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“You really are trouble, aren’t you?” he asked, sinking his hands into his pockets.
“Hello to you, as well,” I murmured, heating under his gaze. “I didn’t know you would be here.” His eyes roamed my face, down my bare throat and to the neckline of my dress where the swells of my breasts pressed with each breath.
“I was invited. I am sure you can imagine by whom.” There was a playfulness to his tone. I colored, anger fizzing inside me.
“Oh? And are you here to be Greta’s escort?” My tone was too tense, carried too much bite. My teeth found my lip, and I wrung my hands in agitation. I willed myself to be more collected, but Mr. Blackwell only chuckled, reaching out to brush my cheek with his fingertips.
I shivered under his touch.
“I suppose I am, does that bother you?”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact it does! If you are not interested in her, then why do you continue to string her about?” I demanded, my tone hushed as the last of the people made their way to be seated. William pushed off of the threshold, a wickedness in his features.
“I originally accepted Mr. McCloude’s invitations as a means of business. I had not realized how they’d evolved. Perhaps I’ll dance with Greta tonight.”
Something in my chest cracked open and I frowned, bringing my arms tightly around myself in some sort of attempt to shield the way I was falling apart.
“Perhaps, Miss Abbott,” William leaned in, his cool breath tickling my cheek. “Perhaps I’ll dance with you as well.”
I sucked in a quick breath, William sauntered down the aisle to find a seat amongst the pews. I stood dumbfounded for several moments before the pipe organ began and I scurried to my parents.
During the reception, as the band played in the bride’s parents’ home, Greta continued to glare daggers at me as she’d done in the ceremony. Our parents had not once gathered for drinks and gossip, which was utterly alarming.
But when the evening neared a close, the sky bathing indigo outside the windows, William took Greta’s hands and danced.
The only thing I heard during that dance was the beating of my own heart, and throughout it all I could not take my eyes off his graceful form. I did not see if Greta was smug, or even flustered. I only saw him. Only watched as he looked over her head at me, as he stared so blatantly it warmed me.
When the song ended, he didn’t so much as bow to her before making his long strides toward me. I stared at him in shock, didn’t believe he’d really meant what he said for fear of causing any more drama and commotion than we had. When the band struck up the next song, he whisked me into his arms and twirled us onto the dance floor, a collective gasp from those watching.
One hand rested on the small of my back, pressing my body into the length of his as the other hand held one of my own up, tightly. His scent enveloped me, a wintery musk, clouding my head as I placed my free hand on his powerful shoulder, feeling the muscles flex under his jacket as he whirled us gracefully with the music. His smile was devilish, he was clearly pleased with himself.
“Don’t look so struck, I said I’d dance with you,” he murmured over the music. His voice, so close, so smokey, his body pressing into mine, I could barely manage to swallow. “Where’s that feistiness now?”
“I…I hadn’t anticipated you meant it,”
“Thank you for letting me know about the McCloude scheme, poor Greta left after she saw me grab you.”
“What of your partnership?” There was no one else in the room, only the music, only him.
“Business is business, Miss Abbott. Try as he might, he won’t be able to get out of our deal so easily.” His eyes danced with laughter, lighter than before. Had they always been so light? “I never got to tell you who I am interested in.”
“No, you didn’t…”
He leaned in, so close it would no doubt be the talk of the town for the week.
“Aren’t you dying to know?” he whispered against the shell of my ear. The proximity set my body aflame, I stifled the moan I felt building in my throat. I never felt more alive than in this moment.
“Yes,” I said in a hushed breath, not trusting my own voice. I felt him smile against my ear before he swung me out and away from his body, into a spin at the exact moment the music died. We had been the only ones dancing, everyone staring at us with shocked expressions.
Mr. Blackwell bowed, dropping my hand and briskly brushed past an angered Mr. McCloude to the exit. I’d barely recovered.
The memory plagued me, and it was all I could think about in the carriage on the way home from town after Katherine’s interrogation. The carriage rocked back and forth to some unsteady rhythm, throwing me this way and that while the thunder banged loudly off in the distance. Rain pelleted the roof, the eerie whistle of wind broke through the safe confinement of the walls and sank deep in my bones. My candles were hard to keep lit, and the horse jerked often, whinnying with frustration.
I tried to remind myself why I was doing this. I didn’t want to spend another Christmas sulking. How could we continue in that way? I needed to get everyone in the spirit, and if it meant enduring the gossip of the town, and this eerie ride home, soaked to the core, I’d do it. I feared losing my father if things continued down this path, especially if his relationship with Mr. McCloude was going to deteriorate.
The rain pounded harder, becoming near deafening. Every other year we had been knee deep in snow by now, and I missed the windowsills outlined with frost. I sighed and held tighter to my seat.
So suddenly I was unable to catch myself, we were jerked forward to a stop. A yelp escaped as my head banged against the wall in front of me. I sat up, my palm finding the throbbing knot which formed on my forehead, and another loud and unexpected crash echoed through the forest. Our horse whined impatiently, and I knocked on the front toward Samuel.
