Page 41 of The Duke's Bride in Disguise
Ava looked up to see the duke, his face both amused and concerned, standing on the periphery of the audience.
"Alouette," Ava continued, moving up a note on her make-shift instrument.
"Je te plumerai," Kilbride sang back, this time with a note of enjoyment in his deep voice.
Ava concentrated on the glasses before her, as she attempted to master the flurry of notes for the chorus.
"Je te plumerai la t?te," she sang, and—to her delight—the whole room began to sing in unison.
"Je te plumerai la t?te,"
"Et la t?te,"
"Alouett,"
"Oh!"
The whole room appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, so Ava launched into a second verse, which ended in raucous laughter from the men, and flushed giggles from the ladies.
"Oh, that was simply wonderful," Laura cried, rushing forward to embrace her, "I haven't had that much fun in years."
"It wasn't exactly Mozart," Ava replied with a humble smile.
"It was better!" Lord Fairfax called from his seat, "And to think of all the money I wasted on piano masters over the years..."
The guests were in high spirits after their impromptu sing-a-long and soon the room was filled with the sound of chatter and laughter, rather than music. Sensing an opportunity to slip away and compose herself—for her nerves were still in tatters—Ava took her tray of glasses and slipped from the room.
The layout of Kilbride House was quite similar to the house in Grosvenor Square. Ava hurried down a dark corridor, then down a flight of steps, which led to the kitchens.
"Thank you," she said to a startled scullery-maid, who ran over to take the tray the moment she spotted that Ava had entered the servants' domain. "How do I get out to the gardens? I'm feeling rather flushed."
The scullery maid directed Ava back up the stairs, to where—in the library—a set of French doors led to a secluded terrace. The gardens of Kilbride House were still, silent and cast in shadows. The moon above was but a sliver, and Ava watched it for a moment, wondering if her sister was perhaps looking at the same moon.
"I wish I could paint," a voice called from behind her, "For I've never seen a more beautiful scene."
"The sky is lovely," Ava replied mildly, turning to face the duke who stood at the French windows watching her. How she had managed such a blasé reply, she did not know, for her heart was beating a tattoo so loud, that she was certain it could be heard in Cornwall. Kilbride's face was half hidden by dark shadows and he looked, to Ava's eye, rather dangerous.
He is dangerous, she told herself sternly, as she felt her body go weak with desire. And what was even more dangerous, was being alone with him in a secluded garden.
"I was not speaking of the sky," Kilbride replied, his sensuous mouth curling up into a smile, "I was speaking of you. You're bewitching in the moonlight, did you know?"
"What could be more flattering to a woman than near darkness," Ava quipped, in a feeble attempt to break the simmering tension between them.
"You are too modest," Kilbride said, as he stepped toward her.
Run, a voice in Ava's head shouted, run away as fast as you can. She could not, even if she had wanted to, she could not, for she was paralysed with the most delicious type of fear, as she watched Kilbride stalk toward her. This must be what a mouse feels like when it is cornered by a cat, she thought with a giddy thrill, as Kilbride closed the space between them in three long strides.
"Far too modest," he repeated, as he looked down at her, "I have never known a woman as beautiful as you."
The retort on Ava's lips died away in an instant, for Kilbride reached out with one hand and drew her toward him, before his mouth crashed down upon hers and claimed her very first kiss.
