Page 80 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

“Evie!” He gave her a little shake, and she shook her head with a soft moan.

“H-How can I think when you do such… such… Oh, you are wicked,” she protested weakly, one hand hitting his shoulder in frustration and then curling back about his lapel.

He would go mad. “Damn you, Evie. Do you not understand how I have suffered without you? I need you. Do you hear me? I need you.”

“Do you?” she asked, reaching up to touch his cheek. He closed his eyes and turned into her caress, kissing her palm.

“Oui,” he moaned. “Don’t make me suffer this any longer, ma petite, I beg you.”

“I did not mean to make you suffer. I did not know,” she replied, her expression pained, fear flickering in her eyes.

Louis saw her fear and understood that he was overwhelming her. He ought to have taken more care, used more finesse. But all his usual wiles, as Lady Balderston had called them, had deserted him the moment he had seen her. And then she had run into his arms, and nothing had mattered but that she belonged to him. He had been nothing but want and need and the anger of being left behind, which had taken him by surprise and unleashed his desires.

“I know,” he said, gentling his voice. “And I know I… I ought to have been tender. I want to be, Evie, I will be, but I have been so wretched without you I have gone a little mad.”

“Miss Evie?”

They both stilled as a voice called outside, close to the workshop.

“They’re looking for me,” Evie whispered urgently. “I must go, Louis. If they find you here. Oh, my word, there will be such a scene!”

She pushed him away.

“Wait,” he pleaded, holding on and kissing her again. She resisted for a moment and then melted into him, pressing closer with enthusiasm, curving her arms about his neck. Louis plundered her mouth, dropping his hands to her bottom and hauling her hard against him. Her breath hitched, and he revelled in her submission to him, but even in his overheated state, he could not ignore the people outside, searching for her.

“Your kisses are not nice,” she admitted breathlessly, as he finally consented to let her go.

“I am not nice, or good, or easy, ma petite,” he said, holding her gaze. “But I am entirely yours.”

She swallowed, gazing up at him in wonder. The voice called her again, further down the street, and much as Louis wanted to consign the bastard to the devil, he knew he could not. With reluctance, he reached for the buttons on her dress and began setting her to rights.

“When are you coming home?” he demanded, too aware of the petulant quality of his voice. He sounded like a sulky boy, for the love of God.

“Soon, I think, but I don’t know exactly,” she replied, her eyes upon him as he worked at her buttons. The last one slid into place, and he settled his hands upon her hips, watching her. She avoided his gaze, stroking her hand over his chest, smoothing down his rumpled lapels.

“Did you miss me, at least?” he asked gruffly. “You didn’t say.”

Her face softened, and she looked up at him, her beautiful mouth curving. “Oh, Louis. How could you doubt it? Of course, I missed you. I missed you very much.”

Something in his heart eased a little, and he let out a breath. “If I stay here, will you come again? I need to see you again.”

She shook her head. “We’re returning to Wildsyde first thing in the morning, and there’s nowhere there I can meet you.”

He wondered if he imagined the relief in her voice, but was too afraid to question her. There was one question he would have an answer to, though.

“When he asks you, you will say no?” he queried, needing to hear her say it.

She frowned, glancing away from him as shadows passed by the dirty windows outside. Her mother’s voice spoke low, agitated, and then the figures hurried past.

“I must go,” she said, pulling away from him.

Louis caught her hand, holding on tight. “Evie, please, love,” he begged her, beyond pride, needing her reassurance.

“I won’t accept anyone, Louis, you have my word.” She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, snatched up her bonnet, and hurried out of the door.

Louis stood there, her kiss a burn against his lips, marking him as her property more tangibly than any brand she could have given him, and he realised… that had not been the answer he’d been seeking.

“I hope you’re not coming down with something.” Mama fretted as the carriage took them back to their hotel. “You still looked flushed, though you don’t seem to have a fever.”