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“Rune.” His name into his neck dampened the skin under her lips.
“Yes?” The word so rough, it was barely audible.
She pulled back slightly, the back of her head hitting the tiles on the wall behind her as her right hand moved to flatten on his chest and she found his eyes. “That piece of me that you stole, what are you going to do with it?”
He paused, still, for an extended breath. Then his lips went onto her brow, silent for long beats of his heart she could feel under her palm. “I am thinking to hold onto it for as long as I am able to.”
Silent, her forehead sank forward, her cheek resting on his shoulder.
She had no commitment, no promises in response to his words.
Because promises only brought pain.
Promises created futures that could be destroyed far too easily.
{ Chapter 16 }
Leading Elle onto a tiny open corner of the dance floor, Rune’s finger slipped under the back of his cravat to itch his skin. He’d always hated the damn things—not born into them as Des and Weston were. Those two had always worn the finery at balls and house parties with ease.
He avoided the blasted events when he could, and it was mostly because of these overly starched scraps of cloth wringing about his neck. A noose aching to tighten. And he wouldn’t even entertain the idea of wearing gloves, no matter how the absence of them drew looks.
“Did I tell you on the way here how splendid you look in full dress?” Elle spun to her right and centered herself in front of him, dipping downward as he bowed to her.
His mouth pulled to the side and he shook his head as the music started and he set his right hand along her back.
Her hand clasping into his, a teasing grin came to her face as their feet started with the first strains of music from the strings in the minstrels’ gallery. “I do find it curious that you just happened to pick up appropriate clothing for this event from the tailor when you were in Newport. There was a bit of arrogance in that.”
“Was there?” The edges of his lips lifted. “I am here to protect you, if you recall. I imagined I was coming one way or another.”
“Whatever it was, I admire the self-confidence in your own charms.” Her grin grew wider. “As it was dark in the carriage, it was hard to tell, but under the ballroom lights my initial thoughts have been verified.”
“What thoughts are those?” He pulled her toward him to avoid her bumping into a tall lady clad in green swinging wide in her dance steps—foxed or exuberant, he couldn’t tell.
“From when I first met you—that your presence at a party like this I never would have missed.” Her forefinger popped out from his clasp on her hand and pointed in a circle about the brightly lit ballroom. “And I’m not the only one. Have you seen the salivating looks coming your way?”
A chuckle burst from his lips. “Salivating? A bit of an overstatement.”
“They would be salivating if they knew that not only are you handsome to look at, every single imagination they’re having about what’s under these clothes and how your body works is true.”
“Don’t make me want to leave early, Elle.” Shaking his head, he attempted to ignore his cock sparking to attention. He had more immediate concerns—like angling her to the side as their space on the dance floor shrank farther and father. Damned crush. Hopefully Elle only promised Lord Kallen she would dance one waltz. Though Rune quite understood why Kallen wanted her on his dance floor. She floated, so smooth on her feet it was as if he maneuvered a fluffy cloud to and fro.
“What if I want to leave early?”
Minx. The sheer scamp on her face was laughable and made him start seeking out the exits of the ballroom, looking for a dark corridor to pull her into. If he was handsome in full dress, she was an utter goddess. Her body slid into a gown of satin in the darkest shade of celestial blue that matched her eyes. The bodice of the gown was finished with silk trimming, so light it whispered against her skin. A matching silk scarf was wrapped delicately around her neck and tied jauntily at the side. Not exactly common, but it did serve the purpose of hiding the bruises that still marked angry welts at her throat.
Welts that sent his blood raging every time he caught sight of them.
She had gone with a simply adorned cap with several matching feathers—small enough it did nothing but accentuate the deep browns and reds in her hair. How she had managed to get such intricate weaves into her hair in the short amount of time they had to get ready after arriving back from the Roman baths, he didn’t know. Her maid had to have magic flowing from her fingers.
He stretched his neck against his cravat again and forced a scold onto his face to counteract the mischief bouncing about her eyes. “If we leave early then Lord Kallen will never address me again. I actually got two words of greeting when we arrived.”
“You two are fast on the way to becoming the grandest of friends.”
“Or something akin to that.” Rune looked about the ballroom at the couples dancing with them in the middle of the crush. Every man and woman in the room had dressed in the finest of fashion, as far as he could tell. The amount of feathers flittering in the air above them from the headdresses was comical.
“Tell me of this scar.”
His gaze snapped down to her. “What?”
