Chapter 9
Oh my. This is exactly what I approached him for, but I still didn’t fully believe it would happen.
Between the spilled wine and the laundry, I was lulled into thinking the conversation would continue to oscillate between a little infuriating and a little flirtatious, but all our clothes would stay on.
It seems I was too na?ve to read his cues.
He’s incredibly attractive. Intimidatingly, undeniably attractive.
Even with the minimal contact of my hand resting on his muscled forearm, and the occasional brush of our hips, tingles spread over my side.
I glance at his fingers, long and elegant, curled loosely against his stomach.
He’s so tall. I picture him using those ringed fingers to tip my chin up to his.
We pass the first landing. Laughter leaks through a cracked door, low and tangled with other sounds I recognize from the powder room.
Will it be as desperate and wild as what I witnessed? Will I make sounds like that? This man is supposed to be very skilled. I have to imagine whatever pleasure there is to be coaxed out of me, he knows how. The thought makes my heart hammer, my blood heating.
Still, I’m nervous. As soon as we’re alone in his room, this civil energy will change.
We reach the second landing. The hallway of doors stretches ahead.
“Wait.” I tug my hand free from his arm and he stops. “I need a moment. Before we…”
“Before we what?”
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out. He waits.
“I just want to discuss expectations,” I manage.
“Expectations.” He says the word back to me, slowly. “For what, exactly?”
“For where you’re taking me.”
“And where do you think I’m taking you?”
I gesture to the rooms down the hall. The obvious conclusion. He follows my hand, and when he looks back at me, the corner of his mouth is doing something I want to slap off his face.
“I wasn’t planning on that tonight.”
I blink. “Then what are we doing here?”
He pauses a second, considering. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Looking for someone?” All those furtive glances. “Is that what you were doing in the kitchen? The laundry? Every woman you stared at?”
“Yes.”
“And what about my night?” The question comes out hotter than I intended. “I had my own plans for this evening.”
“What plans?”
The last thing I want to do is name what I approached him for. “That’s not your concern.”
“You brought it up.”
“I’m saying you’ve taken my time.”
“What were you planning to use that time for?”
I clamp my lips shut. A slow smile spreads across his face.
“If you can’t even say it”—he leans in—“I don’t think you really want it.”
He turns away from me and strides to the window at the end of the corridor, leaving me with my fists curled at my sides and my cheeks on fire.
Annoyance flares, alongside embarrassment.
It makes sense that I wouldn’t be his chosen lover, given the crowd of beauties throwing themselves at him.
I must have been the most inexperienced among them.
But that doesn’t mean I wanted to be dragged around the manor all night while he looked for a better option.
I should just slink away to nurse my injured pride. Instead, I stalk after him. Maybe it’s the way we met, or maybe it’s the mask, but something about tonight is making it harder for me to keep a leash on my reactions.
I stop next to him at the window. Voices and faint music rise from below. I follow his eyes to a terrace and recognize some faces. It’s the staff party. A footman leans hard into his fiddle.
But I wasn’t invited, and I channel every bit of annoyance at my exclusion toward the lord next to me.
“I don’t appreciate being used. Even if you didn’t want me, you didn’t have to lead me around while you looked for another woman to share your bed.”
He finally flicks his eyes to me. “Is that what you think?”
“What else would I think? Your reputation…”
“My reputation is not an accurate guide to my evening plans.” He straightens and his hands go into his pockets. “I was looking for someone, but I didn’t find her. It has nothing to do with sex. And I would rather not discuss it further.”
I open my mouth to push. Something in his calm expression stops me. It is the first time tonight he has not deflected with charm.
“But I can see that you are…passionate about finding someone who shares your evening plans. Let me make up for the time I’ve taken.” His tone is light. “I’ll help you find a suitable lord. And then you can not tell him what you want to do on Somnus.” He offers his elbow.
I cross my arms.
“Come on.” His mouth curves up. He curls two fingers around my hand and guides it to his arm with a featherlight touch. “I’ll let you call this one a kidnapping.”
I should say no. I should go back to my room, lock the door, and count the hours until my prophecy.
Instead, I let him lead me toward the stairs. We descend to the main floor and rejoin the crowd.
He leans down so I can hear him. “If I’m going to help a woman into someone else’s bed, I should at least know her name.”
