Light burst over them, like a revelation of sin. Nigel yanked back from soft flesh and scented hair, turning his head. He stared into the eyes of Luna Talbot. Standing directly in front of him, pale as a ghost. And every superheated part of his body froze.
The moment lasted for a small eternity. Then, with a sudden surge, his heart relearned to beat, and Nigel gasped. Dropping the warm thigh in his grip, he backed away until he hit the opposite wall. His collar was suddenly so tight, he wondered if someone had exchanged it for a noose.
“I—I’m sorry!” Luna stammered. Her gaze flicked briefly to Bryony before landing on Nigel again then straight to the floor. Nigel couldn’t read her expression. Not with the dull thaumatic light bulb shining behind her and her face hidden in shadows. “I—I didn’t mean to . . . That is, carry on. With what you were doing. Don’t mind me.”
Shoulders hunched, she ducked through the space between Nigel and his date, like she was running a very small gauntlet.
“Miss Talbot,” Nigel gasped.
She halfway hesitated. Then, with a short shake of her head, she hurried on, retreating from the dark passage out into the crowds and noise and smoke and jazz of the Rowdy House.
“Well!” Bryony laughed, adjusting the strap of her gold gown slightly. “We certainly gave her an eyeful! It’ll be good for her, I trust. Poor little Luna. She’s such a hopeless prude. The way she strings along that hunk of a wardsman of hers, gods! It quite breaks the heart!” Tossing her curls, she closed the few steps between her and Nigel, eyes sparkling in the light from the ladies’ room. Worrying her lower lip, she walked two fingers up his chest and took hold of his tie. “So, Mr. Grimm. Where were we?”
A strangled, wordless sound broke from his throat. Nigel turned sharply, yanking free of her grip, and stumbled down the passage. The noise of the crowded main floor hit him like a wall, but he pushed out into the indistinct masses. His eyes narrowed, peering through the cigarette haze in desperation. He must find her. He must find Luna. He must explain himself to her, somehow.Whathe would explain, he couldn’t say. It wasn’t as though Lunacaredwhat he did or with whom he did it. Right?
But somehow . . .
. . . that look on her face . . .
. . . it had seemed . . . it had almost looked like . . .
Nigel tripped on someone’s foot, staggered sideways, and fell against someone else. “Whoa, mate! Had one too many, have you?” a gruff voice barked, and rough hands shoved him away. Nigel fought for his balance, only to find himself halfway tripping out onto the dance floor. There flailing bodies jitterbugged in time to wild music. An elbow found his ribs, a knee made contact with his hip, but he pushed on, searching, desperate.
Abruptly, the song ended. All the dancers ceased their flailing to applaud politely, and with their whirling and twirling momentarily paused, they created a clear path of vision through their midst. Clear enough that Nigel could see straight through to the other side of the floor, to where Ward the Wardsman stood beside the little booth table, his brow wrinkled with worry.
Luna appeared suddenly at Ward’s side, manifesting through the smoky atmosphere like a phantom out of fog. Nigel’s heart leapt. He’d found her! His mouth opened, her name on his lips.
Even as he watched, Luna slipped her hand behind Ward’s neck, pulled his head down, and planted a kiss on his mouth. In that same moment, an oboe began to sigh, accompanied by a deep thrum of bass, while a crooner poured out his voice in deep, throbbing tones:
“We shared secrets in the dark,
Every glance igniting sparks,
But now you’re lost in another's gaze,
While I’m drowning in this haze.”
Nigel felt the axis of his world tip. He watched Ward—surprised, but not about to let this opportunity pass—wrap his arms around her and kiss her back with great enthusiasm, lifting her right off her feet.
Even then, Nigel took a few steps forward, the urge to go to her, to reach her, to speak to her so strong. But what was he going to do? Wrench her from the arms of her date? What right had he to treat her so rudely? She wasn’t some object over which he and Ward could fight like two snarling dogs. She was a whole person: a perfect, beautiful, adorable person. And she could kiss whomever she liked.
Someone bumped into him from behind. Nigel staggered a pace, caught his balance. Then he shook his head and, with awrench, turned away. He wove through couples, even as the crooner sang on:
“Oh, love! Like a rose in the rain,
Each petal a sigh, each thorn a sweet pain.”
He had no idea where he was going, what he was doing. His feet seemed to have developed a will of their own, and they carried him through the throng. Voices punctuated the air all around him, saying things like, “Are you all right, mate?” and “You look like you’re having a spell,” and “Oi, fellow, maybe you should sit down?” But he ignored them all.
Achieving the exit at last, he stepped out from the noise into the wintry quiet where only Bert the Bouncer stood. The big man cast him a sideways glance. “Had enough fun for one night?” he rumbled.
“Yeah.” Nigel swallowed hard, pulling at his noose-like tie again. “Yeah, something like that.”
He made it a few paces down the sidewalk before his knees gave out. He sat down hard. Right there, in a patch of muddy snow on the curb. Some dull part of his brain realized he’d left his overcoat inside somewhere. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing at all.
After what felt like a very long time, he realized he wasn’t breathing and dragged a gasp that sounded like a sob into his lungs. It hurt. But he held it for a little while before releasing it slowly, watching the pale vapors dance before his lips.
It wasn’t like it was asurprise, Luna’s preference for John Ward. She’d made her feelings evident since Saint Jollify. That might not even have been their first kiss, merely the first Nigel had witnessed. It certainly wouldn’t be their last. Grimacing, he bowed his head and tangled his fingers in his hair, pulling at the roots. What an absolute fool he was. To let himself be takenaback like this, when he knew—heknew,damn it—how much she liked the man.
