Page 38 of An Enchanting Dare

“You can be my friend, but… I’d like you to be more than that.”

He took a step away from her with a muttered curse, pacing and raking a hand through his hair.

Aisling’s heart dropped. “Oh.”

His head snapped up. “What do you mean, ‘oh?’”

“Nothing,” she said, to cover her embarrassment, though her cheeks were burning. “I thought… But that’s silly, isn’t it? Now you know everything about me—”

Before she could say another word, Sylvester closed the distance between them, hauled her into his arms and kissed her so hard her wits scattered in all directions. She whimpered as her knees threatened to buckle, and his arms firmed about her. His tongue plundered mercilessly, and his hands dropped to her hips, pulling her tight against him until she had no doubt of the effect she was having on him. Finally he pulled back, his eyes dark with wanting, his chest rising and falling too fast.

“Little idiot,” he muttered, but with such affection, Aisling could only smile, though she wanted to weep. How could she have hated this man so much, have wanted so badly to get away from him when, all the time, he’d been the one trying to save her? “We need to talk.”

He looked so worried for her, so determined to do whatever he could to protect her, that she nearly crumbled, but that wouldn’t do. Not tonight. Tonight she must face up to the mess she’d made, to whoever thought they knew what she’d done. If she could make them go away, she would. If not… well, she’d cross that bridge when she got to it, but she could hurt no one else. Not even to keep her family’s name from scandal.

“We do need to talk,” she agreed. “But the guests are arriving now. After the ball. I’ll meet you down by the river. Once everyone is gone.”

Sylvester nodded. “If that’s what you want, but I’m here, Aisling. I’m not going anywhere. If you need me tonight….”

Aisling smiled, buoyed by the realisation that her mother was right. She didn’t have to do this alone.

She kissed his cheek, lingering there for a moment as he let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she whispered, and hurried off to help her parents.

Half an hour later and Aisling's face was stiff from smiling and she was desperate for a drink, for her throat was parched. How strange that she had once longed to stand here with her parents as they greeted the endless parade of glamorous guests and now… and now she just wanted it to be over. Sooner or later, her accuser would be here, and she would face them, and now she was certain of that fact she could not wait to get it done. Yet friends and relations and neighbours came and went and….

“Monsieur Le Comte. How delightful to see you. I’m so glad you could come—”

Aisling heard her mother greeting Louis César, but there was a buzzing in her ears and her heart was slamming against her chest. A hazy sense of unreality settled over her, like when she had eaten those strange mushrooms that Biddy said would help her dream walk. There were three men with the comte and one… no… no… that was impossible. He turned then, his gaze meeting hers, and Aisling’s blood ran cold.

“What is it?”

Louis turned to stare at Barnaby, who had asked the question. He, in turn, was regarding Maxwell. The Earl of Vane was staring at someone on the other side of the ballroom with a puzzled expression.

“Who is that?” he murmured, though he appeared to be talking to himself.

“Who do you mean?” Louis asked.

“That young woman?” Maxwell demanded, gesturing across the room.

Louis looked at the woman in question. She was slender, with dark gold hair, and an uncompromising, rather fierce expression. A handsome young woman, striking rather than pretty. Her nose was a little too big, her mouth settled in a rather mutinous pout, and her thick brows were drawn together, and yet these rather discouraging aspects came together to produce a face full of character. She would not be another dull, simpering debutante, that was for certain.

“I do not know the young woman, but I believe she is Miss de Beauvoir, the adopted daughter of the great scientist, Mr Inigo de Beauvoir,” Louis said, regarding the earl with interest. “Why? You are interested in meeting her?”

Maxwell frowned. “No. At least… I don’t know. Only she seems familiar.”

“Familiar? Where from?” Barnaby asked, but Maxwell was already moving, towards the young woman as she walked through the crowd.

Barnaby looked to Louis and shrugged, his naturally jovial expression fading as Kilbane moved past them into the ballroom. “He’s not supposed to be here. Did you see the Earl of Trevick’s expression when he saw him?” he whispered as they also made their way through the crowded ballroom.

“I did, but it is not so easy to turn away a titled gentleman. Especially when there is the possibility of causing a scene.” Louis inspected the crowd. He didn’t much care what Maxwell and Kilbane got up to. He had two objectives this evening, to help Barnaby make headway with Lady Millicent and….

His heart did an odd little jump in his chest, a reaction he had become familiar with of late. But, oh, God, it had been so long since he had seen her. He smiled, unable to help himself as he saw Evie standing with Lady Rosamund Adolphus and another young woman he did not recognise. Evie was telling them a story, and her friend’s attention was absolute. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, and he could tell she was getting to the good the bit for she was trying not to smile and failing, showing the dimples in her cheeks. Whatever she said next had her friends roaring with laughter as Evie looked on in triumph, pleased with herself for having entertained them. It was hard to breathe, hard to look upon her and want to be with her so badly when he did not know how long he must wait.

“Louis, do you think…?”

With difficulty Louis tore his attention from his beloved and turned to Barnaby, realising too late he was still smiling like a fool.

Barnaby was no longer looking at him, though. He had turned to stare at Evie in astonishment. He turned back to Louis, eyes wide. Louis’ heart gave an uncomfortable thud.