I consider making something up. A common name, something forgettable. But every lie I add is one more thing to keep track of. “It’s Somnus, a night of secret identities. So I’ll keep my name to myself.”
“You know mine.”
“You should have worn a better mask.”
“Fair enough. I’ll remember you fondly as the woman who ruined my jacket and wouldn’t apologize.”
“I did apologize.”
“Barely.” He slows his stride. He points out a broad-shouldered man in a blue mask. “Do you like him?”
“No.”
He gestures to a tall figure with blond hair and a pleasing face, leaning against a column. “Him?”
“No.”
“What about him?”
“No.”
“You didn’t look that time,” he chides.
“I could tell without looking.”
“Such high standards,” he chuckles.
I only want you. I can’t bring myself to say it and face rejection again.
Our route takes us past the gaming room. Shouts and laughter pour from the open doorway. Norville is at the center table, his grin wide.
Alaris slows, then stops. “Ah. Now here is a room of interesting characters. I bet there is a way to get a better view.”
The whole wall is paneled. He runs his hand over one section, then a second, then a third, unhurried, until a corner sinks under his fingers with a click. The panel swings open.
He gestures for me to look inside. A passage threads between the walls, leading to a tight staircase.
“How did you find that?” I ask.
“Gaming rooms often have a spot like this,” he says. “It’s how lords cheat at cards.”
He leads me up the staircase to a narrow room, the air stale and thick with dust. The only light comes through a lattice grate. Alaris peers through it a moment, then steps back and cocks his head toward it. “Have a look.”
I creep closer to him and stand on my toes. Through the slats, I can see the gaming room below. Norville sits at the center, flushed. He slams his cards down on the table. The men around him shout and jostle.
“Anyone down there catch your eye?” His low voice washes over me.
“No.”
“No one at all?”
I squirm. “No.”
All I can think about is my arm tingling with awareness of how close we are in this small space. The air next to him is cool.
“Are you sure you are committed to these plans of yours?” he teases, his voice not unkind. “At this rate, we’ll be at it until morning.”
Now I’m the one wasting his time. I suck in a breath and step back from the lattice. “I suppose I give up. Tonight was just a rare night of freedom. My only one, maybe.”
His eyebrows go up. “Only? Why?”
“It’s…complicated. I have other responsibilities.”
“Such as?”
I close my mouth, wishing I hadn’t said anything.
“I’m a stranger on Somnus,” he coaxes. “Why hold back?”
I know he’s talking about my truths, but his words thrum in my chest. Why hold back?
I’m alone in the dark, in a very confined space, with the only man I want tonight. The only man I ever remember wanting like this. So what if he rejects me? So what if it doesn’t go the way I imagine? I’ll never get this chance again.
Why hold back?
“Regardless of your reasons, you are making this sound very urgent indeed.” He turns to the lattice. “I insist you look again. Because I am not leaving this night with debts to a woman who won’t even give me her name.”
I step closer to him, noting the difference in our heights. “I don’t think what you said is true.”
“Which part?”
My heart pounds a quick tempo as I inch even closer.
“You said if I can’t say it, I don’t really want it.” My shaking fingers find his collar, drawing his attention to me. “But I do.”
I pull him down and kiss him. His scent hits me. Cloves. Something green and cold beneath it, like stone after rain. And underneath that, something masculine I can’t describe that makes me grip his shirt even harder.
His whole body locks, rigid.
I pull back, and our eyes meet. His are wide and black, swallowing all the light in the small space. Is he going to make fun of me? Or step back and reject me?
Then he inhales sharply. He threads his hands through my hair, pulling my face to his. And his mouth collides with mine.
His kiss is totally different than my clumsy first attempt. His lips are cool, but they shoot warmth through me. His mouth moves, hungry and desperate, devouring mine. His tongue slides across the seam of my lips and they open, and he drinks me in deeper.
We weave and part and meet again. I would have thought a man with his reputation would kiss me calmly, but he kisses me like he’s dying for it, and it lights me on fire.
His hands run over my waist, then my hips, and I grab fistfuls of his shirt because my legs have stopped working.
When his teeth graze my bottom lip, I gasp against his mouth, and he swallows the sound.
