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Women in this day are bolder. Act like a harlot would in your day, and you should fit in. That is to say, don’t shy away from meeting his eyes. Don’t be scared to tease him and flirt. He’ll expect you to be bold. Fearless.
With Madame’s words of knowledge bolstering her, she stepped forward and entwined her fingers with his. “Come with me, Thomas. Shall we share a drink?” She dragged him behind her, making sure to sashay her behind just like her sisters did. At the sound of his indrawn breath, she bit back a smile. He tightened his grip on her, his arm brushing hers.
Heart racing, she towed him to where the wine sat. She’d need to loosen up a bit to fool him into thinking she hailed from this time. Though she should run away without delay, the night carried the possibility of bringing her fantasies to fruition. In this very room, the man she’d pined for, the one she’d yearned to have, stared at her with hunger. Thomas wanted to make love—with her, of all people.
Who would’ve guessed it?
“So, Eleanor, tell me, where are you from?” He grabbed the wine, a brow raised as he grabbed the corkscrew to open the bottle. He studied the object, flipping it in his hands, and then put the sharp, twisty blade in the cork.
She could almost hear his thought process as he compared the modern version to the ones they were familiar with. He tossed a smile over his shoulder and poured two glasses. Giving one to her, he motioned for her to sit down on the couch. Once she did so, he sat so close beside her that their legs touched. The heat from his body pressing against hers caused her to tremble and almost spill the wine over the rim, even though he’d filled it only three-quarters full.
“I’m from London. My family has an estate out near Devon, but we seldom use it.” Eleanor sipped her beverage, proud of her response. She sounded so…sophisticated. One would never guess she hovered a mere second away from exploding with anxiety. “You?”
“I live far away. I’m in town for a night, and then I return home.”
Now, that was an understatement if she’d ever heard one. Two hundred years away, to be exact.
She held back a trill of laughter at his perfect reply. Clients were urged not to reveal the truth of their origins. Most people remained unaware of the joys of time-traveling—and the company preferred to keep it that way.
She licked her parched lips. “Oh, is that so? How fortunate for me to have the pleasure of meeting you before you leave.”
He studied her mouth, and her insides clenched at the dark hunger she saw within. How was it possible that he could be so ravenous—for her?
“Indeed, how fortunate. I almost backed out, thinking it silly of me to do something so frivolous. Then, I thought, perhaps it could be an interesting diversion for the night.” He finished his wine, and she hurried to follow suit. He refilled her glass first, then his, before turning to face her. His lips turned up at the corners, and she took another taste to steady her nerves. “I daresay it might end up being much more than a simple distraction.”
Her heart skittered to a stop, and she choked on her wine.
Dear God, does he know who I am?
He set his drink down, plucked her glass out of her grasp, and placed it on the table next to his. His brow crinkled with worry, he pounded on her back. The force behind the blows made her stumble out of the seat, so he gripped her elbows to place her on h
er feet before repeating the action. She didn’t know which made it harder to get air into her lungs…the wine or his “help.”
She waved at him and croaked, “I’m fine.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Are you alright, La—Eleanor?”
“You know?” He’d almost called her by her title. How had he figured out the truth? She stared straight ahead, scared to look at him, and stepped out of his arms. “H-How do you know?”
He frowned. “I know? What did I say, Eleanor?”
She realized her lapse in judgment before he finished speaking. He hadn’t known she was a lady—he had just slipped up by addressing her as he was accustomed. She choked on a nervous bubble of laughter. His brow arched, so she coughed to try and disguise her laugh under the after-effect of choking on wine.
He hadn’t the foggiest notion about her true identity. He’d called her Lady out of habit. Not knowledge. Stepping closer, she smiled up at him and brushed a finger down the curve of his jaw. She’d always wanted to do that. Always wondered what the stubble on a man’s face might feel like against her skin.
It felt sinfully delicious.
She let her arm drop back to her side. “What I meant to say was, do you know how...nervous I am? I’ve not done this before, you know.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Me either. My wife died not long ago, and I thought this a good way to start my life anew. Odd as it might sound….” His voice drifted off, and she swallowed hard. Her memories of his deceased wife were few and far between, but she had been gorgeous and popular among the ton. Everyone had loved her.
The complete opposite of how Eleanor would describe herself.
She captured his fingers and squeezed. “It must be hard to move on. I can’t imagine.”
“It’s hard.” He pressed his lips together. “Have you ever been married?”
Her heart twisted at his simple question. All she’d ever wanted was for someone to love her. And a few children to squeeze and kiss. She didn’t ask for too much…did she?
