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There was no time to scream.
No time to jump back.
No time to do anything but throw up her arms and squeeze her eyes shut.
Without warning, two strong arms wrapped around her waist and yanked her backwards. She found herself falling, but instead of landing on the icy ground and being run over by a cart horse, she landed safely atop a firm, muscular body.
“I say,” remarked one of the gentlemen who had been imbibing in whatever liquor the flask contained, “that woman almost died.”
“Are you all right?” The words, gruffly spoken in Alexandria’s ear, stopped her heart–and when Duncan sat up, still holding her tight against his chest, it began beating at a frenzied pace.
“I…I…”How,she wanted to ask.How are you here? How did you save me?Then again, he’d always had impeccable timing. “I don’t think anything is broken. You…you can let me up.”
But instead of releasing her, his grip tightened. He rested his chin on the top of her head–she’d lost her hat in the confusion–and set his legs slightly apart so that she was nestled right in the middle of his lap. It was the closest they’d been in months. Since everything began to unravel, like a loose thread. Slowly at first. So slowly you didn’t even notice. Then all at once, there was a hole in your pocket and the more you pulled on the thread the larger the hole grew until the only thing to be done was to cut off the entire thing and mend the hole with new thread.
Alexandria stiffened, her muscles going taut as she resisted the temptation to melt into him all over again. Into his handsomeness. Into his strength. Into his dark allure. Bystanders who had paused and watched were now walking past as if nothing had happened, but her memory wasn’t so easily erased.
“Let me go, Duncan.” Her voice was soft, but the command was there. Steel slicing through velvet.
Warm breath fanned across the nape of her neck as he lowered his head, his mouth a hair’s breadth from the curved shell of her ear. “What if I don’t want to let you go?”
She squirmed in his arms. “That is not your decision to make.”
“I am your husband.”
“When it suits you.”
“Alexandria–”
“People are beginning to stare,” she hissed, and they were. “We’re causing a scene.”
He helped her to her feet, but the moment that she had her balance she yanked her hand away and hid it under the folds of her cloak. The handkerchief she’d bought for her mother was gone, no doubt snatched up by an opportunistic pickpocket. But she spied her hat a few yards away, its plumed violet feather easy to spot against the backdrop of white.
“Here.” After following the direction of her gaze, Duncan retrieved the hat and held it out. But when she went to grab it, he held the headwear just out of reach. “Let’s find somewhere we can converse in private. There’s a tea shop around the corner.”
She began to tap her foot on the ground. “Can I have my hat, please?”
He arched a brow. “Have you always been this stubborn?”
“You are my husband. You should know the answer to that.” Anger pulsed in her tone like a slap of red in the air, but underneath the anger was a forest green sweep of regret. “That you don’t says all that needs to be said between us. My hat, Duncan. I’ve other places to be.”
“Is this what it feels like, then?” he asked, his countenance markedly somber as he gave her the hat, crumpled on the side with the feather slightly bent.
“What doeswhatfeel like?” she asked, dusting the felt off on her skirt before tucking it under her arm along with her muff which, thankfully, hadn’t suffered the same fate as her mother’s present.
“Being left.”
“Yes,” she said, eyeing him warily as she searched for an ulterior motive hiding amidst the unexpected empathy. “Yes, it does.”
“I am sorry, Alexandria,” he said simply. “I hadn’t realized.”
In the middle of a busy thoroughfare, with people all around and garland draped on windowsills and bells ringing, she stared at her husband. And for the first time in far too long, he stared back. The music and hum of voices faded away. The holiday decorations blurred. Surrounded on all sides yet impossibly alone, Alexandria and Duncan gazed at each other. They gazedintoeach other. And in that moment, they both saw a glimpse of what might have been if things had turned out differently.
“Alex,” he said huskily, reaching for her hand. His thumb brushed across her knuckles, then settled on the wild flutter of her pulse and the delicate web of blue and purple veins. “Why don’t we–”
“I cannot,” she burst out, yanking her arm away and stumbling back into a lamp post. “Please, Duncan. I…I just cannot.” Turning, she bolted into the crowd.
* * *
