Page 38 of Forbidden Until Midnight

And while she didn’t know ityet, he would make one hundred percent sure that she never had to worry about her mother, her brother or Edward Carson ever again. The only thing playing on his mind was that Pietro didn’t know. That he wasn’t sure that Pietro would approve. He certainly wouldn’t approve of what Santo had been wanting to do to the man’s daughter for nearly as long as he’d known her. It was the first time he’d ever withheld something from the man who had been more like a father to him than his own, and it was a twist of the knife in his conscience. But Pietro would have to wait.

Santo spotted Eleanor at the edge of the crowd, something easing in his chest for the first time since he’d left her the year before. No more would he allow so much time to stand between them. Tonight he would see to that, he was determined.

He stalked towards her slowly, guests moving from his path as he closed the distance between them, anticipation and expectation burning in his chest and scouring his veins.

He came to stand behind her, taking a moment to inhale the sweet scent of her. To know that he would wake up with it in the morning nearly unmanned him right then and there.

‘Something bothering you this evening, Eleanor?’ he asked softly.

She started, the hitch of her shoulders enough to tell him that he’d caught her by surprise.

‘How did you recognise me?’ she asked, fiddling with her mask.

‘I’d know you anywhere, Princess,’ he told her truthfully. He could be blind, deaf, his tongue could have been ripped out, but he’d know this woman until his last breath. She was as much a part of him as the beat of his heart.

‘Dance with me?’ he asked, his palm upturned, open to her.

Eleanor’s head turned half towards him, the profile of her face and the gold feather detail of her mask beautiful.

‘Here?’ she asked, her gaze locking onto his.

‘No, out in the canal,’ he teased and the edge in her eyes softened and warmed.

‘Are you sure?’ she asked, as if worried that he wouldn’t want to be seen with her here, amongst these people.

He leaned forward, holding her gaze with his. ‘Absolutely.’

A large space in the exquisite ballroom had been created for dancing—the orchestra, also masked, filled the hall with the sound of perfectly played waltzes. One piece was drawing to an end as Eleanor placed her hand in his and he led her to the centre of the room. It fitted so perfectly in his palm he almost forgot himself.

He noted a few whispers, felt more than a few gazes across the back of his neck, and hated the way that Eleanor stiffened at the feel of them too.

‘Ignore them. You are the only one that matters here tonight,’ he said as he led her to face him in a waist-hold. They stood, waiting for the music to start, and he marvelled at how right it felt to have her in his arms.

‘What is it,cara?’ he asked, noticing her gaze downward.

‘I’m not used to pretty words from you,’ she admitted with a smile.

Regret shot through him. They had lost so much time over the years, but no more. He would not, could not, let her go this time.

More and more couples filled the dance floor, but still they drew the most attention.

‘I might find such things difficult,’ he admitted. ‘But if you want them, you’ll have them every single day,’ he vowed.

She looked up at him in surprise, a flush coming to her cheeks, gold shards glittering in the deep brown of her gaze. If this was her reaction to a few pretty words, then he’d shower her with them every minute of the day.

Her gaze scoured his, as if searching his features for the truth, hoping to divine his thoughts.

‘What would you say?’ she asked as the music began and he swept them into a dance his mother had forced him to learn when he’d been barely twelve years old. And for the first time in his entire life, he was thankful for the lesson. Because Eleanor moved like a swan on a lake. Graceful,beautiful, poised, in all the ways that made him feel like a clumsy oaf beside her.

‘That you are the most precious thing in the world to me,’ he admitted. ‘That my life doesn’t make sense when you are not here. That I ache to see you every moment of every day that I do not. That I want to know what you think, how you think, why you think, so that maybe, just maybe, I might understand you just a little more. Because that has become my only worthy endeavour,’ he said.

As they moved around the room and his words fell in their wake, not once did she take her eyes from him. The small smile that had curved her lips grew, millimetre by millimetre, until it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Titters from the crowd began to intrude and he didn’t want that. He wanted her all to himself, and he thought that maybe this time she was ready to come with him. Not because she was fleeing, or hiding, or drowning. But because she wanted to.

He drew to a halt, not caring or needing to wait any longer.

‘Come with me?’ he asked.

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