Page 18 of A Midwinter Wager

Chapter 11

Cesca was surprisedto find Alicia wasn't the evil looking harpy she'd conjured up in her mind. The girl appeared taller, more elegant, and considerably more grown-up than she had six months ago. But despite her having evidently developed an eye for style, Cesca thought her silk gown and turban a little too lavishly bright, and the gown decidedly too low-cut. How could Papa possibly have approved? Then, her breathing achingly shallow, Cesca looked at Fitz.

He cut the same dashing figure as ever. With an agonizing contraction of the heart, she knew her feelings for him were undiminished.

Her current dancing partner—a darkly handsome fellow by the name of Captain Brandt—was forgotten as she drank in the sight of Fitz, his dark blond hair bronzed by the candlelight. His broad shoulders and upright carriage marked him out as a demigod among mere mortals. Her heart flared like tinder in a furnace, and her dancing became that of a string-less marionette, relying on Captain Brandt to guide her where she needed to be.

Then the music ended, and her partner made his bow and retreated. Alicia, suddenly spotting Cesca in the crush, caught Fitz by the arm, and steered him in her direction. The urge to run was only just suppressed; to cut her stepsister in such company would do her no credit, and Papa would be furious when he heard. So, she pasted on a smile and kissed the air either side of Alicia's face and invited her to join their party.

She had to greet Fitz too, or risk Lady Widbrook’s displeasure, but when she looked up into his face, she discovered she was mistaken about him not having changed.

He'd changed a good deal.

A livid scar bisected his left eyebrow, stopping just short of his eye—a badge of honor from Waterloo, perhaps? It didn't spoil his looks, though. In her eyes, it enhanced them, making him look harder, more virile, and more commandingly masculine. Despite the softness of the candlelight, she could see that the lines on his face were deeper, giving him a forbidding look, but his general aspect was flat and lifeless, and his mouth an unsmiling slash.

But as he looked at her—really looked at her—a fire kindled in the depths of his blue eyes. A fierce flame, stoked by fury. Why was he angry with her?

Shocked, she collapsed back into her seat and took a hefty swig of her mulled wine. Alicia talked at her after that, but she had no idea what was being said. She could feel Fitz's presence, more powerfully than she'd ever felt it before, and it cowed and crushed her, leaving confusion in its wake.

Did he still love her? Did he now hate her? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that she couldn't breathe when his eyes were on her. Her equanimity didn't return until he excused himself and stalked off in search of Lady Widbrook.

Throughout the rest of that painful evening, Cesca did her utmost to appear unmoved by the presence of both Fitz and Alicia. She made every effort to simper, to flatter and to flirt with any eligible bachelor who happened to speak to her, or dance with her. Yet all the time, she could feel Fitz's brooding presence and knew he was watching her.

He must know she was avoiding him, and understand the reason, but surely that wasn’t enough to put him in so black a mood? She knew he'd only done what he thought was the right thing in courting Alicia. She understood the amount of pressure he'd been under from both her father and his own. But it was impossible to forgive him when he offered nothing but hostility.

“Excuse me, Miss Heathcote, but I think it unwise to dance more than one waltz with the same gentleman.” Fitz must have grown tired of challenging her at a distance. He’d decided to do it at close quarters.

She gaped in surprise, and her partner, Captain Brandt, looked daggers at him. Fortunately, everyone else was too absorbed in the dance to notice the brief battle of wills that ensued. Brandt’s face paled, but after a moment, he smirked at his rival and said, “Be my guest. Unless the lady objects to your appalling lack of manners. I, of course, am used to them.”

Fitz’s head went back as if he’d been struck, but he held his ground, gazed coolly at his opponent and slid his hand around Cesca’s waist. Too stunned to object, her gaze locked with his and she barely noticed Brandt’s exit as Fitz swept her back into the dance.

He was fire and ice, his anger burning with a cold flame that threatened to freeze the blood in her veins. She couldn't drag her eyes from his face, and the heat of his hands branded her body, searing away her will.

She could find nothing to say. Even if she had found the words, her tongue would have stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her eyes must do the talking for her.

And then she realized he wasn’t angry at all. The lines on his face were the scars of fundamental unhappiness, and the rigidity of his body was an effort to keep control.

He bent his head and whispered, “I missed you so much. I needed you more than you can ever know. Why did you run away?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long. I thought you’d write and we could work out what to do.”

“You could have written to me.” He twirled her around in time with the music, his touch hard, uncompromising.

He was blaming her? She’d done nothing wrong. Nothing. Her jaw tightened.

“What, write to my stepsister’s betrothed?” That wouldn’t just be improper. It would have made her look like a love-sick fool, chasing after the man who’d abandoned her.

His fingers tightened their grip on her waist, pulling her closer. “I’m not engaged to Alicia.”

She missed her step. “You’re not?”

“How could you doubt me? I’m only squiring her tonight to protect her reputation. But the pressure on me to marry her has not eased one iota. Where in hell have you been, Francesca?”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She’d just trodden on another dancer’s foot. “I… I… we can’t talk here, Fitz.”

“Later, then.” He squeezed her hand, and she felt the pulse of his touch throb through her entire body. She’d tried to tell herself she could manage without him, but now he was near, her need was so fierce that it threatened to engulf her. She gazed up at him, hoping against hope that he still wanted her.

His eyes told her all she needed to know.