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He stared at her unsmiling. “In case I forgot to mention it, I’m paying for your dress.”
“Oh, but—”
He interrupted her with a sharp gesture of his hand. “No buts. You’re doing me a favor.”
She didn’t even try to argue. It would have been a lost cause.
For the second day in a row, they took a cab over to Old Town, presumably because Ian thought they should show up for their fitting fresh and not sweaty from walking across Edinburgh. The Duffys were waiting with smiles and sly comments about the handsome couple. Mr. Duffy took Ian off to one side of the room. Mrs. Duffy steered Bella toward the other.
The minuscule dressing room Mrs. Duffy offered so proudly barely allowed Bella to turn around, but she managed to disrobe and slide the dress over her head. Though it was not finished—the hem had to be finalized, and the sleeves as well—Bella was stunned at how the elderly seamstress had so accurately pegged her figure.
The fabric was black silk Crepe de Chine, high quality and beautifully lustrous. The dress skimmed Bella’s curves flatteringly, but stayed well within the bounds of what would be considered appropriate for a palace visit. The simple scoop neck and long sleeves were modest in the extreme. The cut of the dress and the way it draped Bella’s curves gave a far different impression.
A hidden side zipper snugged the dress at her waist. Black jet buttons at the wrists and at the back of the neck added a touch of glamour. Bella flung open the door and pirouetted in front of the mirror. “I love it,” she said. “You’re a genius.” She had always rued her unabashedly feminine curves, but this dress made her look truly stylish.
While Mrs. Duffy pinned the hem and the sleeves, Bella shivered, excitement and anticipation bubbling in her veins. Despite everything that had happened, this ceremony in which Ian and others were to be honored would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Mrs. Duffy looked up from her position on the floor. “Did ye bring yer high heels, lass?”
“Yes, ma’am. They’re in my tote.” Bella was released from her fitting long enough to rummage in the bag for the required footwear. The shoes were old but not worn… classic black pumps with a narrow heel. She felt like a kid playing dress-up when she looked in the mirror.
Mrs. Duffy stood and examined Bella’s reflection, her lips pursed as she concentrated. She tugged at a shoulder seam and smoothed the bodice. “Well, lass, what do you think?”
“I adore it,” Bella said. “I feel like a queen myself.”
“Yer the kind of woman who’s a pleasure to dress. Plenty of curves to add interest to the picture.”
“Thank you for the compliment. I have to give the seamstress all the credit, though. I’ve never had anything fit me so well.”
A tinkling bell sounded in the distance. Mrs. Duffy went to the front of the shop to deal with a customer, leaving Bella to take one last look in the mirror. It was true. She did feel special. No wonder all those Hollywood types had designers on speed-dial when it came to red-carpet events. Nothing off the rack could compare to this kind of fit and detail.
She was about to step off the raised dais and return to the dressing room when curiosity got the best of her. Moving slightly, she peeked in the mirror and caught a glimpse of Ian on the opposite side of the room. Her heart stopped for three long beats. He looked magnificent. Even in his usual attire, he was striking, but now, wearing a tailor-made tux, black cummerbund, and snowy white shirt, he was nothing short of spectacular.
Luckily for her, his attention was focused on the old man. Otherwise, Bella’s face would have given her away. It was difficult to parse the emotions that curled in her stomach and gave birth to the lump in her throat. Desire. Wistfulness. Distress. Yearning. Surely somewhere in that avalanche of feelings was a strain of common sense.
It wasn’t news that she had fallen hard for Ian. Back in London he had hordes of women literally chasing him down and giving him their lingerie and room keys and undying devotion. Even a man who professed not to enjoy the limelight had to be flattered by the attention, albeit reluctantly.
Before she could retreat to the tiny closet that passed as a dressing room and turn back into Cinderella, Ian half turned as if he knew she had been watching him. Their gazes clashed in the mirror. The masculine visage gave nothing away. His jaw was firm, the planes of his face taut as though indicating his bare tolerance for the formal wear and the fitting itself.
What was he thinking?
Her heart beat rapidly, her breathing shallow. What would it take to tame a man like Ian Larrimore? Was there anything in the world with the power to coax him? At this very moment he seemed almost a stranger, a younger, sexier James Bond ready to take on the world. His incredible intellect and powerful body could handle any dangerous situation.
But did he know anything about love?
Even at this distance, she felt his pull like an actual touch. She wanted to throw herself at him and beg him to be normal and boring and hers. That, however, was not in the cards.
It cost her, but she managed to break the visual standoff. Once in the protective confines of the changing room, she leaned against the wall and put her fist to her mouth, breathing shakily. Tears sprang to her eyes. She wanted him so badly, but she was terrified of getting hurt.
No one in her life had ever loved her the way she needed and wanted to be loved. Her father had been a selfish and controlling man. Even Finley, whom she adored, had abandoned her and fled to Scotland when she was not yet sixteen. In all fairness, his father and stepmother had treated him abominably, but still…
Bella knew what it was like to be alone. It was possible to exist in a fancy house with servants and everything a young girl could possibly want and still be achingly lonely.
What was she going to do?
At long last, the interminable fittings were complete. The Duffys promised to have the finished garments delivered to Ian and Bella’s hotel the following morning, hours before the actual ceremony.
It was disorienting to step back outside into the bright sunlight after spending time in the dim confines of the tailor shop. Neither she nor Ian spoke as they began to stroll up the hill. They stopped momentarily along the way and bought meat pies and sodas from a street vendor.
