Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DAPHNE
W hat I wouldn’t give to freeze a moment in time. To bottle it up and return to it at will. If I could, I’d go back to the moment Monty pulled me onto his lap beneath a starlit sky, his lips an inch away from my own, unmasked desire written over his face. I’d stay there, balanced on the knife’s edge between hope and disappointment, in the single, beautiful second when I was certain he was going to kiss me. To make what’s been growing between us real.
Even after the pleasure he gave me, the boundary we crossed when he touched me in front of my hotel mirror, I wanted that kiss more than anything. That deeper intimacy.
Now it’s all I can think about, even a day and a half later as Monty, Angela, and I journey our last few hours home by train. Our extended weekend is over, our goodbyes to the bride, groom, and little Tilly have been said, and I fear everything that happened at the hotel will stay there.
Despite Monty’s strange mood during the ball, he’s back to his usual self. It’s hard to believe he hugged me so tightly—a memory I cherish almost as much as my hope for the kiss that never came—with so much sorrow in his posture, so much desperation in the arms that clutched me. For endless minutes, we stayed like that. I caressed his hair, his back, while he buried his face in my shoulder and simply held me. After he finally pulled away and gently lifted me from his lap, there was still grief on his face, but he hid it behind a smile. We parted after that, with me retiring to my room and him insisting he needed to remain at the ball until the end so he could help clean up after. I was too tired to even consider going back with him, drained after my conversation with Mr. Wright. By the next morning, it was time to depart.
Even though Monty’s sorrow appears to have passed, I can’t help noticing the downward tilt of his eyes. The smile that slips when he thinks no one’s looking.
I assess him now, grinning as he sets several plates on the table before us. We’re in the dining car of the train, our destination still hours away, and Monty offered to procure our snacks. He settles into the empty chair and passes one plate to Angela, the other to me. The third he keeps and pours himself a fresh cup of tea. On each of our plates are several round, doughy treats dusted in sugar.
Angela utters a delighted gasp. “Are these Lumies?”
Monty winks. “Star Court’s specialty confection. These are extra special, as they’re stuffed with different fillings. I got them at the hotel yesterday morning but forgot about them until today. They should still be fresh though.”
Angela bites into one of hers, eyes going wide. “Strawberry! My favorite.”
Monty’s gaze slides to me, and my heart flips in my chest. It’s been like that every time he’s looked my way, the air between us vibrating with some invisible intensity. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but his breathing seems shallower whenever our eyes meet. “Are you going to try yours, Daffy Dear?” Even his voice sounds strained when he speaks to me.
I shake my head to clear it, blinking away from Monty’s storm-gray irises to assess my plate. I heard about Lumies during The Heartbeats Tour, when we were in the Star Court city of Lumenas—where Edwina and William now live. One of the friends we made during the tour, Zane, raved about Lumies and insisted we try them while we were in town. I never did.
Lowering my head slightly, I sniff my plate. Scents of sugar, cream, and something rich and savory flood my nostrils. I take up one of the dough balls and bite into it, noting how the lightly crisped fried exterior gives way to an airy interior. My second bite includes some of the filling. Now it’s my turn to utter my delight. “Is this bacon?”
Monty sips his tea, holding my gaze. “Candied bacon and maple cream.”
Angela wipes sugar from her lips as she chuckles. “Candied bacon and cream? Why did you choose such a strange combination for Daphne?”
I open my mouth to spout my love for bacon, but Monty speaks first, his eyes still locked on mine. “Bacon is Daffy’s favorite.”
My heart flips all over again. Perhaps it’s silly to feel so moved over bacon, but I am. My cheeks flush, and I hide my satisfied grin by popping an entire Lumie into my mouth at once. Monty’s lips quirk at one corner as he watches me chew my mouthful in what I know is a rather unladylike manner.
“You’ve changed a lot, brother.” Angela sips her tea, then studies him with a curious expression. “You’re quite thoughtful lately, and you weren’t at all annoying at the wedding like I thought you would be.”
She’s right. I didn’t see the side of Monty she’d mentioned on our initial journey. Yet I did get my wish about seeing a deeper side of him. I witnessed an emotional rawness, an openness, a vulnerability he hadn’t shown before. I watched tears trail down his cheeks during the ceremony. I felt his arms wrap around me in the kind of embrace I’ve never shared with anyone. I got to laugh and dance and climb upon tables with him. And then, of course, there was the mirror foreplay…
My cheeks heat, so I swallow the rest of the bite down with a gulp of tea, then fan myself as if the liquid was too hot.
