Page 58 of A Stranger’s Promise

He crept into the room and carefully set the package on the table before tiptoeing to stand behind her and slide his hands around her waist. She started, but he quickly pulled her against his chest, then dropped light kisses on the curve of her neck. Her pulse quickened beneath his lips.

He inhaled the perfume of her hair, whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

She tensed. “My—”

“Alistair,” he cut her off. “My Alistair.”

“My Alistair,” she repeated with a breath of a laugh.

His name upon her lips sent a shiver of desire through him. He sucked her earlobe between his teeth. She shuddered.

“Say, ‘my darling Alistair.’ I like that even more,” he murmured.

She laughed and, suddenly, he wanted more of her. He pulled pins from her hair, freeing her silken curls to tumble over her shoulders, then turned her in his arms. He took her lips in a sweet kiss, tender and passionate. She closed her eyes and moaned. She fit him perfectly.

He broke the kiss, then tenderly kissed each of her eyelids, and said, “I must ruin this time between us.”

She went rigid, her full, dark lashes flying open in alarm.

“Hush,” he assured her quickly. He rubbed his cheek against hers. “I merely meant these moments of intimacy…will now be more difficult. When an official courtship begins, they will hound us with chaperones. They will expect things done in a proper fashion.”

She didn’t relax as expected and, to his surprise, she flattened her palms on his chest and pushed him back. “How can I allow you to court me? Lady Cassilis was right.”

He lifted a brow. “Now that is a name I didn’t expect to hear.” He gathered her close in his arms once again. “Pray tell, what did she say?”

“There are those born to sit in the Blue Drawing Room,” she whispered, her hazel eyes large, “and those who are born to clean it.”

He studied her face, searching for the right words, then the soft refrain of a waltz filtered through the window. He smiled, then whirled with her in his arms.

Alistair nuzzled her ear. “That may very well be, my dear. But it matters little, for you were born to dance in it.” He kissed her again, tenderly, then slowly stepped back. “Please, Charlotte, accept me. Accept my courtship. Dance with me tomorrow in the ball. Wear your dress, your crimson gown. I beg you.” Her brow wrinkled, signaling a response he surely wasn’t inclined to hear. He shook his head. “Think on it. Give our love a chance, Charlotte. I will not hear your answer tonight.”

He planted a kiss on the top of her head, then left with a heavy heart, fearing she would, indeed, refuse him on the morrow.

* * *

The day of the ball dawned. More guests arrived, making Alistair feet like a stranger in his own home. He escaped the whirlwind of color, music and lights to brood in his study. Charlotte had yet to hunt him down and give him her answer. Was the delay a good sign? A bad one? Was she avoiding him? She must have decided to refuse him and, if so, how could he change her mind?

Sometime later in the afternoon, a brooding Nicholas arrived at his door. “What ails you?” he asked, inviting himself in to sit before the fire.

Alistair heaved a sigh. “Last night, I asked Charlotte for the honor of courting her.” When the baronet didn’t reply, he glanced up to find the man staring at the fire, lost in thought.

“There’s little cause for you to fret, my dear fellow. It’s plain for all to see you are besotted with one another.”

It was a heartening answer. Still, he found it hard to let himself be comforted. “I fear she is trapped by the rules of society.”

“Trapped,” Nicholas repeated in a rough voice.

Alistair cocked his head to one side. “How goes it with you? Is this woman still hellbent on blackmail?”

“Woman?” his friend exploded. “Nae, she is more of a scheming, twisted she-devil.” He closed his eyes and added so softly that Alistair could scarcely hear him, “I’ll handle it. I always do.”

“Aye,” Alistair replied, but when Nicholas refused to explain further, he let his thoughts wander once again to Charlotte.

Was it good…or bad that she hadn’t yet arrived to speak with him?

Nicholas stood. “We make a merry pair, hiding in the study on the day of a grand ball. Come, let’s busy ourselves away from our thoughts.”

Against his better judgement, Alistair followed.