Page 57 of Disenchanted
“You did ask.”
“And I should have known better.”
“What do you think of the coach?” Mal asked.
“It’s a bit overwhelming.”
When Mal appeared crestfallen, I hastened to add, “I worry how much you must have spent acquiring such a regal equipage.”
“I didn’t buy it, Ella. The coach and horses are hired for the evening, and I was able to strike up a bargain because the carriage is rather old-fashioned. You know the rage these days is all for those pumpkin vehicles. Although…” Mal’s lips quirked mischievously. “I could have gotten a great deal on a slightly used cucumber. But I imagined your reaction if I had turned up with that and I have far too much regard for my own skin.”
“Occasionally you do display some small sign of wisdom, Mr. Hawkridge,” I said with a wry smile. “Thank you. The coach is wonderful. Netta and Amy will be in ecstasies when they see it. They truly are going to believe you are their fairy godfather.”
“The fairy godfather needs to hasten things along a bit.” He gathered up two of the bandboxes and the linen garment carrier. “Grab that last small box and follow me.”
“Follow you where?” I demanded as Mal strode toward the stairs.
He paused on the first riser to glance back at me. “Up to your room. Thanks to Delphine, we are running late. I have someimportant instructions for you, and we can save time if I explain those while you are getting dressed.”
I locked my arms across my bosom. “I think not, sir!”
Mal heaved an impatient sigh. “What is the problem, Ella? I have often been in your bedchamber.”
“When we were children! My poor stepmother is already having spasms, fearing you were not going to show up with my gown. If she catches you in my room while I am dressing, Imelda will dissolve into complete hysterics.”
“Then we had better be really quiet,” Mal said in a stage whisper. He headed the rest of the way up the stairs before I could stop him.
I swore, but I had no choice but to grab the last box and follow him. By the time I arrived on the landing, Mal had disappeared inside my bedchamber. I paused to listen and was relieved to hear Imelda’s voice coming from the direction of Amy’s room. I darted after Mal, closing the door behind me and feeling strangely nervous as I locked the bolt.
Perhaps I was being foolish. Mal had often been in my room before. But there was little trace of the mischievous boy who had climbed through my bedchamber window, hauling his sack of toy soldiers and cannons to lay siege to my dollhouse. Watching him pile the boxes and garment bag on the bed, I was far too aware of Mal as a man and a seductive one at that.
His black garb and bronzed skin made a marked contrast to the feminine unicorn-embroidered silk of my bed curtains. As he bent down to undo the ties on the garment bag, his shirt strained against the musculature of his back. I had never fully realized how much his movements possessed a sensual catlike grace. I knew many other women had always found him attractive. He was lean, he was dangerous, and his wicked eyes seemed to hint of forbidden pleasures.
Closeted with him in the intimacy of my bedchamber, I was dismayed by how flushed and discomfited I was. How I longed to turn back time to the days when my feelings toward Mal had been far less complicated, when I had been able to see him only as a brother and friend.
Mal undid the last tie on the garment bag. Casting a look at me over his shoulder, he grinned. “Are you ready for this?”
“No.” I sighed.
He laughed. As he removed the gown from the linen bag, I braced myself, hardly knowing what to expect of a gown designed by a rogue like Mal and a witch who detested me.
Mal turned and held up the gown for my inspection. For a moment, I think I stopped breathing. It was truly the most beautiful dress I had ever seen although the style was simple enough. The bodice was cut on modest lines, tapering to a V at the waistline, the sleeves short, fashioned into two puffed tiers. The skirt was full, attached to the bodice with a gathering of tiny pleats.
What made the gown so extraordinary was the fabric, dyed a golden hue. Or so I thought until I drew close enough to caress the cool silk. The fabric shimmered and changed with my slightest touch, shifting with the light, one minute shining gold, then iridescent silver, then glistening ivory.
“Oh, Mal! What is this material?”
“It’s called river silk, rather rare in these parts. It’s woven from threads obtained from the cocoons of prism butterflies only found on the Isle of Altoria. I was quite fortunate to buy so many yards of it from one of the fen smugglers. Let’s see how it looks on you.”
I took the gown from him. “All right, but you have to turn around.”
Mal arched one brow. “Seriously?”
“Yes!” I pointed toward the corner opposite my bed. “Go! And keep your face to the wall until I say you can look.”
Mal rolled his eyes, but he complied. Folding his arms, he stood with his back to me. I kept a wary eye on him as I undid the buttons on my dressing gown. I would have completely trusted Horatio not to peek, but the commander was far too honorable to have barged into my bedchamber in the first place.
I shrugged out of my dressing gown, stripping down to my stays, drawers, and stockings. I carefully pulled my chemise over my head, taking care not to disarrange my hair. Then I fastened a cage hoop skirt about my waist. The hoop was modest compared to the broad kind women wore in my mother’s day. I was glad that the fashion now was for dresses cut upon straight, simpler lines. But for all formal occasions at court such as the ball, hoops were still required.