“You were a respectable gentleman all weekend,” Angela says. “It was almost unsettling. You didn’t flirt with anyone, nor did you dance. Though I know how you feel about dancing.” She says the last part with a wry glance at me, as if I too know of his disdain for it. But I don’t. I’ve only experienced the opposite.
I like dancing. With you .
Angela continues. “I daresay there were several disappointed ladies who’d been trying to catch your eye all night. Yet you didn’t so much as offer them a conciliatory glance. I thought perhaps you were too distracted looking out for our dear Daphne here, but even after she departed the ball, you didn’t relax or flirt with a single soul.”
Monty’s gaze finally leaves mine as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
I, however, radiate with smug satisfaction. It never occurred to me that he might take a lover for the night after I left, but hearing how aloof he was during my absence gives me far more pleasure than I could have imagined. Even if nothing untoward happened, I know what a flirt he can be. Was he merely trapped in his sorrowful mood? Or…
That spark of hope lights in my chest again, and I try not to let myself consider what it means. How badly I want to be the reason for his restraint. But perhaps he was trying not to be an asshole at his best friend’s wedding, simple as that.
“I wasn’t in a flirtatious mood,” Monty says, his tone light. “Being someone’s best man is a serious job.”
“I suppose your work ethic has grown strong, considering you’re an employed man now. I’m proud of you.”
“My dear sister is proud of me for not causing a scandal or acting like a lecherous swine. I think I’ve earned the pinnacle of respect.”
She rolls her eyes at his dry tone, then faces me. “How did you enjoy the wedding? Did you manage to finish your illustration?”
“I made great progress,” I say, swelling with pride. After I left the ball, my mind was too active for sleep. So I stayed up and worked on my sketch of the figures. When I told Monty I needed his help finding the right pose before the mirror, I meant it wholeheartedly. Even though our activities turned to pleasure, the sight of us together is forever emblazoned upon my mind’s eye. I took that memory and sketched it. Not the part where I was a boneless mess, half reclined upon him while he worked my sex, but before that, when I first guided his hands, one lifting my hem, the other alighted upon my shoulder, his head angled to the side as he looked at me. My inspiration was stronger than ever before, and by the end of the night, I had the clean sketch perfected on my canvas, along with the background I’d sketched of the ballroom.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Angela says. “I’d love to see it! Or any of your illustrations.”
I nearly choke on my sip of tea. The last thing I want is to show Angela a sketch that was inspired by her brother in such a suggestive pose. I’m not sure either of us told her what kinds of illustrations I do.
“Sorry, Angie,” Monty says, coming to my rescue with a lie. “Daph is under contract. She can’t show off designs for the covers she’s working on.”
Her lips pull into a pout. “That’s a shame.”
“A true shame,” Monty agrees. Then his eyes lock on mine, a wicked gleam in them. “Especially since I’d like to hang her latest work-in-progress in my bedroom.”
I purse my lips to hide my smile. There’s that shameless flirt I know and love, all signs of his strange mood from the other night erased.
My heart stutters as my mind reverses, lingers.
Know and…love .
I echo the sentiment again and again, my chest tightening. Then loosening as I realize, without a doubt, that it’s true.
After we finish our snacks, it’s time to return to the passenger car. Angela goes on ahead while Monty heads to the smoking car. I, meanwhile, use the lavatory. Once I exit the lavatory compartment, my gaze snags on the passing scenery, a blur of green, gold, and blue. We’ve already entered the Earthen Court and will soon pull into Jasper City Station. As beautiful as the Star Court was—as well as the many other courts I’ve visited—I’ve always loved the Earthen Court the most. I love the lush fields, the evergreen mountains, the freshness of the air, the spring rainstorms and mild summers. I linger in the corridor and prop my arms on the windowsill, admiring the landscape.
“You’re still here.” I startle at Monty’s voice. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, but it must have been long enough for Monty to have returned from the smoking car. He strides down the corridor and stops beside me. “Watching the view?”
I nod. “I must have lost track of time.”
