Page 35 of Margins of Love
“Find out what her intentions are. Maybe she was truly just reading? She strikes me as the bookish type. A bit boring for my taste.”
That earned Arnold a “humpf,” which he returned with a tilt of his head and an exploring stare. Fave evaded his scrutiny by turning to the doors.
Lizzie entered the room, her arm intertwined with Rachel’s. Fave’s heart skipped a beat, and then seemed to have lost its rhythm altogether when Lizzie and Rachel approached him.
Arnold followed his gaze and put his hand on his besotted cousin’s shoulder. “That bad, hm?”
Fave tried to give him the death stare, but only for a fraction of a second because he did not want to miss a moment of marveling at the beauty that was walking toward him. She graced her silk gown, not vice versa. He had never seen a woman sparkle without jewels the way Rachel did. Diamonds would be drowned out by the teal sapphire hues in her vivacious eyes.
What was he going to do with this gorgeous vision of a… how could he describe her other than an angel? But she was not angelic, she was stronger, more earthy, quirky, bookish, and unconventionally beautiful.
“Good evening.” Lizzie let go of Rachel and nodded to Arnold. “It seems you are stuck with me again.” She humbly smiled at her beloved cousin.
His smile met hers with all the warmth of a big brother. “Not at all. I could not dream of a more beautiful dance partner.” He assumed his gallantry and reached for Lizzie’s hand.
Fave stood there like an adolescent yearling. Rachel lowered her gaze politely and blushed. Fave noticed that she was flattening the folds of her dress. A futile endeavor considering the intentional ruffles that adorned her body. There was little skin uncovered, and her dress would have been considered chaste, but the lace overlay over her shoulders attracted his vision with magnetic force. A few of her dark curls hung limply over the lace, and Fave imagined their softness in his hands. His hands grew wet with cold sweat, and he looked to see if Rachel was wearing gloves. She was.
Fave forced himself to bow to Rachel. He had not regained his voice.
She replied in kind with a deep curtsy, the ton-approved way to accept a dance. As if rehearsed, he flattened his hand in the air and she lay her gloved fingers atop.
The music had started, a Walz. Fave clasped his hand around Rachel’s waist.
She looked at him now, close enough to force him to look back at her. “I hope you are not disappointed to be stuck with me tonight.” She faked modesty, but her happiness to be in his arms awoke Fave from his stupor.
“Aphrodite would have slain you for shaming her with your beauty this evening.”Stupid. Stupid.He turned beet red at the realization of his clumsy compliment.
But Rachel beamed. Of course, she would. She knew mythology as well as he did. Maybe better. She was perfect in Fave’s eyes. And in his arms.
They danced with smiles pasted to their faces, reveling in the closeness of their bodies as the music carried them around the room. They continued in full swing a second longer than the music played and at once, all eyes were on them.
“May I escort you to the buffet?” Fave asked, trying to interrupt the awkwardness of the moment.
“I would prefer a stroll in the fresh air,” Rachel said.
And so, he led her to the gardens. Or so it seemed.
For as soon as they were out of sight, he took her hand and hushed, “Come with me.”
* * *
Rachel recognizedthe long corridor to the orangerie. Even from the carriage, on the day of her arrival, she had admired its arched windows stretching along the ground level of the building.
“Stop!” Rachel said breathlessly as Fave hurried ahead of her. “Please!”
Fave froze.
She bent down to take off her shoes, so she could follow him faster, without the incessant clucking of her heels. His tall legs were faster than hers and she had trouble keeping up with him, her feet had to scuttle along under her petticoat.
“Allow me.” He raised her chin with a finger and went down on one knee to remove her shoes.
Rachel remembered Stella’s words, but she could not see the hellion in Fave. He moved elegantly but without routine. It had been all she ever dreamed of. She had swayed in his arms as if dancing on a cloud. And now, she followed his every motion with glee.
His hands trailed slowly to her ankles. With hesitation—or was it reverence—he lifted the layers of her evening gown, just enough to see her feet. Instantly, Rachel’s skin was on fire. She caught him looking up at her. Her heart thumped in her throat. She lifted her dress a bit higher and his hand trailed upward to her calf. Where his hands touched her, she shivered. His eyes never left hers. She had never seen eyes more intense.
It was virtually black in the… where were they? She looked around.
“This is the orangerie.” Fave’s lopsided smirk gave away his seductive intentions. “I used to hide here to read all the time when I was a child.”
