Page 10 of A Midnight Kiss on Ever After Street
‘Yeah. Wouldn’t want anyone to come looking for us.’
‘Exactly.’ He sounds as reluctant as I feel, and it sends another fizzle down my spine that maybe he doesn’t want this to end yet either.
Still, we stare alternately at each other and the damask rug covering the floor, as though each of us is willing the other to say something, suggest something,anythingto make this not be over yet.
‘Ladies first.’
‘Yes. Er. Right.’ I take baby steps towards the door. Comeon, Sadie. Saysomething. Ask him something that will require a long answer, and maybe by that time you’ll have plucked up the courage to ask him to dance.
I’ve turned into my uneasy, bumbling self again, something that’s been missing since he walked in, and has only made a reappearance at the thought of saying goodbye.
I’ve reached the door and he’s not far behind me. I glance back at him. His hand comes up, and for a second, I think he’s going to reach for me, but he holds the door open instead, and I scold myself for the sting of disappointment as I step out onto the small landing area.
I glance back again and meet his eyes. There’s nowhere else to go from here. We’ll both have to go down the stairs, and by the time we’ve reached the bottom, I’ll have plucked up the courage to—
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ The words burst forth as though he’s been building up to them, a garbled mess spilling out of his mouth.
‘Yes!’ I choke back a laugh of relief, and his shoulders sag and the smile that crosses his face is as relieved as mine.
It makes my heart sing. He must want this night to not-end yet too. ‘The way to any British girl’s heart. You know where we can get a cup of tea around here?’
‘The kitchen?’ He sounds confused, as though he thinks I might not know where cups of tea generally originate.
‘I think the kitchen’s been taken over by caterers. Have you seen how many waiting staff are in and out down there?’
‘Not the staff kitchen, the private kitchen.’
Surprise, again. He knows where the private kitchen is? He has access to the private kitchen? ‘Are we allowed?’
‘Anything’s allowed if we don’t get caught.’ He sounds like he’d be waggling his eyebrows if he didn’t have the mask on.
Once again, he doesn’t know how fitting that wording is for tonight.
He gestures towards the stairs. ‘Lead the way.’
‘I don’t know the way.’
‘Oh, yes, right. Sorry. May I?’ He squeezes past me in the doorway. Our bodies brush together and it sends heat racing through me. The organza of my dress tries to cling to the wool-and-silk blend of his designer suit and I’m glad the mask hides my burning cheeks.
When he’s on the small landing area, he turns back and holds his hand out to me – an open invitation.
I can’t remember the last time a man offered me his hand, but it makes me feel like a lady dating the most dashing gentleman, and I slip my fingers over his. His long digits close around them, and he stares at our joined hands for a moment, and his lower lip distorts as he bites the inside of it.
His hand is warm, his skin soft, and I’ve never held a hand that was a more perfect fit before, and the tingle that goes down my spine is more like a wave this time, followed by a shiver of goosebumps running up my arm.
His fingers involuntarily twitch, inadvertently squeezing mine. ‘This way.’
As I follow him down the stairs, I feel like a schoolgirl cutting class – giggly, excited, doing something naughty and forbidden, and when he looks over his shoulder with a smile, I know without a shadow of a doubt that it’s worth any bollocking I might get from the teachers.
4
We’re taking the scenic route. He dropped my hand instantly at the bottom of the stairs, and now we’re walking through elaborately decorated hallways with strapwork ceilings, stained-glass windows hung with red velvet curtains, polished wood panelling and chequerboard marble flooring, and stone statues set back in custom-made alcoves in the walls. Everything is the height of old-fashioned luxury, and even though the place has obviously had a thorough cleaning this week, it feels hollow and silent. We’re on the third floor now, even the noise from downstairs is dim from this far away, and you can hear the castle itself. Creaking, clanging, as though it’s whispering as we meander past. I’m almost positive that somewhere just out of sight, there’s sentient homeware gossiping among themselves.
The private kitchen is at the bottom of another tower, and as soon as we step into it, I’m drawn to the window. ‘Oh wow, that view.’
He turns the light out so I can see without reflections. It faces the opposite direction to Ever After Street, and we’re so high up that you can see for miles. Even though it’s dark outside, we’ve got a panoramic view right across Herefordshire and the neighbouring Gloucestershire. Over the trees in the woods below to the clearing where the river runs behind the castle, and beyond that, rolling green hills and trees, trees, trees for miles, bursting into leaf as they wake up for spring.
I glance at him, but he’s just waiting patiently in the doorway, and I love that feeling of being with someone who’s got all the time in the world for me. Most of my encounters with people are rushed. Clients are usually busy with a million other things to do in preparations for weddings or other important events. Scarlett always has to rush off to another hairdressing client. Ebony’s impatience edges into every conversation she has with me, but this nameless man has just taken me on a long walk around the castle, and everything feels the total opposite of the rush that my life usually is.