“Shall we return together? We’ll be arriving?—”
The train’s momentum shifts, slowing as it rounds a bend and causing the car to jolt. I stumble, my feet losing purchase beneath me. Monty’s hands come around my waist, even as he too loses his footing. We shift to the side just as the train’s motion levels out again, and Monty catches us against the wall beside the window. One hand remains braced at my lower back while the other clutches the windowsill. My back presses against the wall, his front flush with mine.
It takes me a few seconds to gather my bearings, but when I do, I notice the placement of my hands. One is pressed over Monty’s chest, splayed over the pounding drum of his heart hidden beneath his unbuttoned waistcoat. The other is clenched around his open collar. Neither of us has moved, and once again, our lips are merely an inch apart.
Our breaths mingle as our gazes tangle, neither daring to break away. The tempo of his heart increases, slamming against my palm.
How easy it would be to lift my chin and claim his lips. Why should I wait for him to do it? Why should I let him take the lead in declaring what we are, what we can be? I’m well beyond the realm of denial. Even though I told him our sexual pleasure didn’t have to mean anything—and it’s true; it didn’t have to—he’d already begun to mean a lot to me before that moment. It’s just that now I’m starting to understand the word that goes along with these feelings. With this desire.
I suck in a breath, gathering the nerve to press my mouth to his...
Then doubt plagues my heart. He could have kissed me last night, but he didn’t. Why didn’t he? I know he desires me. I felt the proof digging into my backside during our foreplay session.
And yet…
He didn’t act on that desire.
Is it because he doesn’t want to? We could have done so much more in my hotel room. I offered to, and he refused. I didn’t feel rejected at the time, but what if that’s exactly what that was? What if I make a move and he rejects me again?
I imagine leaning in, only to have him pull away. I don’t know if I can bear that pain. I hardly managed to recover from him rejecting my invitation to catch up over a meal the day he got fired. How could I handle him refusing a kiss?
It conjures a memory I haven’t thought of in a while. A ring of girls, staring down at me with terror and disgust while I wipe fresh blood from my lips. Blood from a girl who cowers, covering her ruined ear as she calls me a monster?—
Monty clears his throat and slowly steps away. Whether I shattered the moment with my hesitation or it was never there to begin with, my chance has passed. He runs a hand through his hair, tousling his pale curls. “Shall we?” A sweet smile curves his lips, tinged with shyness. Maybe I didn’t imagine that moment after all.
Maybe this… thing that’s growing between us, this emotion that’s already taken root, means to him what it means to me. Maybe he feels what I do. Maybe I just need a moment to tell him. To ask. Maybe I don’t need to brace myself for rejection.
You’re a monster. You may look like a lady, but you’re nothing more than a beast .
…Or maybe I’m just getting ahead of myself.
No sooner than we return to Angela does the train arrive at the station. As we gather our belongings, I steal a few glances at Monty. He returns them with that same shy smile he gave me in the corridor. Tenuous hope blooms in my chest. It grows as we exit the train car, and he holds my hand to help me down the steps, giving it a squeeze as I land on the platform beside him. He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “I really do want to hang your newest piece in my bedroom.”
A shudder runs through me. Why is he saying this now, when we’re in public, surrounded by passengers who flood the platform? Why couldn’t he have said this when his body was pressed against mine in the empty corridor? It could have given me the courage to kiss him like I wanted.
At least it serves to embolden me now.
“Why have just a painting when you could have the real thing?”
His eyes darken. Then a corner of his mouth quirks in a thrillingly seductive grin. “No, the real thing is too pretty for my shabby apartment.”
I arch a teasing brow. “So you’re saying my art is less pretty?”
“Not at all. I’ve seen your…art. I know how magnificent it is.”
Heat pools in my core. I don’t know if he intended to speak in innuendo, but my mind fills with the words he said to me before the mirror.
God, that’s fucking art.
Do you see that? Do you see how beautiful that is?
“Maybe I can paint something special for you,” I whisper back. There’s no denying what this is. We’re flirting. Seducing each other with our words. Words that would sound benign to anyone who overheard us but mean so much more to us. Just us. “I’d need you to pose with me again. I do have a full-length mirror at home.”
“I think I can accommodate you,” he whispers, then steps back. Angela descends the stairs and strides past us, oblivious to the secret smile we exchange behind her back.
It’s yet another beautiful moment I wish I could keep.
Another divide between hope and despair.
Before the moment is shattered with Angela’s excited squeal. “Father!”