Page 8 of Crowned In Sin

Not everyone has made their way out yet. The hum of conversation rises from the floor, louder when people laugh. They are finishing their conversations, I think. One more story. One more promise to visit. They are not in any hurry to leave, though they don’t seem to wish to stay.

I’ve hardly stepped out onto the balcony itself when I feel it, and my lips part with a small inhale. The beat of my heart stalls before seeming to race in my chest. I feel his eyes on me again.

Pretending not to notice, I slip out onto the balcony. No one looks up at me, but why should they? They expect me to be in my rooms, being prepared for bed.

When I finally decide to look for him, I can’t see anyone on the balcony level. I let my gaze move carefully and methodically across the balcony.

There—he’s on the opposite side, his dark suit blending with the shadows. He stands in the alcove where I first saw him. Who is this man who stays in the shadows? Surely I would have met him this evening but it’s difficult to see his features.

Slowly, so I don’t draw any attention—I don’t want it now—I make my way around to the other side of the balcony. My skirts slip on the floor. I keep my breathing steady. I keep myself as calm as I can, though I know he’s been watching me all evening.

Perhaps longer.

Finally, I step into the balcony opposite the one I came out of.

Only one sconce is lit, and the man is not there. The adrenaline that raced in my veins slows. Blinking away the confusion I peer around the room.

I know where he’s gone. This is not only an alcove. The short passageway at the back leads to a small outer balcony. I follow the fresh air, and the moment I step out, he clears his throat. It’s not quite a laugh, but it’s not nothing, either. He means for me to know he is there.

I still, my body paralyzed.

The man is on the left side of the balcony. Without any sconces, his face is completely hidden in the shadows. I only manage to get a glimpse of his eyes before he turns his face and I can’t see them anymore.

Matching him, I move to the other side of the balcony. My heart pounds at the risk.

We are alone.

Yes, we are separated by several feet of the balcony, but it would only be a matter of steps.

“You’re here on my birthday,” I say. “I wonder if I saw you dancing at the ball.”

He does not answer, so I leave space for him to reply. When he doesn’t, I feel like the space has opened up for me instead. Space for me to be bold.

“You’ve been watching me.”

He does not answer still, but something in the air shifts. It seems to bend to him. A heat wraps its way around me. I know he’s there and yet he stays hidden. Perhaps he is only a squire. The thought is an unfortunate one. Straightening my shoulders to view our surroundings, I don’t try to look at the man who seems to prefer to be hidden.

I shouldn’t be here, and for a moment, I nearly turn and make my leave. Instead, I speak freely since he speaks not.

“Since you’ve been watching, you must want to know more about me. I am terribly sorry to disappoint you, but there’s not much to know. I live my life before the court, and I rarely share my thoughts. I’ve been waiting a year for a marriage proposal, or for my father to tell me he was making arrangements, and just tonight, he said he was going to.”

He is so quiet. He must also be discreet, because I have hardly seen this man. A shadow can’t be obvious.

He must have intended to stay hidden.

I don’t know what it is about him, but I feel I can say anything.

“Just after my father and I danced to open the ball,” I continue, feeling a rush of relief. “He said this would be the year he would make arrangements for me to be married. But no potential matches have presented themselves. My father has not come to me with suggestions. It seems there is no interest.”

He says nothing and only listens, but he shifts his weight slightly. The thoughts in my head were merely fantasies, weren’t they? This man does not want me. I have simply imagined it. With a shallow breath, I prepare myself for a confession I could not even tell Isabel.

“So tonight I thought about it for every second of the ball, and I decided it does not matter if there are no princes who would have me. Because perhaps I do not want to be married. I don’t want to be controlled. I don’t want my father to choose a man for me. I don’t want to discover too late that my new husband wants to dress me up like a doll and pose me every minute of the day. I want to control my life. It is mine, and I should get to control it. Perhaps my husband…perhaps he could control me in bed. I think I would like that,” I finish and cannot believe that I was bold enough to say it.

I peer at the man who remains deathly still.

For a minute, I can’t breathe. What I want could be standing only steps away. What would happen if I went to him? Touched him? Lifted my face up for a kiss? We are alone and secluded, and if anyone is looking for me, we still have time before we could be discovered.

Would he be willing to give me what I want?