Page 10 of In Pursuit of a Christmas Bride
His heart, that cold, icy organ rumored to be in his chest, beat, blooming into something unrecognizable with each proceeding drum. As if, after all this time, he had been sleepwalking.
“I don’t understand you or this,” he whispered. He shuttered his eyes toward her, melting into her touch. “Can you make this make sense?”
“Life may be this big, sweeping thing, but love is discovered in between the million tiny moments when you learn to live your life. I have lived my life fully, much to the disappointment of many. And I assure you that I have never found someone quite as intriguing as I have found you.”
“You mean knocked unconscious at the base of a sycamore tree?”
She paused, words almost visibly tripping up on her full lips. “Wit can only push you so far in this life. You learn by feeling.” She pressed her hand against his chest. “Here. I promise, if you feel something, then you are living, and nothing is wrong. Madness lies in nothing. I might not enjoy everything I feel, but I have found the courage to embrace the pleasant and unpleasant. That is something to be proud of. That is something so many in this world never reach. Don’t be another. You are far too special to walk around this world stuck in your head, too afraid to open yourself up to what awaits.”
Henry always had a retort. It was his job, after all. But that speech was beautiful.
She was… beautiful.
“I need to know your name,” he whispered instead. “Please.”
She shook her head. For a moment, he thought she would push him away, but instead, she curled her fingers into the lapelsof his waistcoat and tethered herself to him. Rooting him there in this existence he never thought possible.
He could not be in love because he hadn’t known this woman for long. Hell, he hadn’t known her one whole night.
“I can see you trying to make sense out of something that doesn’t make sense. Stop.”
He swallowed, his palms suddenly sweating. She was mere inches away, and he couldn’t kiss her.
Henry so desperately wished to kiss this stranger.
“What will you do tomorrow?” he asked instead.
She shrugged. “The same as every other day, except now I will have met you. And I don’t know if I’ll be sorry or glad of it.”
“Glad of it, I’d like to think.”
“Wouldn’t that be lovely?” She closed her eyes, and her long eyelashes fluttered against the holes in her mask.
“You’re lovely.” Henry cleared his throat, instantly wishing he had kept that thought to himself. He hadn’t had a drink earlier, and still, he was walking around uttering the most inefficacious things to a stranger who nearly bashed his head in.
He drew in a steadying breath, pulling his focus to his feet on the earth, the cool September evening breeze that brushed across his face, the silk of her gown in his palms.
And that’s where the center of his world tipped. Henry Davies, barrister extraordinaire and virgin, had a woman wrapped in his arms, and he was more focused on his words than his actions. Which likely accounted for why he was a virgin.
“What if we snuck away?” she whispered. “I am so ready to leave them all behind. Would you take your chance on me and try finding our way out of here?”
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere.” She laughed. “I realize how that sounds. It sounds like I hit my head and not you. No, no. Then maybe I should return to the party. I won’t keep you any longer.”
“What if I wish to stay? What will you think of me?”
“I will think you made an excellent choice.”
He grinned then. Something split open in his chest. Maybe it was his heart shaking off years of cold and ice to accommodate this beguiling woman.
He didn’t have the slightest idea of kissing. And Henry was sure he was about to do it all wrong, but he also knew he had to kiss this woman.
Especially as she stepped up on her toes and dragged him closer by his jacket lapels. “Kiss me first, then take me away. For tonight, I wish to only be with you.”
Henry leaned down and pressed his mouth firmly to hers. But that didn’t feel right. So, he softened the pressure, tasting the champagne on her lips, light and tasting like pears and honey. He tilted his head, adjusting his approach, groaning as she returned his kiss in equal measure.
Kissing, it turns out, was not the end of the world. Nor was it a terrible pastime.
