Page 54 of An Unwitting Alliance
His hands moved to her neck, and she encircled his waist with her arms. But suddenly Tom pulled back, his breathing ragged. “I-I think he is gone.”
“Is he?” She could hardly think straight. She wanted to smile. To laugh. To kiss Tom again. It was far better than any silly truce or running from a future together. At present, such ideas seemed utterlyfutile. That is, assuming he felt the same. He did, didn’t he? She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.
When he said nothing and shuffled backward, away from her, fear of rejection seized her. She started breathing too hard, too fast. She gasped for air and waved her hand rapidly in front of her flaming-hot cheeks.
“Are—are you well?” Concern, and likely guilt, tightened his features.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She had never thought kissing someone would render strong enough feelings to send her into such a state. How could she explain that he and his kiss were responsible? How mortifying!
Tom put his hand on her arm and rubbed it softly. His calming touch and expression were exactly what she needed. Just like before, her panic began to subside. She forced long, deep breaths.In. Out.
Her head began to clear, all thanks to Tom’s tender touch, and she finally managed a verbal response. “Yes, thank you. I was caught off guard is all.”
Tom stepped away from her, and her hand dropped awkwardly to her side. “So was I. Forgive me.” His chuckle was sheepish, but his eyes were remorseful, reminding her of when she’d discovered his trickery at the ball. Why was he looking at her that way? “I should never have taken such liberties. Next time we will make a proper plan, as you suggested.”
In this case, liberties had been exactly what she had wanted him to take. She guessed he would not be holding her hand on the way back to the carriage. But instead of being disappointed, she focused on the honor behind his current behavior. She trusted that he had done what he’d thought best. And she absolutely did not regret a moment of it.
When they stepped out into the alley, there was no sign of Longbottom. But what she did see almost made Cassandra change her mind about her and Tom’s kiss—for there was Patricia, Miss Grover, and a maid, strolling with two gentlemen. The first gentleman was Mr. Ferris, one of Patricia’s determined suitors. But the second unnerved her the most.
What was Mr. Gibbons doing in Airewell?
Chapter 20
“Cassandra Vail!” Patricia gasped.Thewhole party moved in the direction of her and Tom.
They would know right away how guilty she was. There was no way Cassandra could explain what she had been doing with a man in an alleyway.
Alone and completely unchaperoned.
With lips hot and swollen.
Every lesson on propriety had schooled her against this very behavior, and there was no claiming innocence with the proof so blatant. Cassandra clasped her hands tightly in front of her and whispered to Tom, “If I have an apoplexy, don’t resuscitate me. I’m not sure I can face anyone after this gets out.”
“Trust me once more.” He straightened. “I am in need of redeeming myself anyway.”
What exactly did he mean by that? It had better not be that he regretted their kiss. If she was going to have her reputation destroyed, she at least wanted their time together to mean something to him.
The others gathered in a semicircle around them. Patricia went straight to Tom’s side, as only a woman capable of smelling out a title and fortune could. Mr. Gibbons came up alongside her. Cassandra looked past his long nose to his narrow eyes to see if he was as surprised as she was to meet here. His expression changed from curious to pleased to... hopeful. Could their situation get any worse? She tore her eyes from him to Patricia’s accusatory glare.
“Cassandra, I cannot tell you how surprised I was to see you come out of thathiddenalley, and with a stranger!”
The blood seemed to seep from Cassandra’s veins, weakening her and making her vulnerable to whatever Patricia planned to do to her.
Tom cleared his throat. “I was sure Miss Vail’s cat darted in there. I say, you two haven’t seen the creature, have you?” He shook his head, as if Patricia had said nothing at all about their indiscretion. “It jumped right out of her arms and bolted.” He stretched on his toes and searched over their heads for the imaginary cat. “It could not have gone far.” When he relaxed back on his feet, he chuckled sheepishly. “Forgive me. We have not even been introduced. I am a devotee to any suffering animal, and I am afraid my manners escaped me.”
“I would be happy to make the introductions,” Cassandra said, running with Tom’s charade. “This is Miss Pollard and Miss Grover, Mr. Ferris and Mr.—”
Patricia interrupted. “Oh, this is Mr. Gibbons. He is visiting his cousin Mr. Ferris and just arrived this very morning.” She beamed as if she were introducing the King.
Cassandra did not meet Mr. Gibbons’s eyes again—she did not dare—and pointed to Tom, purposefully omitting the honorific before his name in a desperate move to protect him from Patricia. “And this is Mr. Harwood, who is kindly assisting me in my search for—”
“Tiger,” Tom said for her. “Not a real tiger, mind you.”
“He must be orange, then,” Mr. Ferris supplied.
“Blue, actually.” Tom shook his head as if Mr. Ferris were mad, and in return the man raised his brows as if the opposite were true. “It’s such a tragedy when one loses a pet. I wonder at how Miss Vail is holding herself together. I would be beside myself. Wouldn’t you?” He turned to Patricia.
Patricia batted her lashes, a habit she often employed when in the company of a handsome man. “I know I would be.”
