Page 1 of Adoringly, Edward
SHE SHOULDN’T BE HERE.
In fact, this was the last place someone with hergloriousbloodline, as her mother liked to call it, should find themselves considering the flowing drinks, the scandalous company, and the freedom of self expression.
But for one night, she wasn’t Vivienne Winfield, daughter of the Edilann warlord, niece of the king himself, and cousin to the younger Prince Sterling. She was simply Vivi. And all she wanted was to have a good time with nothing held back.
Vivienne’s stomach clenched with excitement as she stepped down from her carriage and smoothed the soft fabric of her black ball gown accentuated with red rosettes. The sleeves draped off her shoulders, and the bodice dipped low. It matched the black velvet half-mask resting over her eyes covered with red, floral lace.
She straightened her elbow-length black gloves and fixed her stare on the man allowing people into the party at the beautiful, mysterious estate. The large, black-spired structure had been abandoned for years. Or, at least, no one knew who actually owned the estate. Only that when word got out about the elusive masquerade, the event that happened once a year at different locations, she knew she had to attend.
She side-stepped on the path to avoid a carriage pulling off to the side of the road and eyed the invitations in the back pocket of a man’s trousers several paces ahead of her. Invitations had been handed out personally by a man shrouded in a dark cloak, or so said a few testimonies of those who had claimed to see the mysterious personage.
To her grievance, she had not received an invitation herself.
In a quick movement, she bent her foot to the side and managed to snap the heel off her shoe, which caused her to “stumble” forward upon losing her balance. Her shriek alerted the man ahead of her, who just barely managed to catch her before she crashed into the ground.
In his momentary distraction, she slipped one of the invitations out of his back pocket and stuffed it down the sleeve of her glove.
“Forgive me!” she gasped, clutching onto the man’s thin arms like a damsel in distress. “I don’t know what I would have done should you not have caught me.”
The man righted her and searched the ground, likely for the other half of her shoe. “Tis no trouble, milady. It’s only a shame your shoe seems to have wandered off.”
She patted his chest reassuringly and took him up on his offer for her to cut in line in front of him. She approached the man allowing people through the door with a rickety step when half her shoe was gone. When she presented the invitation, he nodded his head for her to enter.
Vivienne stepped into the dark ballroom with candles flickering from sconces on the walls and an enormous chandelier sparkling overhead. She inhaled a long, excited breath at the intensity of the music played by a small orchestra. Each musician dressed in black and wore masks of their own. She admired the dark, dancing gowns of women twirling around their well-dressed partners, taking in the carefree laughter, hidden identities, and absolute abandon.
“I saw that,” someone said behind her, startling her into spinning around.
A man wearing a tailored black dress suit leaned casually against a gray stone pillar. A simple black mask covered the top half of his face. Black hair swept over his mask, longer in the front than in the back. And in his hand…
He twirled the missing piece of her shoe between his fingers, watching her with an air of nonchalance. Almost boredom. But she didn’t miss the spark of excitement in his eyes that lived in her own.
Instead of defending herself and denying his silent accusation, she slipped her shoes off, tossed them to the side, and approached him with only stockings covering her bare feet. His intense gaze held hers throughout the entire duration of her short journey toward him. Another knot tied her stomach into a beautiful bow. The man was handsome. And she most certainly enjoyed the way he looked at her as if she were the only woman in the entire room.
She reached for her broken heel. Their fingers brushed. And it was as if a spark jolted from her fingertips, down her arm, and into her frenzied heart.
“I deserved an invitation,” she said, her fingers still resting against his over the heel.
“Did you?” He leaned closer until the breath from his lips brushed against her cheek. “Because if so, you would havereceived one.” But then he leaned back, and her breath caught at the way his mouth curved up in a grin. “However, I have no doubt the issuer of invitations would have been impressed with the way you acquired one, nonetheless.”
“I had an extra!” the man from earlier cried out, his voice shoving its way through the door. “I swear! It was here in my pocket mere minutes ago.”
“I sacrificed a good pair of shoes for it,” she replied quietly, trying to hide her devious smile but not quite managing it, especially when an amused smirk lifted on his own lips.
Finally, he relinquished her broken heel, and she tucked it safely inside the hidden pocket of her dress, waiting to find out if he would rat her out to whomever their host might be.
He didn’t.
Rather, he continued leaning a shoulder against the pillar, his attention still fixed on her. “Would you like to dance?”
Vivienne tapped a playful finger against her bottom lip. “I would love to. But with whom? No one has offered a poor girl in distress his hand for the dance floor.”
Laughter escaped his mouth, and the pleasant sound alone sent a wave of flutters through her chest. She enjoyed the way his mouth curved into a smile, the way his teeth gleamed in the dim light, the way his body language exuded confidence with even the smallest movements.
“You are hardly a girl in distress. You can handle yourself just fine.” He took her hand and pulled her closer until she bumped into his chest. “Dance with me.”
She offered a playful, coy smile as she took his other hand and walked backward toward the dance floor, pulling him with her just as the musicians struck up another song. Only then did she realize she had not glanced away from him once since their chance meeting. She could not bring herself to look away when she found herself so taken with him.
The man took the lead, stepping into a dance as if he’d done it thousands of times.
