and the awareness that had begun to hum steadily beneath his skin whenever she stood this close.
Alexander released her only when he was certain she had her footing, though not before his thumb brushed, almost absently, against the inside of her wrist.
“Are you cold?” he asked, leaning just enough toward her that the words were meant for her alone.
“No,” she replied, lifting her face to him with a look that held the barest trace of challenge beneath its elegance. “Though I suspectI shall be if you keep me standing in the street for the sake of interrogation.”
“Then I must correct the situation at once,” he murmured. “It would be a poor beginning to the evening if my wife were to suffer on my account.”
“And yet,” she returned smoothly, her eyes glinting now, “you do not seem in any particular hurry to move.”
His gaze held hers. “That is because I am enjoying myself.”
Diana’s lips parted slightly, caught between surprise and something softer.
“In the middle of the street?” she asked.
“In your company,” he said simply.
She drew in a sudden breath. A faint color rose along her cheekbones, and though she turned her head slightly as though to look toward the theatre steps, he did not miss the way her fingers tightened just a fraction where they still rested against his.
“You are becoming entirely too bold, Your Grace,” she murmured.
“And you,” he replied, his voice dropping further, “have yet to tell me to stop.”
She glanced back at him then, and the look she gave him was no longer entirely composed. “I am considering it.”
“Take your time,” he said quietly. “I find I am in no danger of growing impatient.”
Something flickered between them then, something warmer, sharper, far more dangerous than polite conversation had any right to be in the middle of a crowded London street.
Diana drew a slow breath.
“If we do not move,” she said, though her voice had softened, “we shall be the subject of every observation in the building before we even reach the door.”
Alexander’s mouth curved faintly. “And would that trouble you?”
“It should troubleyou,” she returned.
“Perhaps it should,” he said. “And yet I find I am more concerned with whether you are enjoying yourself than with what the ton chooses to observe.”
Her gaze held his for one suspended moment longer.
“I am,” she admitted.
The quiet honesty of it struck him more deeply than any teasing remark might have.
“Good,” he said softly.
