“John stirred. I sat with him until he slept again. I thought I would wait just in case he didn’t settle. I must have dozed off.”
“You’re tired. You’ve been working hard. I can sit with him. I’ve had enough rest now,” Lydia suggested.
“I want you to know that I am not taking this lightly.”
“I know you’re not.”
“Lydia… I’m sorry that you have been deprived of your dream. I hope you realize that I did not do this to punish you,” he said.
The candid nature of his words surprised Lydia as did his openness. It was almost as though the night had cast a spell on him.
“I know you didn’t. It was the best thing for John, and I am glad that I have been here for him.”
“Because we have both suffered. Neither of us would have chosen this life. I know you must resent me.”
“I resent the situation. I resent thetonand their judgment,” Lydia replied.
“But not me.”
“As you say, we have both suffered.”
“But you have suffered more than I. You lost your dream. I have never had the luxury of having a dream.”
Lydia furrowed her brow.
“Surely, you must have had a dream, even as a child.”
Victor shook his head.
“I was never particularly good at being a child. My uncle was right. I was always in too much of a hurry to grow up, always trying to take things too seriously…” He sighed. “I have only ever tried to make a success of myself in life, but I have failed. If I had a dream, it was to protect my family, but my father is dead, my brother hates me, and you… you are an illusion.”
There was a dreamy, hazy look in his eyes as he reached out to her. His fingers slipped through the shadows like a serpent in the sea and then brushed a lock of hair over her ear. It was the same tenderness he showed to John. Lydia felt a tingling warmth run from her ear all the way down her arms and the core of her body.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she was almost afraid to stare into his eyes, but she did so anyway, and she was caught in their intense, brooding focus. His breath was heavy and rhythmic. It flowed out and his hand lingered against her head, his fingers gently stroking her ear, and suddenly they were closer than ever before.
“I am no illusion,” she whispered back.
She wasn’t prepared for what happened next. How could she be? Her heart raced, and the room seemed to melt away. She did not think of Stonewood Manor or theton. She did not even think of John. She thought of nothing but Victor, who loomed before her and filled her vision.
The chair creaked as he leaned towards her, his powerful body angling, his face getting closer. Lydia felt her eyes close automatically, just as they did in all the books she read. An exhilarated feeling swept through her. It was excitement. It was fear. It was confusion. It was joy.
It was everything.
And then his lips brushed against her, and a fire was ignited, far more powerful than the embers that glowed in the hearth. His lips were warm and tender. His breath was sweet. Her mouth puckered as she caught his lips in hers for just a moment, but then his hand fell away from her ear, and his head tilted back. He nestled into the chair, his eyes closing again, and Lydia was left there alone with the echo of his kiss upon her lips.
She was forced to wonder if it had happened at all.
His breathing became heavy. Lydia traced her lips with her fingers, as if to confirm that it had indeed happened.
She had just kissed Victor.
The moment had happened without warning, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt. There was no dizzying, giddy eruption of happiness nor was there disgust.
It was more that she was intrigued. She sidled out of the room, leaving Victor and John to sleep. She pulled the door behind her and then pressed her back against the wall.
Her lips would never be the same again.
Lydia stumbled back to her chamber and pulled the covers over her, trying to understand what this meant.
