Page 25 of Lover
A surge of ardent love united with my arousal, the combination so intoxicating I felt I was in a dream.
We kissed as the clock struck one.
I splashed cool water on my face, annoyed that I’d allowed myself to indulge in that particular recollection. Though last night had proven to me beyond a doubt that Millie was drawn to me physically, I wanted the whole of her and was reluctant to risk the disaster that could befall if I surrendered to my lower instincts.
Thirty minutes until nine, when the party was due to start, I welcomed the small group of guests as they all arrived at once, having driven together, all save for Jack, who still had not phoned. I ushered everyone inside, somewhat uneasily, as though we were setting the stage for a damned Christie novel. Tentative optimism replaced my unease when I laid eyes upon the enchantment of the hall. It mirrored near perfectly the decorations present on the evening I’d proposed to Millie.
“Lottie Terrance, you absolute angel,” I said, putting an affectionate arm around her shoulders and placing a chaste kiss at her temple, careful to avoid the beautiful ornaments she’d delicately laid there. She smiled and demurred, talking nonsense about not fussing over small things. Feeling almost cheerful, I winked at Burt over her head, and he raised his eyes skyward, quietly bemoaning his wife’s inability to take a compliment.
“How are you feeling, Callum?” Florence asked as I guided them into the dining room to start enjoying themselves. It was more enlivening than I’d expected to see these faces back in Willowfield.
“I dare to say I’m hopeful,” I replied with a smile.
“We all are,” Hannigan said, already going to retrieve a glass of champagne. “Millie will be down soon?”
“I assume.” For the first time, I considered she may not come down at all after how the night before had ended. Worried, I excused myself to find Ms. Dillard, who’d taken the night off and was likely in her room reading or playing an endless game of solitaire. I’d near begged her to attend the dinner, but she’dfirmly declined, stating she didn’t have the stomach to pretend for such an extended period, and besides, she was nauseous at the idea of having to rub elbows with Dr. Hannigan for so long. As I often did when she made such pronouncements, I laughed. Ms. Dillard and the doctor had an unspoken and long-standing agreement to pretend to loathe each other, for what purpose no one knew, though it was obvious to everyone their distaste was a farce.
“Don’t laugh at me, Callum Hughes, I’ll box your ears, grown man or not,” she’d said. I was wary to interrupt her now, but had little choice.
As I was leaving the main hall, I glimpsed someone emerging from the servants’ corridor. Millie, her attention so captivated by the decorations that she hadn’t seen me. I was dumbstruck by the sight of her. She sparkled in the dim light like a jewel, demanding all of my attention. She’d cut her hair, the ends reaching not a full inch past her chin, smoothed and styled so the sharp edges swooped up against her elegantly rouged cheeks. A Les Modes illustration come to life. My bold girl. I stood, quiet, admiring her with the fascination of a man being introduced to the exquisite thing that would destroy him.
She was hesitant to enter the dining room, merely staring toward the door. Not wanting to give her an opportunity to retreat, I approached. I hadn’t meant to sneak up, but her attention was so rapt, she didn’t hear my footsteps, and when she stepped backwards, choosing to flee, she collided with me.
I placed a hand upon her waist to steady her. A mistake. Small sparks of yearning ignited, primed to burn by the activities of the previous night. She turned to face me, and my resolve to take things slow significantly diminished.
“You are devastating in that dress, Miss Foxboro,” I murmured, resisting the urge to run my fingers along the new fringe of her hair. “And your new hairstyle suits you.”
“Thank you,” she replied, moving a respectable distance from me, her chin tilted up. She was undeniably angry for the way I’d left her unsatisfied.
“I see you managed to pass the rest of the night in one piece,” I said.
“Well, I didn’t find myself lying with a broken neck outside my window or wandering to your bedroom in the dark.”
“The first image is ghastly,” I agreed, enjoying a closer look at the makeup she’d applied to highlight her striking features. The poppy red swiped across her lips was an invitation for my diabolical mind to run amok.
“And the second?” she asked, meeting me on the battlefield.
“My manners prohibit me from replying,” I said, cautioning her with my tone.
“You have manners? A true surprise.”
Cheeky little… With her head held high, she dismissed me by taking a step toward the party, but I followed her forward, again placing a hand upon her waist, this time with more intention. I dipped my head, mouth near her ear.
“Don’t attempt to start a war with me,” I advised, anticipating she would ignore my instruction. “You won’t win.”
She turned her face toward mine, a bare shiver of space between us, holding within it a cosmos of power.
“I think you’ll find you’ve underestimated me,” she replied, nearly against my lips. Breaking away, she entered the dining room with a brilliant, false smile to cover her nerves.
I chuckled, looking forward to learning more about this new side of my wife.
CHAPTER 15
THE INTRODUCTIONS BEGAN well enough, though Florence did nearly start to cry. Everyone watched Millie closely for signs of recognition, but none came, and I tried to busy myself, looking less interested in the goings-on than I was.
Dr. Hannigan was making exclamations over Millie’s new hairstyle when a voice I’d prayed my ears would never suffer again permeated the room.
“I hear women change their hair when they’re mad at a lover.”