He lifts me off the ground and whirls me, pinning my back into the passage wall. His hand goes to my jaw, changing the angle of our kiss, giving himself better access. I can’t get enough of his tongue on mine, tangling it with my own.
His knee nudges mine apart and slides between them, holding me up. The pressure there blooms into the same sensation I felt in the powder room, and my hips lean into it instinctively.
I cannot think. I can only hold on as his mouth moves to my jaw, my neck.
I tip my head back against the wall and make a sound I have never made in my life.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, trying to pull him even closer as he licks and bites the sensitive skin below my ear.
His knee and the wall behind me are the only reason I am still standing.
His hands find the back of my dress, fingers tracing the lacing down my spine, and I arch into him, wanting more. The ribbon on the back of my head sticks on the lattice, tugs, then pulls.
The mask slides off my face and clatters to the floor.
At the edges of my vision, I note the black curls retracting. I glance down as my opulent blue skirts disappear, the leg between mine now draped in plain black velvet.
But the sensation is no less delightful. I press into it and chase his mouth with mine.
He freezes.
I blink and he’s as far away from me as the space will allow, flattened against the opposite wall.
I stumble, trying to recover my balance without him holding me up. I put my hand to my bare face, remembering myself. Of course he’s startled. The woman he just tried to undress transformed into someone else.
“Sorry!” I say quickly. I swallow. “Sorry about that.”
His chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes glinting.
Is he disturbed I have a magical object? “The mask isn’t mine. It only lasts the night—” I take a step toward him.
“Stop.” He puts his hand up, halting me. He runs it through his dark hair once, then again.
“I didn’t mean to trick you…”
“No, it’s not…it’s not that.” He rubs his eyes and drags his hand down his face. “Other responsibilities,” he mutters to himself. He shakes his head once. When he drops his hand, his jaw is set. “You’re the governess of this house. I saw you on the stage, with the children.”
“Yes.” I guess I was right. He was looking at me.
He takes a slow breath. When he speaks again, his voice is lower and the ease is gone from it entirely. “You aren’t safe here.”
My skin goes cold. It’s like he’s read my mind, and the fears of these last few weeks are finally validated. “What?”
“You aren’t safe here. There is a history of young women disappearing from this household. As soon as I saw you on that stage, I knew I needed to warn you. I’ve been looking for you all evening.”
I’m the one he was looking for? “What are you talking about?” I let out a laugh, stilted. I search his face for the joke, the angle, the lordly game.
“How long have you been in this manor?”
“A few weeks.”
“Haven’t you noticed no other young women work here?”
That stalls the next word on my tongue.
“The local families know well enough not to send their daughters here.” He steps forward, the light through the lattice crossing his face. “So you must not be from around here. You came from the road. Or the river.”
It wasn’t a question, and his correct guess chills me.
“You’re not safe here, especially around Somnus. You need to leave.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“I’ll help you. We can take my carriage.” He offers his hand.
I tense. He expects me to just believe him, and go with him, without a second thought? “Why do you care?”
“Do I need a reason to save a beautiful woman’s life?”
I narrow my eyes. “And if I weren’t beautiful?”
“Beauty isn’t a condition of my help. It’s the reason you’re in danger. If you weren’t beautiful, he wouldn’t have noticed you.”
My skin prickles at the word “he.” I take a second to put together who he might mean. “Lord Norville?”
He nods, his gaze unyielding. All sign of the smiling lord, his every word flirtatious and playful, is gone.
This whole situation is too strange. His urgency and determination for me to leave are too strange.
His reputation as a womanizer was intriguing under soft candlelight, but pushing me to leave with him in the darkness feels ominous.
And he wants me to believe that Lord Norville, the man who took me in, who gave me work, who promised to read my future, is dangerous? That I should abandon the one thing I came here for and leave in the middle of the night with a man I met only hours ago?
He lowers his hand. “You don’t believe me.”
I draw back against the wall. “I don’t know you.”
“I’m only trying to help.”
“I’ll be going now,” I say firmly, my sense of self-preservation overriding any sense of adventure this lord inspired in me.
“Then be careful.” His dark eyes glint. “And if anything changes, find me. I’ll be in the guest wing until morning.”
I start down the narrow stairs. My hand finds the wall in the dark.
“I didn’t get your name,” he says, from above me.
I don’t look back. “No. You didn’t.”