Page 10 of To Steal a Kiss

Matilda turned to her and smiled, wiping her eyes on the handkerchief Alice had given her.

“Midnight, of course.”

“Of course,” Alice repeated. “Well, then. Come along, Empress Matilda. You need to guide me to my illicit rendezvous.”

Matilda snorted. “Empress?”

Tugging her friend to her feet, Alice nodded. “That’s what you looked like, facing the marquess. You looked like an empress and, believe me when I tell you, he saw it too.”

Matilda gave a mirthless laugh. “No, dear Alice. The marquess looks at me and sees something far beneath his notice, something to be ground beneath his heel because I’m unimportant to him. I’m worthless to a man like him, I can assure you of that.”

Alice shook her head and grasped her friend’s hand. “You’re worth a thousand of him, Tilda. It’s probably why he’s so hateful. He knows it too.”

***

“Through that door, Alice.” Matilda gestured to a shadowy room that lay beyond the half-open door. Gauzy curtains billowed on the warm breeze, the rippling fabric beckoning her forward. “You’ll find the glass doors open out onto a balcony overlooking the side of the house. No one in the gardens can see you because of the trees. I’ll go to the end of the corridor. I can see the stairs from there, so if anyone comes up, I’ll have plenty of notice.”

Alice nodded… at least, she thought she did. Her body seemed rather numb, a little slow in obeying commands. As she moved, one foot in front of the other, her limbs felt awkward and heavy, as though she’d forgotten how. Her heart appeared to be shaking her ribs, rattling her bones like a monkey fighting to escape the bars of his cage.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Don’t forget to breathe, Alice, she instructed as she slid past the open door and closed it behind her. Was he already here? Was he waiting? Who was he, this nameless, faceless man who was to be her first kiss?

When she’d been younger, Alice had imagined her first kiss. It had always been sweet and romantic, rather chaste really. This could be nothing like that. How was there any romance in meeting a man she’d never even seen before and giving him her first kiss? There wasn’t, she knew that, and she regretted it, but that wasn’t the point. Not anymore.

Alice would never know what romance was if she didn’t stop hiding. If she didn’t learn to show her face, her heart, and her soul to another, how could anyone ever fall in love with it?

Matilda had done it. She’d shown the depth of her character by facing a man that frightened her and holding her own. In a small way, for Alice, that was what this was. An exercise in courage, nothing more. A foolish but daring act to bolster a weak-willed creature too ready to allow the world to buffet her back and forth as it desired.

No more.

No. More.

She walked onto the balcony and let out a breath of relief to discover she was alone. A momentary reprieve, at least. It was a lovely night, with a hint of warmth still to the breeze that fluttered her skirts and cooled her burning cheeks.

Alice put her hands to the railings, curling her fingers about the painted iron. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, deep breath, steadying her heart. Breathe, Alice. Slow and steady she drew the night air into her lungs, letting go of each exhalation until she felt languid and a little dizzy.

Something changed and Alice stilled. She’d not heard a sound—there had been nothing to give him away—but he was there, behind her. Alice could feel his presence, feel the weight of it in the air.

“Hello,” she said, a little surprised to discover her voice steady. All that breathing had done something to her: she felt giddy with it, lightheaded and almost tipsy.

“Hello.”

Shivers chased over her skin at the sound of his voice. It was deep and warm, and she wondered how he could make that simple word sound so seductive, or perhaps she was doing that? Perhaps it had been the same sound she’d heard a thousand times before, but here, beneath the moonlight, alone on a balcony, she heard it differently.

Alice moved, about to turn and face him.

“Wait,” he said, as she stilled at once. “Don’t turn around.”

“Are you scared to look? I’m not as unappealing as all that,” Alice said, startling herself with the clipped tone of her voice. Good heavens! Where had that come from? She panicked at once, about to apologise. Of course he might think she was unattractive. She was nothing special compared to Matilda, but—

He chuckled, the sound wrapping about her, sliding over her skin like a caress.

“I can see that much from here,” he said, the reassurance soothing her. “That’s not why I asked.”

Alice wanted to ask why he’d asked, but her last outburst was still ringing in her ears, her nerves all a jitter.

“Don’t you want to know why?” he said, reading her mind.

Oh, good Lord, that voice. She’d never heard a voice like that. It had a power all its own, like a fairy tale where the victim was lulled and bespelled, beguiled with words and charm. He was smiling, she knew it; she could hear the warmth of it within the words, hear the curve of his lips. With alarm, Alice discovered she was trembling, though her anxiety only grew as she realised it wasn’t from fear. Not even a little bit.