Page 25 of Bound By The Christmastide Moon

Mallory clamped her eyes shut tightly. She could not bear to see what came next.

One minute, there was nothing but frigid December air surrounding her, and the next…her head was swimming. Though not due to being knocked senseless, as she was still upright. Despite her eyes remaining closed, she knew she was not on the ground. However, she was pressed against something solid

Lifting her hands, Mallory ran her fingers across a smoothly muscled chest and continued upward to graze taut, broad shoulders.

Lord Lichfield’s.

Mallory titled up her chin ever so slightly, suspecting if she opened her eyes—which she certainly was not prepared to do—she’d stare directly up into intense blue pools.

Her lips parted, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but the words never made it to her throat as Silas’s warm exhale cascaded against her cheek, banishing any cold that lingered within her.

He was so close. There was no need to open her eyes to see that his mouth was only an inch from hers. She could all but feel him.

“Thank yo—”

Her appreciation for his quick movements to steady her was cut off when his lips captured hers. Blessedly smooth, strong lips. Warm. Eager. Moist.

This…this physical connection wasn’t anything she’d allowed herself before. There was too much risk.

As if on cue, she opened her eyes, and they immediately began to cloud. The edges of her sight blurred at the same time she raised her hands from Silas’s shoulders to cup his face.

Damnation. If she were going to be cursed with a vision at the exact moment of her first kiss, she would at least enjoy the feeling of him for a brief instant. Even through her gloves, she knew his skin was smooth and firm across his angled jaw.

His mouth danced across hers.

Mallory’s entire body trembled, and his sinewy arms came to wrap around her waist, catching her before her knees collapsed beneath her, bringing their bodies ever closer.

The vision was upon her. Her head began to spin, and nothing before her remained in focus. His lips caressed hers, the warmth of his arms held her tightly to his chest, and his woodsy scent filled her other senses.

Space…she needed distance to collect her thoughts, banish whatever horrid vision was struggling to capture her, and—

The late-morning air filled with the acidic smell of fire.

Mallory released her hold on his face and stepped back at the same moment his arms fell to his sides.

She pivoted quickly, her heart racing from their embrace as she blinked several times to clear her sight. Smoke billowed through the cracks of the partially hidden door to Felicity’s laboratory.

“Felicity!” Her dear friend had been working in her lab when Mallory left her to seek a few private moments in the garden. Felicity had been combining one liquid element with another in her quest to bring back the countess. “We must help her.”

Her knees, trembling when she’d been in Silas’s hold, strengthened as she raced toward the door.

Chapter 11

Silas followed closely on Lady Mallory’s heels when she took off toward the smoke—and a red slatted door, the paint chipped off at the bottom to reveal the aged wood behind thick strands of ivy. It hadn’t dawned on him that anything was amiss—besides his forwardness in stealing a kiss from his betrothed—until she pulled back, and he was able to take the lead and draw his first deep breath since capturing her in his arms.

Smoke, thick and dark, clouded his vision and clogged his lungs as he ripped the door open and proceeded up the steep, narrow steps as hard packed dirt turned to stone. The smoke thinned when he traveled farther up the stairwell as great billows of it escaped downward. There was no need to glance over his shoulder and risk tripping up a step; he could sense Lady Mallory’s presence at his back, though she moved a bit slower as she climbed. When she’d disentangled herself from his embrace, he’d noted the familiar darkening of her eyes, much as they had on their first meeting.

Yet, there was no time to think about the peculiar way the light grey orbs had turned a tumultuous charcoal, nor could he allow his attraction to slow him down.

Someone was in trouble, and he must needs make certain they were away from the fire causing all the smoke around them.

When he reached the top step and pushed into the room, halting, Lady Mallory bumped into his back but quickly steadied herself on the railing.

“Where was she?” Silas squinted as he inspected the hazy room, attempting to locate the source of the fire—or, more importantly, Miss Felicity, especially if she were injured and needed help getting out. “Are you certain she was up here?”

The room was lined with workbenches stacked high with large tomes, several lying open as if Miss Felicity had been reading them recently. Another long, low table with an empty stool was arranged with several glass bottles of varying sizes and shapes. On yet another, jars lined the surface holding god knows what sort of foreign things. The smoke came from a stout glass container filled with a bluish-green liquid. The fog rolled over the top in dense but waning clouds and then floated upward.

“She was there,” Mallory said, pointing over his shoulder at the far workbench, but Miss Felicity was nowhere in sight.